In March, 1947, Nancy Pearce wrote to Ursula Trow, Editor of the Teen Temptest" column of American Weekly the following..."I am a so called bobby-soxer of 15 years, and I have a very old fashioned mother. I came home rather late from a dance the other night. She made me lie across her lap and then she spanked me very hard with a hairbrush". The spit in her mouth had gone, her knees went weak as she saw Mummy swell before her taking a deep breath. Her eyebrow lifted and vanished beneath her fringe. She sat down, and opened the envelope.

Tom stayed for tea. I sat uncomfortably. Mum caught my eye on and off and smiled knowingly. Dad came home and asked me how my day had been. I told him it had been the best birthday ever – which was true. We finally got home, I carried the bags inside then came out to say good bye to my sister in law and I apologized for speaking rudely. After that my wife told me to go inside and wait for her. I was near the front door as my wife was saying goodbye to her sister then said I'm going to go get him in line." Letter number 2 was written June 5, 1928 to the New York Daily Mirror by a twenty year old office girl.

His Dad Was 83

The sobbing didn’t as the heat sank in, and pain exploded, she just wailed and wailed.”Now up you get… and straight to bed young lady, AND stay there… Once you have stopped crying I don’t want to hear another peep out of you…do you hear? Or you will be going over my knee again… Okay it’s done!” Mum took my hand to put me in position – and for the very first time, I had an extra thrill. Even though it was all in fun, Mum wasn’t smiling or laughing – she kept a straight face and mum actually put me across her knee as she might if I was a really naughty boy.

We were in the car, her sister was with us and I was spent from a long day of shopping with the two women. I wasn't doing a good job of hiding my attitude and got a couple of generic warnings or scolding from my wife. When I got mouthy and then rude my wife went off! Mum and I remain very close – and I believe those fun spankings have a lot to do with the strength of our relationship. In fact, as I was typing this story, she called me – it’s almost like she knew what I was up to! Clare smiled. "A silly professional mistake. He was kind and corrected my error. I cooked him dinner as thanks. My stir-fry is legendary, it seems." To the Editor: I am a young girl just turned seventeen years, an orphan, and I have live with my aunt who has taken care of me since I was seven years old. She is just as good as can be, and loves me dearly, I know, but is awful strict, and spanks me very often when I don't do just as she says, and though I try real hard to please her, I get spanked two or three times some days, except Sundays. She just catches me anywhere and pulls me over her knee and slaps me good with anything that comes handy. Now I tell her it is not right to spank such a big girl, but she says I will never be too big for her to spank when I don't do as she says. Won't some of your readers write a letter with real good reasons why she ought to stop spanking me, so that when I see it, I can show it to her, so she will stop?--A GOOD GIRL You were magnificent tonight," he said. "But I must paddle you. You filled my mental space with unnecessary angst while I prepared for this dinner."Without a word, she bent low over their bed. Placing her forearms on their white comforter, her weight of responsibility lifted from her shoulders. Her thin chiffon dress pulled tight over her bum, only a g-string beneath. Their discipline strap would hurt her. She hoped so. As I explained in my previous attempt, as long as it was a bit of fun between us, I encouraged Mum any chance I could to turn me over her knee – I loved it. I pushed the boundaries with being cheeky – Mum threatened accordingly. It was fun – in fact, between the ages of 12 and 15 were my happiest childhood years. The period coincided with several fun spankings, and I felt this period also cemented an extra closeness in our relationship. A formidable no nonsense women. Her standing in the community was the fuel that drove her on. At Christmas she probably had to do without, to provide a lovely Christmas for her daughter. She was the woman you went to to get something done, Tombolas, Raffles, Carol Concerts to name a few. In short, she was a very much loved and respected member of the village community. His sharp leather signatures delivered fiery pain. She analyzed her interactions, struggling to discover a single polite one. His uncompromising toughness pulsed pleasure into her sex, clearing spaces in her mind for genuine remorse. Thin rectangles of penetrating heat replaced fading strokes, keeping her bottom ablaze and her conscience clear. He was beating her without debate. She deserved it. Strapping her hard, he was leaving her lowest curves - on which she would sit - untouched. The army wife who had spread gossip about the husband's commanding officer's wife and, as a result, was stripped naked and spanked by her husband and the officer's wife in front of the officer;

After Viennese shortbread accompanying rose-petal panna cotta, she drew Mrs. Davenport aside while their men chatted. Her discreet stinging bottom had lasted an hour, settling into a pleasant promise. Her mummy, was at the very least, delighted! “Ohhh you clever girl Karen, you have made your Mummy so very proud. This Saturday, we are off to town you and I, we will go to Rushet’s Cafe on the High Street, and I’ll take you to your favourite bakers and get you a lovely cream cake to have after Sunday tea! Then my dear, we will go looking at uniforms and satchels. You are going to look lovely, you deserve the best….well done!” She shoved her blue and white striped cotton panties to join her jeans, comfortable under his command. Her irrationality had made it difficult for him to trust she'd accept her discipline. His cruel dice game had taught her an effective lesson.

Legally Spanking the Wife

Almost a minute passed, but it felt longer. Karen looked at her beautiful Mummy, the rounded body looked so cosy and even at this moment strangely comforting, her Mummy bear almost. She saw her Mummy looking at her bush, her hips, she could almost read the thoughts in her head…”My my, my little girl is a girl no more.” Letter Number 1 was written on April 1, 1898 by a young woman who had recently turned seventeen to the Editor of the NY Evening Journal... Given her lengthy attitude, it was a just punishment. Ache would deepen, disciplining her for several days.