Charlotte and Samantha have found their naughty bottoms in my study again. I have just chastised them. I am now stood at my implement cupboard selecting a tawse to teach them a lesson with.
I pick a stiff, long, narrow, thick inflexible one. Then I turn, holding it behind my back. “Get over to my desk, and bend over, side by side.
I love seeing schoolgirl knickers and private parts, it is a real perk to my job. As I watch them walk smartly over to my ‘Captain’s Desk’, my manhood begins to stir as my thoughts go to their tight panties. I can almost see them in my mind…
They stand side by side at the desk. The wonderful feeling of control and power surges through my body and right up to the tip of my erection, now throbbing. The Board of Education has given me this power and I love it. Obey me they must.
They arrange themselves neatly besides each other, their pleated skirts hanging loosely. My anticipation is almost unbearable. My mind is under their skirts, watching their damp little panties as they nervously prepare themselves.
I compose myself and give the command. “BEND OVEEER!!”
I place the instrument of punishment on the desk. My God, it is a fearsome looking weapon. I boom out again, in a calm no nonsense way. “LIFT YOUR SKIRTS HIGH!”
They do so. Two magnificent, firm, knicker clad bottoms, clad in tight white cotton are there before me. I make them wait, I can tell by the slight movement of the material creasing as I watch, that their naughty bottoms are twitching and quivering in nervous anticipation. ‘Let them wait for the next command.’ I think cruelly as I stare.
Focussed on the twitching crotches of those tight, white, panties, I allow my left hand to slide into my pocket for a little fiddle…
This story was inspired by a single throwaway line in the recent 2018 film Colette, starring Keira Knightley. Colette ghost wrote a series of novels about a girl called Claudine, based on her own personal experiences in C19 France. These were published by her husband, Henry Gauthier-Villars. He published Colette’s novels under his own pen name, ‘Willy’.
The first story, Claudine at School (Claudine à l’école), describes the final year of 15-year-old Claudine at secondary school in the village of Montigny, her confrontations with her headmistress, Mademoiselle Sergent, and her fellow students. The story begins with the new school year, marked by the arrival of the new headmistress, Miss Sergent, and her young assistant, Miss Aimée Lanthenay. Although Claudine begins an affair early on with Miss Lanthenay, Miss Sergent soon discovers the liaison and discourages Miss Lanthenay, ultimately taking her on as her own lover. Claudine feels betrayed and causes trouble for the two women with the help of her friends. Miss Lanthenay’s sister Lucy (Luce) arrives at the school, and Claudine mistreats her, but Lucy idiolises Claudine nonetheless.
The dialogue in the film went something like this:
“Have you started writing the next novel yet, Colette?” Willy inquired in an irritated voice. “You’ve had weeks to get started on it.”
“No I haven’t,” Colette responded sharply. “I’ve had far more important things to do.”
“What would have happened at school if you hadn’t done your homework, Colette?’ Willy said in an exasperated voice.
Colette laughed and replied, “Oh, I would have been given lines to write or maybe the headmistress would have put me across her knee and spanked my bottom!”
That’s all that was said, but it got me thinking how it might have been continued. So here goes!
Willy raised an eyebrow as his eyes suddenly gleamed with interest. “Were you ever spanked at school Colette? You didn’t mention it in your first novel ‘Claudine at School’.”
Colette looked at her husband and could see his evident interest. “Well, if you really must know, yes I was….on a number of occasions. In fact I remember it was rather nice!” she replied, laughing. “However, I didn’t put it into the story because I really didn’t think it would be of interest to the readers.”
“You clearly don’t know many of our readers very well. Of course they would have found it interesting. You must tell me all the salacious details, Colette.
“If that is what you would like, Willy,” replied Colette, “but you mustn’t be shocked by all the ‘salacious details’ as you phrase it!”
It all started in a rather innocent way as a schoolgirls’ play game. You probably know the sort of thing young children get up to when left to their own devices. They’re often keen to reenact situations that they encounter in everyday life.
