Category Archives: Uncategorized

Deborah’s Daughter

Deborah was a well respected member of the local community. She presented herself and her house well. But…

She he had a very haughty, naughty, wilful, headstrong daughter.

Charlotte.

‘Naughty Charlotte’ as she was known to everyone. “I am glad she is not mine!” Was an often heard phrase. “It needs someone like Deborah to keep a girl like that in line!” Was another.

Living close by would be a spanking enthusiast’s dream!

I can hear a commotion now! Let’s go and see what all the fuss is about…

Oh dear, she has been caught smoking, again. In the outside privy this time!

“You naughty girl! Don’t bother pulling your knickers up, it’s the hairbrush again for you, young lady! Come here!”

Charlotte was pulled by the ear to the windowsill.

Where, much to the girls (who lived each side), and the two boys (who lived behind) delight, she got spanked with the hairbrush (Mummy’s favourite implement).

“Noooo Mummy, everyone will hear owwwwwwwwww, ooooooh!”

Laughter, from the neighbours, could be heard through the screams, whacks, and yelps, but it was short lived, because it  began to rain hard.

Mummy dragged her inside. “They will still hear your squeals Charlotte, I am leaving the door open!”

Once inside, the spanking really began!

A protesting, kicking, squealing Charlotte was pulled over Mummy’s knee for a jolly good, long, hard, bare over the knee, domestic spanking.

A naughty gir learned a very, very, sharp, painful lesson!

This is what every naughty girl needs! A good old fashioned disciplinarian. A mother who is not afraid to whack her naughty bottom long and hard, whenever it is needed.

Picture the scene  in the dimly lit 1960’s house, the kicking legs, the firm grip, the wriggling red cheeks!

A proper good old fashioned spanking!

But did Charlotte learn?

No!

The very next day! Can you believe it? Naughty Charlotte was caught smoking in the toilets and was sent home in disgrace. Mummy was contacted at the cafe she worked at, and stormed home to find her naughty disgraced daughter trembling in the hallway.

“Oh you are in for it this time young lady!”

She immediately bent her over, by the stairs, with the front door still open!

WHACK!

“Owwwwwwoooooooowwwwwwwwoooooohhhh!”

“You naughty naughty girl!”

THWWWWWWACK

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhooooooooowwwwwwowwwwowwwwowwwww!”

Soon there was quite a crowd at the gate, watching the spectacle! However, once the humiliation part of her punishment it was time to go upstairs. “Get up to your room!”

The power in the hairbrush and her demeanour was tangible.

Once upstairs, Charlotte knew the drill, it was time to sit with the cane in her mouth, to wait. This wait was a ‘calculated wait’ , a different length every time. Charlotte sat in dread listening for a creak on the stairs.

After half an hour the tell tale creak was heard, steps got closer and the door slowly opened.

Mummy took the cane and stood behind her, cane raised. “You have excelled yourself today haven’t you madam?”

Charlotte stood up and bent over without a word being said. Hoping that obedience and a well presented bottom might impress her.

Mummy grabbed the hairbrush again.

“Silly girl, nothing will save you! The boys are in their garden! I am going to open the window so they can hear! Get over there girl!”

“Hands on your head!”

“But they can see my twinkle!”

“Shut up!”

Smack smack smack! The heavy wooden brush fell at speed. Charlotte saw the boys looking, and tried not to make a fuss, but soon she was screaming and pleading for mercy. She received none whatsoever.

“Turn around, bottom to the window!”

Then it was back to the mirror, ‘to see her own shame!’

Finished with a dose of corner time, back down in the living room. “Your Aunty Liz and Amber are coming for tea, we are having shepherd’s pie. You are having bread and jam! You can stay there throughout our meal! Now…you can rub!”

 

Did this cure her wanton behaviour?

No, of course not. I went by tonight and heard a voice shout, ‘No no no Mummy! Not the belt!

I wonder what she has done this time?

Some girls never learn!

I’m so pleased!

Asa

MY GIRLS IN VINTAGE CLOTHING

 

This will be a huge section,  I am slowly going to fill it up with my old tumblr photos. Be patient!

Just a note before we start. I love to spank maids, and it is a rule in my studio, that any naughty model when shooting a maid scene, gets a spanking before the others. Here I am upholding the law!



So! Off we go! My girls in Victorian attire….

