First Broken Skin Caning

While leaving a comment to a story recently I was reminded of the first time that my skin was broken during a caning, and decided to share the story.
I remember that it occurred during the summer holidays before I started the first junior school year, (now known as year 7 in the UK!). My mother and I had been to visit my aunt, my mother's older sister. She was a stickler for correct behaviour. speech, manners, etc and my mother was always in awe of her, and became very tense whenever she visited.
On the journey home my mother was very quiet but the minute we entered the house she berated me for embarrassing her in front of my aunt. This was because I had argued with her publicly over a certain issue, and my aunt had told her that she considered me to be disrespectful and disobedient.
As was the usual procedure I was instructed to go to my room, get undressed, and remain naked. I briefly heard my mother on the phone apologising to her sister and promising that I would regret my behaviour. She then came upstairs quickly and determined, carrying one of her canes, and ordered me to bend over the bed. As soon as I was in position she began thrashing me with her cane. It was obvious that my mother was extremely angry but she never lost control. The thrashing was harsher and more intense than normal, and I remember writhing on the bed in pain, but doing so meant that the strokes landed even harder.
Afterwards, my mother left the room but ordered to remain lying face down until she returned.
While she was gone however I rubbed the back of my thighs which were burning with pain, and that was when I felt blood and knew that the cane had cut me. When my mother returned I put my hands back in front of me and did not mention the blood. I then felt a coolness on the wound and realised that she was applying an antiseptic cream after which she covered it with an elastoplast. My mother then told me to remain in my room until called, and returned downstairs. The skin break was never mentioned.
I did have a few more skin breaks over the years, but the first time still sticks in my mind.


slave2u62 slave2u62
46-50, M
4 Responses Dec 6, 2012

I don't think any caning should be so severe as to cause bleeding and one way to ensure this doesn't happen is to always cane over at least one layer of clothing. My mother caned me until I was 21 but it was always over a pair of my old school gym knickers. These reduced a lot of bruising without significantly reducing the pain.

My mother only caned me until I was about 11, and it was usually over my trousers and underpants. She only did it on my bare bottom when I'd done something really bad. On these occasions I think she was careful not to do it too hard so there was no blood, although I did have bruising and it was still excruciatingly painful.

I remember that I stayed, many, many years ago, at the house of my late Aunt Alison, near Clovelly in north Devon. I was about fourteen and my aunt had two children, Becky, who was twelve and Tim, 13. My aunt was a stickler for discipline and kept a cane in a locked cupboard in the attic at the top of the house. Becky told me that they were "always getting it" and I could hear the sounds of beatings soon after I arrived for the summer weeks. Aunt Alison was a big woman, apparently strong and fit, a keen and energetic tennis player and horsewoman and it was not ever possible to contest her decisions. I fell foul of her when she found a pair of my white knickers (the school bloomers of that period were much more loose and baggy than nowadays and always had to be boiled in the copper) in the washing basket with brown stains at the crotch. She was furious, shouting: "Has no-one ever told you to wash your bottom every day?" I suppose I just stared blankly as she shouted at me and then she said:"Go at once to te attic and wait for me." Then followed a brief lecture on the disrespect and disobedience that soiling my knickers represented and I was told, (and these words have always stayed with me since that day) "Lift your dress, take down your knickers and touch your toes." She gave me six very painful strokes and I was immediately howling and hopping about. We then went to the bathroom, my bottom still smarting and I was given a lecture on the technique of soaping and cleaning away any possible residue from my most recent visit to the toilet. In the immediate aftermath I think I hated her but I was extremely careful to do nothing that might anger her. I never ever soiled my panties again and as the days went by my feelings towards her turned from fear and sullenness to something like awe and yearning. I could not believe that a member of my family could treat me with such shattering ferocity? And yet she had and I began to wonder if she might do it again. Did I perhaps want her to? Maybe I did but she did not and when I went home at the end of the summer we both shed tears. I never saw her again.

My mother was always very keen on gardening, and so we always had several bamboo canes around the house. But she selected one of them to use exclusively for smacking our bottoms with, and it was kept in a cupboard and only ever taken out for this purpose.
She gave me it with my trousers and pants down on more than one occasion, bending over my bed or arm of a chair. There was no blood, but my bottom stayed sore with deep red marks for days.

'One of her canes'. How many did she have? My parents only had one - and that was enough.

She normally kept two, but replaced them as and when