During the long lunchtime break, a group of us girls would head to spend some time in a secluded glade in the woods a little way from the school. It was far enough away from the school not to be disturbed. Sometimes we would play the game we just called ‘school’. One of us would take on the role of headmistress, whilst the rest played her erstwhile pupils. From time to time, someone would pretend to play up and the headmistress would dutifully scold them and even sometimes put them across her knee for a mock spanking. As one of the ‘big’ girls (I was 15 at the time), more often than not, I took on the role of headmistress. You know me, always very bossy and assertive even at that age!
On one such occasion a girl called Lucy started to be very mischievous during one of these games. She started poking one of the other girls in the ribs and pinching her bottom as they sat on the ground in a semicircle around me in our mock classroom. The poor girl started to squeal and then burst into tears with Lucy’s unwanted attention.
Lucy was a pretty but very irritating 13-year-old, the younger sister of our young 19-year-old assistant teacher, Mademoiselle Aimee Lanthenay. Lucy had blue eyes and lovely golden yellow curly hair that reached half way down her back. She had a real crush on me, but I found her rather irksome and often mistreated her badly. However nasty I was towards her, she still seemed to idolise me and would try to follow me everywhere I went. I much preferred her older sister, Mademoiselle Aimee, on whom I had a crush.
Anyway, back to the woodland ‘classroom’. Trying to sound as stern as possible, I scolded Lucy for her silly behaviour and informed her that if I had to stop the lesson again, I would give her a sound spanking in front of all the other girls. I then continued to deliver a mock lesson on some topic I cannot now remember. However, within minutes, Lucy started her ‘poking and pinching game’ again.
“Right! Lucy, you were warned. Come out to the front now and get across my knee,” I said, sitting down on a convenient tree stump, theatrically patting my knee with my hand.
Lucy stood up and approached me, a mischievous look in her eyes.
“Oh Miss,” Lucy said with a smirking expression on her face, “do you have to spank me? I’ll be good as gold from now on.”
“Of course I do. You can’t say you weren’t warned. Now come here and get over my knee.”
Lucy slowly approached me and gracefully placed herself over my waiting lap, wriggling her petite body to make herself comfortable. I gazed down at her, wondering whether I should try to push the boundaries of our little game a little further than usual. As I’ve already said, Lucy was such an irritating little girl, following me everywhere I went. She never seemed phased when I was rude or nasty towards her. She seemed to lap it up and return for more. Perhaps it was time to try to put a stop to her ridiculous adoration of me. Should I spank her properly rather than just give her a series of playful slaps over her skirted bottom as was normally the case during such games?
After a little internal deliberation, I dared myself to take the game a few steps further and in my best imitation of our stern headmistress’ voice, I said, “I think a proper spanking is in order, don’t you Lucy?”
“Oh yes Miss, I’ve been so naughty. Please spank me hard,” replied Lucy giggling, saucily waggling her bottom at me.
“Are you really sure you want me to spank you properly, Lucy?” I inquired.
“Oh yes, Miss, I’m sure…please be so good as to do so!”
“Well, so be it then, Lucy. How can I resist such a charming request, but please do remember that you’ve asked for this.”
Without further ado, I took hold of the hem of her calf-length school skirt and rolled it slowly up over her back to expose her white stockinged legs and frilly open-crotch bloomers tied off with a pink ribbon around her waist. The other girls sat in silent anticipation, eagerly watching the developing scene as they started to realise that I was departing from the normal ‘script’. The expression on their faces was one of ‘Will she?!’
“Are you really going to spank her properly, Colette?” asked one of them.
“Why not? She has been a very naughty young lady and has agreed to let me do so.”
“Shouldn’t you bare her bottom if you’re going to do it properly, Mademoiselle?” another of the girls asked mischievously.
“Well, I suppose I could do so. What do the rest of you think?”
“Oh yes!” I could hear some of the others saying excitedly, their eyes riveted on Lucy’s frilly drawers lying across my knee.
“No, you can’t do that!” Lucy shouted out, as she suddenly realised where things were leading. “You can’t expose me in public. It wouldn’t be decent!”