This is Samantha acting the part of a Victtorian Mistress, reprimanding Kate, who is acting the maid. Taken for a story I am working on.

 

Here is a little sequence played by Samantha, of a maid going over the stool for the first time

“Go to the stool Samantha.”

“Bend over.”

“Dress and petticoats up girl!”

She turns, trembling.

“Hold your position for six of the birch. Do not move! If you do, we will start again!”

‘Yes Master.”

VINTAGE DRAWINGS

This will be a huge section, I will slowly transfer my old tumblr collection. Be patient!

This is a drawing by HERRIC. He illustrated spanking novels mainly, but also did lots of illustrations for ‘La Vie Parisienne’ a society magazine. Often, like this, with a hint of spanking!

Book covers from girls books often depict schoolgirls who need a spanking!

I mean look at these smoking in an out of bounds store room! Surely the whole lot of them should form a line and bend over for a bare bottom spanking! Except the ringleader!

She can bend over before them all for six of the best on the bare!

….and as for this girl!

It looks to me like the word ‘prefect’ will be rubbed out soon. She has been caught stealing from jacket pockets in the cloakroom.  Miss has asked if anyone else knows of any misdemeanours she has done, and all are putting their hands up to tell. I think it will be knickers down before the class for six of the best, then corner time!

Now this young lady has been sent home from school in disgrace, for cheating in exams. Mummy is talking to her…

“You can kneel on that chair and bare your bottom! Stay there whilst your sisters come home, and remain there until Daddy comes home! I have just rung him and he says it is the belt on the bare for you, young lady!”

Oh!! …you naughty girls! Peeking at Miss Antoinette, the French Mistress getting undressed!

The girl taking her turn says…”Let’s take our knickers off and finger ourselves as we take turn to look.”

i cough…”Ahem!! Yes, you can take your knickers off girls! Then get to my office for twelve of the best each, and with the senior cane! Come on! Off with your knickers, pull your slips up and run…come on! I am not bothered who sees you! And after you can stand on the school stage bent over, throughout dinner!”

FLICKERING IMAGES

 

This too will be a huge section, and like the others, I am slowly transferring my tumblr collection.

One of my all time favourites. It reminds me of Mrs Beeton, a lady famous for her cookery books! She also wrote for magazines of the day aimed at the upper classes, and wrote articles about the punishment of maids, especially spanking!

This next one is lovely isn’t it?

Imagine it in a grand old theatre foyer. Mummy has found out that her daughter and niece have decided to take an afternoon off school to go to a matinee. She is stood in wait, and before the laughing and jeering crowd of theatre goers she bares their bottoms for a spanking. Maybe lots of smacks all the way home with the added threat of ‘Just you wait until Daddy finds out!”

Testing canes ready for shipment to various schools. I remember each teacher at my school had their own. She must think of caned bottoms a hundred times a day!

The Girl on the Stool

Last night in your girlfriend’s bedroom you had a sexy conversation about spanking, she confessed that she wants to be spanked often and masturbates about it all the time.

Of course, you were delighted and said that you did too. You gave her a little spanking, but her Mum and Dad were downstairs, so nothing heavy.

However, she said she would try to get spanked in class tomorrow!

The next day dawns and true enough she is naughty all day! At 3.30 p.m. She was called out to the front by Miss Kenworthy, and made to bend over before the class.

To her surprise and your delight, it was on the bare!

Sat at your desk, your cock almost lifted the wooden legs off the floor!

it was a good spanking, her bottom was red by the end of it.

She was made to stand before the projection screen, you could hardly take your eyes off of her bottom.

You could resist no longer, and taking a huge risk you began to masturbate under the desk, hand in pocket, which had a hole, flicking wet slippery tip back and forth with your finger tips, a handkerchief wrapped around its glistening purple head.

Before you, just feet away was the humiliation stool.

For the last ten minutes she was made to sit on it. Other girls giggled, but the boys were in awe.

She looked at you and winked. She knew what you were doing, and sniggered.

“Turn around! Face your naughty bottom to the class, and be quiet! Unless you want a couple with the cane!” Shouted Miss Kenworthy.

She turned. You rubbed harder and faster, feeling the sperm begin to rise.

And you shot your load into the handkerchief.

Nobody knew.

Just us…..

…naughty you!