“Go on Miss, you said she should be spanked properly. Open her drawers and give her a good walloping on her bare botty! That’s how the headmistress spanks us when we’ve been naughty,” shouted out another of the younger girls, clearly desperately keen to see some real action. Many of them also found Lucy rather irritating and thoroughly annoying, so no one had any real sympathy for her plight.
The girl whom Lucy had poked and pinched spoke up, “Go on Colette, you’re the headmistress. Spank her properly and make her squeal for forgivenesses! She really hurt me with all her silly poking and pinching. She deserves it!”
Sensing the mood of the assembled company, I decided to go for it. It was about time someone really took Lucy to task. My hand took hold of the pink bow that held Lucy’s drawers together at the waist and, with a flourish, pulled it undone. The rear flaps of the drawers fell back and her well-formed plump, round rump sprang into view. Her skin looked beautifully soft and almost the color of alabaster, more like a Greek statue than human flesh…a rich whitey cream.
Feeling a cool breeze now wafting across her denuded bottom cheeks, Lucy gave a high pitched squeal and a red blush spread across her face. She crossed her legs and tried to clench her buttocks tightly together, trying hard to hide her exposed bottom and what lay between her legs.
“Oh Colette, what have you done?” she wailed. “It’s so embarrassing. I shall tell my sister how you exposed me so shamefully. What on earth are you thinking? My sister will tell the headmistress, and she’ll surely take a martinet to your bare bottom, you horrible bitch! See how you feel then!”
In a calm voice, I replied, “Don’t be such a silly baby, Lucy. I thought you wanted me to spank you properly and I have every intention of doing so now that I have got this far. Play the game and let’s entertain the class!”
So saying, I took a firm grip around Lucy’s waist with my left hand, and carefully pushed back the flaps of Lucy’s drawers as far as they would go to leave a clear field. Then I raised my hand and slapped the right cheek of Lucy’s bottom with a resounding smack! Lucy let out a loud squeal and kicked her stocking legs in the air as her buttock wobbled on impact. I then delivered another smack to her other cheek, producing a similar reaction from Lucy, her bottom now displaying two pinkish hand prints where my smacks had landed.
I gently caressed the two plump globes of bottom flesh savouring the feel of this highly spankable bottom and enjoying the sense of power that I had with Lucy firmly held down over her lap. Then, raising my hand again, I continued spanking Lucy as hard as I could, interspersed with a steady procession of questions, to which Lucy could only manage to squeal her brief responses in between each smack.
“Is this what you asked for, Lucy?” SMACK!
‘‘Yeowwh! No, no!
“Is this what you would call a proper spanking?” SMACK! SMACK!
“Yeowwhhhh! Yes, but please, please stop, Colette. It hurts!”
“You’re such a naughty girl, Lucy, aren’t you?” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“Aghhh! Yeow! ….No I’m not!”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Oh yes you are! Admit it, Lucy, or I shall continue to spank your naughty little bottom until you do so!”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
By this time, Lucy was howling loudly and kicking her legs in a most obscene fashion as she tried to struggle free. Her bottom was beginning to take on a much deeper red colour as I continued to wallop her bottom. I was enjoying myself immensely. I’d never before administered a proper spanking, but I was rapidly finding out what fun it could be, particularly with someone so irritating as young Lucy!
“You bitch…stop, stop!” Lucy managed to shout out between her sobs.
Unfortunately, Lucy’s use of the word ‘bitch’ for a second time only encouraged me to wallop her bottom even harder.
“I’m a bitch, am I?” I said. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“I had better live up to my name then hadn’t I, Lucy?”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
“Yeowwhhhh! Yeowwhhhh! Yeowwhhhh!”
“If you admit that you have been a very naughty girl and apologise nicely for calling me a bitch, I might just stop spanking you,” I said as I continued to rain down harder and harder smacks across Lucy’s naked cheeks, making them really dance and bounce up and down across my lap.