Cheeky Cherry

One of the most endearing, yet cheekiest of all the girls I have had to punish, and in her case on several occassions, was this girl. Cherry Blush. Blush by name, and looking at her bottom after a spanking, often it was Blush by nature!

She was always smiling, apart from when being caned! Always cheeky. Even in corner time I caught her winking at her classmates with her bare bottom on show once!

Such was the nature of the girl….delightful, yet naughty. Even the afternoon after a morning six of the best she would greet me in the corridor with a cheery “Hello Mister Jones!”

Oh she appeared n my punishment book many times!

Along with the Goverment Code of Practice for punishing naughty girls bottoms, I always did it fairly and with respect. Apart from the odd occassion when a girl had been caught stealing or some other serious nonsense. Then I would thrash the bare buttocks mercilessly.

I remember one of her first crimes, and I knew then, that she would be back many times. She was charging the boys fifty pence to look at her bottom, £1 to feel it, and £2 for masturbating as they did so!

Mind you! Who could blame the boys!

Yes, she ended up on the corridor naughty stool for the whole afternoon for that!

Before that I spanked her soundly before the class.

I made her stand before the board, so that day she spent a lot of time contemplating the rewards of being naughty!

Did it make much difference? Nooooo….she ended up in corner time on many occassions!

To be honest, I think she damn well enjoyed the bloody experience! I think she was quite an exhibitionist!

She usually took her punishment well, but on the odd occassion I had to do it hard. Following the guidelines you see! It is no good caning just the same for every crime. Like when she bared her bottom on the M1 on a school trip. I made her pay dearly for that, with added humiliation!

Oh my word, I saw that worried little face very often!

Even taking her own knickers down was different, almost a striptease show! What a naughty girl!

Her worst crime was being caught playing with herself before the class when the School Governors were on a visit!

Before the class, and the Board of Governors I thrashed her hard in a very well presented position, oh she squealed and cried, but I did not relent! Standards must be maintained you see.

She has left now, and is a model. I still bump into her, and she always greets me with a cheery smile and a wink!

She is a lovely girl. Did I do her any good? I think so, but one thing is for sure….it was fun trying!

 

Mr Jones

The Desk

Oh dear….sometimes I wonder if any of the girls at this school have any commen sense at all!

These two have decided it is a wizard jape to draw penis diagrams in our Geography text books. It was so easy to catch them. I gave them two books with no drawings in, witnessed by my good friend and colleague Miss Kenworthy. On return of the books at the end of class I looked, and they they were.

I have sent them to the punishment room to write a three side essay on why they should not deface school property.

I can hear them laughing and giggling as I approach. I was going to smack their naughty bottoms on receipt of their work, now it will be six sides of A4, and four strokes of the cane!

I enter the room….”Quiet!”

 

“Stand up!”

“Stand up straight, look to the front, hands by your sides! No talking. Now….remove your knickers! I am going to cane you both, and it is now a six page essay, handed in tomorrow morning after assembly!”

“Yes Sir…Yes Sir”

“Bend over!”

 

I swish my cane…..swiiiish…..swishhh

“Right girls, no nonsense now, let’s get it over with!”

WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK

“owwww oooooh owww-wwww ohhhhhhh ooh!!!!!”

CRACK, WHACK, THWACK, SMAAAACK

“owwwwww, ohhhh my, ohhhhhhhh, Oooooh!!!!!”

The punishment was swift and effective, both girls blushing, red faced and red bottomed.

“Sit down!”

 

“Books out!”

“Write out fifty times….’Naughty girls get red striped bottoms’…in your best handwriting!”

Both girls were sniffing and wriggling, it was obviously stinging a great deal.

“Now both of you, sit in the humiliation row. The rest of your class will be here shortly to hear you read your lines out loud.”

The rest of the class come in giggling. I make no attempt to stop them.

“Right, first you Samantha, then Kate, stand up, no rubbing your bottoms! Read your work, loud and clear!”

The room explodes into laughter as they do so.

……two more naughty girls dealt with!

Asa

 

Mrs.Walters Finishing School

UNDER CONSTRUCTION, PLEASE CALL BACK OFTEN TO SEE IT DEVELOP, it will change lots as I go along, and revisit pages, a lot of what you read will have dropped straight from the inside of my head to the page, so it won’t be polished, so to speak…

This story is based on the true recorded events of a finishing school in Bristol, England in the late 1800’s.

I have researched the accounts of ‘the Lady With the Birch’ as well as I can. I have narrowed its location down to Oakfield Road, in Clifton, near Bristol. A rather well to do and respected residential district. I have scoured as many Victorian photographs of dwellings in   that typical middle class suburban district as I can find, here is one of Rokeby House.

Lovely isn’t it?

But I do not think that is the house we are looking for. I think this one, is the one I want it to be for our story…

Can you see the little brick arch in the centre at the top? Perfect for a school bell isn’t it? Along with the central gate, it looks more like a finishing school than any other I have found.

(The actual address given for the school was 53 Oakfield Road and an apartment there was recently up for sale, at the end of the story I will show you a photo of it as it is now.)

I say school.

It was not a school as you know them today. It was for girls and young women, many of them over twenty. It taught music and art, as well as all the usual subjects. But it also taught deportment and manners. In other words it taught the Victorian young lady how to behave. In particular a certain type of young lady.

Naughty girls and young women to be accurate.

Or brats, as we would call them today, the type of girl who considers many people who try to help her become an adult, stupid. She answers back, she says ‘you are wrong… ACTUALLY.” With emphasis on the words she feels make her sound important and clever. Usually spoilt, and spared the rod. Girls who become hysterical easily, stamping their feet, making a fuss over nothing. With weak parents or Uncles etc, who do nothing but let it proceed unabashed.

The house where the school was is up for sale, and I am driving down today, stopping overnight, and looking around the place tomorrow. Would you like to come? We can talk about spanking and bottoms all day long!

We have a lovely journey and lodge at ‘The Great Western Hotel’, a beautiful, elegant old railway establishment. I love steam trains, that is why I decided to stay  there, Mrs Walters must have passed by on a tram or trolley bus many times.

We sat up late drinking and talking of corner time, implements, bottoms, bloomers, school knickers, and our spanking exploits etc. Did you come to my room? Maybe…but we will keep that secret.

Excitedly we eat breakfast, a full English. We remark how fried tomatoes look like a well paddled bottom with their dark, almost burnt rings on their skin. We check out of the hotel, and jump in my old car, go to pick the keys up from the Estate Agent as I have arranged, and drive to the area with a lady from their office. Both of us a little worried that it will look very modern and not at all how we hope, but what a lovely surprise greets us, it is almost like going back in time

I take charge of the exploration, I am a little like that I’m afraid, but you seem happy to let me be the leader of the expedition. Funny that, most people do.

We are alone, the house is completely empty, the young woman who has accompanied us is happy to stay in the car, looking at her phone messages and the like, no doubt. She has told us to take our time, and just ask if we need anything. Other than coming to check everything is locked when we depart, she is happy to leave us to it for as long as we like.

She has complied to my earlier request to be left alone, happily. I am pleased, she would not have understood the need for silent contemplation.

Let’s walk through that gate, up the short, pretty garden path, to the front door. To the left is what was probably the parlour of Mrs Walters, the proprietor. To the right of the tiled entrance hallway, next to the wall mounted mahogany coat and umbrella stand, is the door to what must have been her study. Let’s peep in, quietly. Just think, her coat has probably hung on the chapel style hat pegs times aplenty.

I ask you to let your imagination work. “Let’s drift back in time. There might be ghosts here, maybe we will hear distant cries of young women being birched…who knows?”

You take a step closer to me, your eyes wide, looking around into the shadows.

“Shhhhhh, don’t make a sound, can you see her?” There, in the bay window is sat the lady in question. A tall woman, sat straight, dipping her pen in the inkwell, let’s look to see what she is writing.

We look over her right shoulder, her pen is busily scratching away. It is such an evocative place that we can almost see an aspidistra, and lots of pale pink bilberry glassware, the smell of beeswax and coal smoke fill the air. A grandfather clock ticks heavily, as if counting the beat to a birching.

She is penning two advertisements, it seems three girls have successfully left and she has spaces.

What you are about to read are two real adverts out of the many she put in the local newspapers. I will verify everything you read at the end of this story, by showing you copies of actual newspapers.

On the 5th October 1889 this advert appeared in The Daily Telegraph.