Lucy seemed to be rather stubborn and, despite the pain and her yelps, she steadfastly refused to do so. However, I also was made of stern stuff and had no intention of stopping until I got an admission and apology from Lucy. And so my hand continued to rise and fall, filling the air with the sound of loud smacks. The class sat staring in total admiration of my treatment of Lucy’s posterior. They seemed to be enjoying every minute of it.
After a while, there started to be a subtle change in Lucy’s response, which caught me totally by surprise. Lucy’s wild kicking and wriggling, changed to more measured rising and falling of her buttocks, almost as though she was presenting me with it to be smacked. Her yelps of pain also started to change to sounds more akin to moans of pleasure. These started off quietly, but steadily became louder and louder. I also noticed that there was an increasing amount of dampness between her legs.
I was a little puzzled by this change and temporarily stopped the spanking, gazing at the now crimson cheeks that lay twitching across my lap. She was clearly deriving some perverse pleasure from my spanking. I found that very strange! Oddly, Lucy’s bottom continued to rise and fall in a rather obscene manner, even though I was no longer spanking it. She suddenly realised that I had ceased walloping her and looked over her shoulder at me with a pleading, tear stained face, and said, “Please Colette, please don’t stop! Spank me hard and fast… please!”
I wasn’t at all sure what to do, but in the end I started spanking her harder and harder. Her plump little bottom writhed and wriggled over my lap until suddenly her body seemed to convulse and she let out a loud cry of ecstasy. How intriguing!
She lay limply across my lap, sobbing quietly. I gently caressed her bottom feeling the heat that I had generated, trying to calm her down. The other girls looked rather taken aback and rather horrified by what they had just witnessed. I decided it would be best if I stopped the game and suggested that they all had better return to the school for their afternoon classes.
As the last of the girls left, I gently pulled Lucy’s drawers back up and re-tied the pink bow around her waist, and then pulled her skirt back down, instructing her to get up. As she slowly rose off my lap, she turned her tear-stained face to me and smiled, saying, “Oh Colette, my dear Colette, thank you! I love you so much. That was a most beautiful experience. I’ve never felt anything so wonderful in my whole life.” She then bent forward and kissed me on the lips, before running off after the other girls as though nothing had happened!
I was left sitting there feeling totally confused. Far from finally managing to shake off Lucy’s infatuation with me, the spanking I had just given her seemed to have had the opposite effect. It had strengthened her adoration for me! I had enjoyed spanking her, but I was also left puzzled by the fact that she too had enjoyed the experience. How could that be? Surely a spanking was meant to hurt and punish, not to generate pleasure?
It must have been my Catholic upbringing, but I started to feel pangs of guilt at what I had just done and felt a strong need to confess to someone about it. But who? Then it occurred to me that I must talk to Lucy’s sister, Mademoiselle Aimee. Although she would probably be furious at what I had done to her younger sister, I felt that she was the only person who might be able to shed some light on the strange occurrence and I desperately needed to apologise for my behaviour toward her sister.
Later, after lessons had finished for the day, I sought out Mademoiselle Aimee in her rooms. Fortunately she was in and I got straight on with my confession, relating everything about what had transpired during our lunch break in the woods.
Aimee sat there in silence, giving nothing away about how she felt about my behaviour towards her sister, Lucy.
Finally, once I had finished recounting my tale, I ended by saying, “Mademoiselle, I have been very horrible to your little sister. What is even more terrible is that I enjoyed it. Can you ever forgive me? You must punish me like I punished Lucy. Please Mademoiselle, please spank me! I need to atone for my sins.”
The beautiful Mademoiselle Aimee looked at me with a slightly amused expression on her face and said, “What you did to Lucy was very nasty, although I can understand why you might have been driven to do it. As for her reactions towards the end of the spanking, I’m not sure if I can really explain that to you very easily. However, I am more than happy to spank you to help you ‘atone for your sins’ as you put it. You have been extremely horrible towards Lucy ever since she arrived at the school and thoroughly deserve to have your naughty young derriere well spanked!”
“Oh Mademoiselle, please do. I won’t be able to feel happy again until you have done so. Please spank me, please,” Colette pleaded.