‘Bad Temper, Hysteria, Idleness etc. Cured by strict discipline and careful training. Three girls received’

…it seems a strange way of saying it, but I assume it means she will receive three more girls. I believe it was a little like a Victorian version of Twitter, an advert was only allowed so many characters.

She gave an address to reply to, that of Mrs.Clapp. Of St Johns Wood, Bristol. This was a company who made birches. I have no idea why the applications did not go straight to number 53. I summise that they were close friends and associates.

A few days later this advert appeared in The Times.

‘Intractible girls trained and educated. Excellent References.’ It also advertised her papers for sale at a shilling each. They covered various subjects such as; Hints on Management of Children,  and The Rod.

Her own address given this time.

Now let our minds continue as before… A girl, Lucy is almost dragged to the door. Her parents have had enough, they have answered the advert and have been interviewed. They deem themselves lucky to have their twenty year old daughter accepted. Lucy thinks otherwise of course.

PHOTO OF DEBORAH (AS MRS.WALTERS) OPENING THE DOOR WITH A BIRCH IN HER HAND

The girl is unceremoniously taken by the hand and led inside, with her solitary bag. “It doesn’t do to make a fuss Mrs Hastings, it only unsettles the girls. You can visit next Sunday, you will see how she has settled in then, and be able to take tea with her…goodbye.”

The dark oak, stained glass door shuts firmly, the shiny brass knocker rattles three times before it settles. Mrs Hastings looks at the door and up to the upstairs windows, where three girls look down and smile politely. Sniffing back her tears, she walks away.

“Rosealee! Come and take Lucy’s bag up to your room. There’s a good girl.” Says the crisply spoken Mrs Walters, who turns to look at the bewildered Lucy. “Follow me!”

Lucy walks nervously behind the lean frame of Mrs Walters, into the parlour, and sits down.

“Don’t you dare sit down before me girl! Have you no manners at all? Stand up! Stand up this instance you silly girl!”

Lucy stares defiantly, without moving.

A sinister smile spreads across the face of Mrs Walters, as she reaches over for a bell, and rings it.

PHOTO OF DEBORAH RINGING THE BELL

A young woman walks in, trim of figure, and a handsome disposition. Lucy was to find out that this was Tamara, the daughter of Mrs Walters, who taught Music and Art. “Tamara dear, would you fetch Lucy’s welcoming present please?”

Tamara curtseyed, turned and left.

Lucy smiled, the same willful smile she gave mother, when she won another round of ‘the contest’. “A present? This is going to be easy!” Thought the girl.

Tamara returned with two boxes, a small delicate one, and a large plain cardboard one. The former was wrapped in pretty paper, the latter was just the well made box, with the name CLAPPER stamped on the side.

“There you are dear, a welcoming present, something to keep you nice and warm.” Said Mrs Walters as she took the big box and put it on Lucy’s lap. “But open this first.” She said passing the inviting small box.

Lucy sat looking positively pleased, and grinned at Mrs Walters, tearing open the pretty paper, not bothering to read the label. The paper fell to the floor.

Tamara looked to her mother, who stared back, with her face flushed. Dropping paper on purpose was a very big NO.

Lucy held up a bundle of ribbons, all delicately embroidered with her name and flowers, bright yellow daffodils. She discarded them, letting a few slip to the floor as she reached eagerly for the big box. Within seconds the lid was removed, to reveal a brand new, exquisite birch, it smelt of the fresh countryside.

Lucy looked at Mrs Walters, she had never seen one before. “What am I supposed to do with this?” She asked mockingly, frowning at the birch as if it was a silly little toy, like a doll, meant for young children.

Mrs Walters stood, and Tamara went to stand behind Lucy. “Well, first of all, you take a ribbon, and tie it in a bow, just here.” Instructed Mrs Walters in a kind soft voice.

Lucy did so, with an annoyed ‘tut’ gently and deftly. “Now what?”  She asked with a bored look to the sky.

In a very matter of fact way Mrs Walters told her. “You take your dress off, bend over the chaise lounge, and take a beating with it dear!”

Lucy’s face turned ashen.

“Now.”

Unusually for Lucy, she did not hesitate. She had never been ordered to do such a thing, and had never seen such a strong determined figure telling her to do as she said.

PHOTO OF DEBORAH WITH THE BIRCH, AND LUCY UNDRESSING

Tamara, like some kind of smiling assassin took the wrists of the girl, saying sweetly “it is for your own good”

And there she was only fifty minutes into her year at the school, bottom up, bloomers open at the back, feeling six good hard swats of the birch on her bare rump.

PHOTO OF THE BIRCHING

“That is the only time you will get just six young lady, I never sentence a girl to less than twelve. It may be reduced to ten if you take it well, make a huge fuss and it will have more added and quite possibly start all over again! I will not tell you again! Rosalee! In here now!”

The girl came marching in, straight and quiet.

“Show Lucy to your room. This is your room mate, learn well from her. If you get punished in your room, she gets the same. If she gets punished in your room, you get the same. Off you go, tea is in one hour. Do not be late!”

Lucy stood rubbing her bottom, tears filling her eyes. “Yes Mrs.Walters.”

The two girls left.

 

 

 

 

CALL BACK SOON, AS I ADD TO THE STORY…..BYE!

 

 

 

The New Member of Staff

 

 

There had been a meeting of the ‘Board of Governors’ at Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls. It unaminously decided that a room was needed to be fitted out solely for discipline, and a dedicated member of staff was urgently required to run it. A no nonsense expert in the art of corporal punishment. Interviews were held over the summer holidays, and we had lots of applicants, I feel we made an excellent choice in hiring a young lady named Miss Tamara Kenworthy.

And so it was that on the first day of term, that if you walked down the corridor to the reception.

…and looked at the staff notice board, you would see a new photo had been added, just below the photos of Head and Deputy Head, in a line of senior staff, the Heads of Department.

You would see this photograph of Miss Kenworthy, the ‘Head of Discipline’.

Quite an innocent looking photo of an attractive young woman approaching her prime. Tamara looked charming, and gentle.

There were a crowd of girls looking and chattering about  the photo, when all together they stopped, as Miss Kenworthy clip clopped her way to them in her red high heels and black business suit. They parted like the Red Sea as she walked to the notice board and unlocked it. She took the photo (shown above) out, and replaced it with this one of her holding a black, harsh looking punishment stick. Not a cane, but something altogether more sinister.

I was watching from the balcony which runs around the reception quadrangle, looking down. I was stood outside my office, the Headmaster’s Office. I nodded satisfactorily at her first dramatic move in ‘the Game of Discipline’ she had begun. We had chosen well.

The new photograph was better and conveyed the correct image, that of a no nonsense, strict disciplinarian, who knew how to wield a cane, a tawse and a plimsol.

She clip clopped her way back to whence she came, to a corridor, that housed her ‘Room of Discipline’, with its new sign ‘REPORT ROOM’. Because most girls who visited it would be ‘on report’.  A room that now had two chairs outside, and a stack of six more inside,  in case they were needed on a special occassion. On the right hand side of the door was a small stool, the humiliation stool, which would have to be polished by every girl who stood on it.

That little row of seats, and the stool had picked up a new name from the clever, witty, but very naughty girls of this Correctional Institute. From this day on it was referred to as…’Death Row’. In the first week of its existence some unknown girl stuck a piece of paper on the door, with a notice scrawled on, straight  from  Dante’s Inferno, ‘Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.’

Tamara took it off and had it framed, and kept it at her home, a keepsake she would value for ever, along with many others.

I asked her to come and see me, after her appointment, this was about a month ago. I gave her a budget to spend and a list of suppliers. She spent her time up until today, the day of the photo, setting up her room. I gave her complete freedom, it was her domain. She put desks in, for girls who had lines or essays to write, and an array of implements and apparatus.

Her first act was to go to one of our trusted suppliers, which was in a town just a few miles away. Here she handled the canes to get a feel for them and ordered two dozen of various lengths and diameter. Over the years to come she would make great friends with a Miss Alexander, who as you can see here, made excellent canes.

Slowly but surely her equipment came, including a thick, hard backed, leather bound punishment book.

Much of her time was spent alone, it was after all the summer holidays and the teaching staff were on holiday, she arranged the room to suit her needs.

All alone with the school quiet, she inspected her corporal punishment  equipment

The flexibility of the canes were perfect, and she began to have thoughts of making them wrap around the curves of  naked girl’s buttocks.