“Very well, Colette, I will, but rest assured it’s going to hurt! Now remove your dress and place yourself across my knee.”
I did as she bid. Divesting myself of my cotton dress and underskirts, I lay down across Mademoiselle Aimee’s comforting knee. I felt my cotton drawers being slowly parted and my shift raised above my waist to expose my bare bottom to the air. Then the spanking began. Aimee started slowly, much to my relief, with little more than light slaps. I had never been spanked before. However, whether it was because it was Aimee who was spanking me or not, I started to find the experience of having my bare bottom spanked really quite arousing. After a while, Aimee gradually started to increase the intensity of the spanks and I went through a period of real pain and tears to the point I almost asked her to stop, but didn’t. Rather perversely you might think, I was desperate to know what it was that had given Lucy so much apparent pleasure from her spanking.
Aimee suddenly halted her spanking and I thought she was going to cheat me of the possibility of finding out what lay ‘on the other side’ of a spanking. Fortunately I was not to be so cheated.
“You really were a wicked, naughty girl, Colette, to spank my sister in the way you did, and to admit that you enjoyed the experience. Being an older girl than Lucy, on the verge of adulthood, I think you deserve a more severe punishment than just a hand spanking. I’m going to use my martinet on you to make sure that you feel you have truly atoned for your sins! Now, get off my lap and bend over my desk.”
I shuffled slowly over to Mademoiselle’s desk and bent forward, grasping the far edge tightly. As I did so, I could feel Mademoiselle loosen the ribbon of my drawers and they slid down on the floor, leaving my bottom and thighs totally exposed. She then opened a side drawer on her desk and withdrew her martinet, an innocuous looking little whip with nine relatively short leather ‘tails’ attached to a wooden handle. In France, this was regarded as the definitive instrument of punishment in schools rather than a birch or birch. I had never seen one used, but I was soon to catch up on this missed part of my ‘education’!
Standing to one side, I saw Mademoiselle unbutton the right sleeve of her beautifully embroidered white blouse and roll it up. She then raised it over her shoulder and held the end of the leather tails in her left hand. After a short pause, she brought the whip swishing down right across the crown of my bottom, the tails fanning out as they collided with my cheeks each delivering a sharp burning sting. God, how that hurt! It far worse than the hand spanking I had just experienced. Again, Mademoiselle raised her arm and proceeded to deliver another, even harder stroke. This time the tails curled around the lower, fleshier part of my cheeks, some managing to reach between my legs, causing me to squeal loudly.
“Do you think that you are beginning to admit the error of your ways?”
“Yeowwhhhh! Oui, Mademoiselle!” I yelled as she brought the whip smartly down for a third time, this one licking painfully around my upper thighs.
“That is good to hear, Colette. However, I think another dozen or so strokes should impart the lesson you truly deserve, so hold on tightly!”
Mademoiselle then set about me with a will, her little martinet swishing across my bottom from the left and from the right, sometimes high on my bottom, at other times striking across my fleshy thighs and straying between my legs. Oh, how I danced to the tune of that nasty little whip! And yet, as she continued the fire in my cheeks steadily spread to my loins. Involuntarily my rump started to rise to meet each stroke. I just couldn’t stop it, willingly offering itself for Mademoiselle’s attentions! Finally I was now beginning to understand Lucy’s strange behaviour. The pain was starting to convert into pleasurable sensations and I started to feel moisture dripping from my inner thigh.
As these sensations built, my whole body suddenly exploded as I felt an enormous surge of pleasure sweep through me and I let out a scream of pure ecstasy. Even though I was only 15 at the time, I wasn’t totally innocent and realised that I had just experienced my first ever orgasm! No wonder Lucy had been so grateful when I released her!
Aimee had stopped whipping me as soon as my orgasm had subsided and I felt her hand now caressing the contours of my now very warm bottom cheeks, whilst the other hand stroked my hair and neck, very gently and lovingly. It was such a beautiful gesture. I longed to hug and kiss her.
“Was that nice, ma chérie? Do you feel that you are now absolved from your sins?” inquired Aimee.