The room smelled beautiful, it had a new carpet and the wood had been freshly bees waxed by the caretaker. The radiators ticked, because the same caretaker had sent a memo to her saying  he needed to test the heating system. It was a rainy day, and for summer quite cool. The noise of the rain rattling on the window pains made her feel glad to be cosily settled in her room. She locked the door, and slowly walked around caressing the desks. She imagined the cool shock of the wood on a naked schoolgirls belly as she was draped over, bare bottom presented, knickers around her ankles.

She loved everything about spanking.

The thoughts developed into a little fantasy, a masturbation fantasy. She began to breathe deeply as she pushed her groin to the edge of the desk, rhythmically.

She straightened and her hands ran up her hips, gripping the hem of her skirt.

To reveal her delightful, see through, black knickers.

Which she pulled down. The cool air caressed her bottom.

She pulled her cheeks apart, and the cool air entered the hole of her bottom and made her take a sharp intake of breath as she realized how wet she was.

She christened her room of discipline and shame by self spanking her beautifully curved bottom. As she hoped, the room had near perfect acoustics. The crisp sound of the smacks filled the air. She closed her eyes, and her mind went back to her own school spankings. She recalled how she hoped that one day she would be delivering rattan to a bare bottom as the teacher was delivering it to hers.

And now, here she was, being paid to spank, and cane.

She saw herself, in school uniform, yet at the age she was now. In her mind she was an adult schoolgirl, in black and white, like the images she searches for on-line to aid her masturbation. The knickers she pulled down were not hers, they were her old large white school knickers.

She spoke to herself…”Bare your bottom for a spanking you naughty girl!”

She could see her reflection in the window and looked at herself, as she made a mental note to open the blinds to humiliate a girl. Nobody was around to see today, so she continued to look into her reflected eyes. “Present your bottom Tamara!”

Then she began to spank herself harder…

And harder…

And faster and faster…

Then she leaned back and fingered wet slit to orgasm.

She came hard and loud, not holding back, safe and sound in the knowledge that she was perfectly safe to do as she wished in her room…her beautiful room of pain and punishment.

The next few days saw her trying out various apparatus to punish the girls over. It also saw her to go to a local shopping mall, to buy a school uniform, like in her masturbation fantasy. She wanted to know how it felt, and how high gym-slips would ride up, and, she thought naughtily, behind her locked door she could dress up whenever she liked, to fulfill her private schoolgirl fantasies.

And so it was that Miss Kenworthy began to test out her equipment, with her hair in a pony tail like she wore at school, and a gym slip (a little short, but she loved it, and most girls at the school wore short ones anyway. She wanted to look like the girls she punished.)

She put two of the chairs from her stack back to back, which was how pupils at Winchester School were punished, and to this day the position is called the Winchester Position.

She stood before them, imagining how they would feel when she ordered them to kneel and bend, ‘knees and palms must remain on the chairs at all times’ she said out loud as she climbed on.

“Hmmmm, I like it but the bottom should be forced up more, maybe the elbows should touch.” So she tried that.

“Present your bottom higher girl!” She said to herself sternly, and giggled.

“Oh that is much better.”

She had been shopping in all sorts of places and could not resist a little wooden rocking horse. “This will humiliate the older ones when I tell them to get on it and rock, like a little girl, as I crop their naughty bottoms!”

She put the chairs away, and climbed upon the little horse, which she decided to call ‘Neddy the Punishment Pony’.

She placed her palms and toes on the base and rocked. “I think this could work very well indeed.” She said to herself. “Once rocking I could pick up the rhythm, whack their bottoms as they get to the rear end of the rocking and then WHACK! Send them forward again! Oooooh imagine one of those haughty ‘no it all’ types on this, before a group of other girls!”

She had mounted a real saddle on the little horse and as she rocked back and forth it excited her, she pressed down hard and galloped to orgasm. “I can see some submissive types rather likening this!” She gasped.

Also, as she moved, she discovered that her knickers had caught on the saddle. “Oh I say! What a lucky accident! I will use that to hold their knickers down.”

She galloped to a second orgasm, and was so wet that as she slowly rocked to a standstill, the draught created by the movement, blew cool on her sopping wet cunt… “Oooooh, that’s nice!” As she climbed off her love juice stuck slightly, and she looked at it stretching between the saddle and her swollen labia.

Miss Kenworthy decided not to wipe it off, in fact she decided there and then never to wipe any off. How satisfying it would be to rub her cunt to orgasm now and then on a saddle, stained with the pussy juice of young virgins!

Tamara watched it run in a trickle and dry.

The next thing she tried was something her Grandma had left her. An old towel/clothes airing rack. She liked a girl to have something to grip.

“Oh my! I think this will present the bottom well for a caning!” She bent over and gripped a rail.

“Oh yes Tamara, there will be a few wetting their knickers before their panties are yanked down on this!”

She told herself to get on tip toe.

“Oh my word, what a position, ooooh just imagine, waiting for that first whack, trembling, and your bum hole twitching away in fear!” She thought.

“Present your naughty bottom for twelve of the very, very best young lady!” She said to herself.

She tensed the muscles around her anus to make it twitch as if in fear. “Oh I hope I get some doing this!”

Then she pulled out a piano stool which she thought would be perfect for the kiss of a tawse. She had two, one broad supple one, and one thick, inflexible strap. “God I am going to make some of you squeal and beg for mercy!”

“Oh wow! If they try to grip their scorching cheek they’ll drop over! Same if they try to resist a blow. Ohhhhh Miss Kenworthy! You could bring blistters to a fine upturned rump on here!”

Her bottom had never been presented so well, she could feel the lips on her pussy open, she was so stretched!

Over the next days she tried out most of her apparatus, and also various places in the room to simply bend over, so she could find the place to stand for maximum swing.

She loved just bending over, she excited herself and her quivering quim time and time again, often giving herself a spanking and blushing cheeks.

The first day of term was approaching, she was getting excited, in more ways than one.

Something, alluded her. She needed the ultimate way of shaming and humiliating a girl. It was the Friday before the new term when she found it, a large mirror. To be known as ‘The Mirror of Shame’, she would punish girls before it so they could see themselves ‘get it’, and afterwards stand before it as she wrote a record of their punishment in her book of shame, the punishment record of ‘The Report Room’.

She placed it next to her store room, a simplistic minimalist place for the ultimate punishment and shame.

The first day of term arrived, she got in early, dressed in her favorite red and black.

Everything was in place, she caressed her implements.

She kissed her crop, for ‘good look’ and strode to assembly. On the way she stopped at the notice board and put a different photo in. She saw Mr.Jones the Headmaster looking down from the balcony outside his office, and smiled. He smiled back and nodded satisfaction.

Within days a steady stream of naughty bottoms found their way to her ‘Report Room’ to be dealt with. She was both surprised and excited at how quickly her punishment book was filling up.

By the end of the first week she was on the third page, as girl after girl came nervously to her door with a report card, and sat on the two chairs outside.

To be punished…

Some harshly, like Charlotte, on the left here, and her friend Sarah. Miss Kenworthy gave them both a real thrashing, Charlotte in particular making a huge fuss, screaming ‘I’m sorry Miss Kenworthy! Owwwwww please stop Miss Kenworthy, no more, please please!” But Tamara thrashed her bottom as she wriggled, as she did with them all, begging or not.

Tamara was in punishment heaven, bottom after bottom came through the door, to be bent over in any way she wished, to be punished by whatever implement she liked. How many girls she deterred she never would know, but one thing for certain, was that like all the other schools, most girls did not learn. The queue for punishment just kept the same, day after glorious day.

The two girls we saw just now, had to come back three days later, and again no mercy was shown, no matter how much they screamed and begged Miss Kenworthy to stop caning them on their already tender bottoms. This was her way, if they needed to be punished, they were punished… Simple!

The girls just kept coming…

Sometimes groups of them came, all bent over in a row.  To have their buttocks reddened!

Danielle here was a frequent visitor and spent a lot of time facing the wall, a projection screen, or a corner.

Or over a stool.

Girls soon learned toto fear Miss Kenworthy, and being told they were being put on report,  meant something painful.

Yet it has to be remembered that these girls were at the extreme end of naughtiness, they were the wayward girls of Saint Helena High School, they were sent here because other schools could not cope with them. So all 878 of them, were naughty to the core…cheeky and defiant, rude and full of bratty behavior. Many were petty criminals, they were here to be sorted, and educated. Miss Tamara Kenworthy was at the ‘sorted’ end, paid to punish their naughty bottoms, in a much more severe way than main stream schools.

Her first week came to a satisfactory end. She loved it here!

And now some specific girls…see part two