“Thank you Mademoiselle, yes I do feel a great sense of relief that I have paid for my behaviour towards your sister. And, as far as my spanking went, all I can say is that it was very painful, but also was very delicieuse in equal measure! Thank you so much,” I replied.
“That is good, Colette. Perhaps you now understand what happened to Lucy when you spanked her? I know that spanking is meant to be a punishment, but I have also come to realise that for some girls, like you and Lucy, spanking can also bring enormous pleasure! You two are, in some respects, very lucky! As for myself, I’ve never found being spanked remotely arousing, although I have to admit that I did rather enjoy spanking and whipping your lovely bottom!”
I was thrilled by her last comment and, perhaps rather inadvisably, said, “In that case Mademoiselle, I hope that I am very naughty again. I have fallen in love with the whip!”
“So there you have it, Willy, in all its salacious detail! Are you shocked?”
Willy sat there totally astonished by my account, but from the lustful gleam in his eyes, it was obvious that he had found the images I had managed to conjure up for him very arousing!
“Good lord, Colette. I had no idea of what you seem to have got up to at school. Why on earth didn’t you include those scenes in your first book? Many of our readers would have really drooled over such an account and our sales would have rocketed! We really must publish a new revised edition. It will be a scandalous sensation!” said Willy enthusiastically.
“Well, if you really think so, Willy, although there’s even more scandal that I haven’t yet related to you yet, although the phrase ‘scandalous sensation’ might prove rather weak to describe some of the ‘goings on’ in my little village school!
“Good God! There’s more? You must tell me, Colette. What other naughty mischief did you get up to?”
“Another time, my dear. I can’t have you getting too excited!”
It was Samantha’s turn for the tawse now. We waited for Charlotte to compose herself. Her sniffing ceased, the study seemed deadly silent after the cracking of supple leather on soft buttocks and its accompanying squeals.
I looked over to Samatha’s face. It was sullen, remorseful and resigned to its fate.
Shuffling, whimpering and movement followed. Charlotte gingerly lowered herself onto her seat, as Samantha bent over the flogging stool.
I raised her navy blue, knee length, pleated school skirt.
To reveal perfectly laundered, crisp, tightly stretched school panties. As I hooked my fingers deftly into the waistband my nose was only inches away. I could smell the fragrance of freshly washed cotton. I pulled them down and instantly my mind flashed to what sometimes seems a parralel dimension where my tongue buried deep into her dripping school girl cunt.
I forced my erotic daydream from my mind and stood, the tawse dangling menacingly from my hand as I surveyed my target. What a fine one it was.
I walked slowly, and somewhat cruelty around her so she would glimpse the instrument of punishment as it passed.
Instantly my mind returned to that other lusty world…
And in that sordid other world Samantha was about to take my rampant, shiny, purple headed glistening, pulsating cock into her mouth as Charlotte tawsed her bare bottom until I squirted into that guzzling orifice!
I reluctantly snapped out of it, and thrashed her extra hard, spitefully, because my dream was not true…
Fancy a pint? Come on then, let’s go to the village of Cumley Bottom, it is a typical English village from the days of yore, which carries its traditions into modern times. Set upon the dusty track by the village green, it is a ‘Mock Tudor’ building, adorned with flowers. The sign is a beautiful blushing bottom, freshly spanked, it swings on squeaky chains on a creaking oak bracket.
The serving wenches serve with their bare bottoms on show, and get smacks all day long, lovely smiling, pleasantly voiced girls, who love a good smack on the rump.
In the corner is Ma, a stout middle aged woman. Sat on a stool by her side at a piano, is Pa. she tells stories, spanking stories, he….just now and then….tinkles a little accompaniment.
There is always a rather rowdy, ribald crowd, with plump bare bottomed lasses on their knees giggling. The majority are plump older women, with ‘their girl’. We go and sit, she is about to start a tale….not verse, not poetry, but something akin to Chaucer, and his Canterbury tales.
You sit, I bring two mugs of ale, they call it the witch’s brew, bloody hell it is strong stuff!
A little tune is played, we sup our first gulp, look at the bottoms on show, and settle down for a blushing bottom tale of spanking…
She sits, legs open, her chin on her hand, elbow on knee. “Hello all, I think you’ll like this un!”
Now Penny of the parish committee was a woman of the world.
She prided herself on this view, and never minded a foible or two
Indeed she had some herself.
Her friend Natasha, known as Tasha, equally short of stature,
A pocket battleship, was a Norland Nanny.
One early morning fair, whilst out for a walk, Penny and Tasha strolled past the church. As oft they did when Tasha was home on leave.
A window was open in that small space known as the vestry. As they passed by an unmistakable sound emanated out, rooting them to the spot.
A sound known at once to generations.
And in this instance to Penny and Tasha for different reasons.
They heard the slap of hand on cheek, with rhythm and pace
It meant one thing.
A bare-spanking was in play
Someone was having their due, but who?
Now Tasha and Penny were torn, the two
By duty and desire. The duty of discretion , and the desire to find out whose
Bottom bare was in the air turning white to pink, perhaps to red
The voice on the air, it was familiar,
The ‘ows, ahs, gosh, that stings’
What added to the piquancy was Penny and Tasha’s response
Penny had been a spanking mum, a spanking wife as well,
No stranger herself to give and receive
It had been a while since she had turned anyone over her knee
Tasha had a memory, when just turned 18, bare in the air with grin on her face, came flooding back at once.
For Tasha a bottom bare was bliss, to give and receive was heaven
It was an irony, and a little sad, that Norland Nannies no longer spanked
Except in special cases. She’d even tried to have the class of spank re-formed. So girls could learn technique, if called.
At once and in unison, they both felt the tingle and the burn
They simply must look, but not be seen or they both might go over the knee of enthusiastic newbie, old-time Vicar. Mind you, thought Tasha naughtily, that might not be such a bad thing. Ladies of the PPC over a knee – it had a certain ring
Penny had a half-hearted attempt at dissuading them both: “Natasha, its wrong to take a peak at a private meeting, bottoms bare or not. If you insist, I’ll spank your bare to kingdom come…”
Tasha said “now Penny, you know you want to and as parish council member it is your business to know what’s what, which includes Vicar’s tendency –he is quite new. Call it parish practicalities, and by all means I’ll bend and bare for old fashioned justice when we are through…”
Now it so transpired that there was a bench below that window open
Being not too tall, both women stood on it and peered through.
And what a sight met their eyes. Vicar sat, trousers at knees, his own bare cheeks upon the chair wood (Tasha nodded in approval). Across his lap lay a bottom bare of sizable girth, and rounded cheek being turned white to pink with vigour and vim. In short he was giving it what for with a good deal of welly thrown in. But who was the owner of those bare acres? She could be heard, but face not seen.
At first, Penny thought, it could be Laywoman Lawson, known as Michelle – a very similar size and shape, but no, the voice was not quite right to be her.
Though Penny had a sudden urge to see Michelle in that state of grace and give her what for, as come-back for her slights and slurs.
No, it was not Michelle. Then she got it. The bottom bare its owner fair was Mrs F – she lived next door. Well, well, well. Matriarch of six herself, of Family Frobisher: a husband, two daughters, two sons, a nephew and a niece. She was no stranger to give and receive, that time honoured fashion of women and men.
Every week for many a year, Friday night to be exact, time of the Frobisher family spank. She would preside, magisterially, for all to see through kitchen window the panorama. Over her lap, hems, trousers and panties down, bottoms bare in the air receiving the benison of spanking palm, the household would go – including anyone else to hand. Now all right thinking followers of spank know the old saying that “all is fair when bottoms are bared and spankers are spanked, and all shall be well”. Mrs F followed this through. When she was done, her own cheeks were roasted and toasted in their turn, by the assembled company. It was quite a sight to see. Penny as neighbour had a first-class seat, over the garden fence.
The command in that voice, the size of the bare, Penny and Tasha were transfixed. Then clear as a bell Mrs F changed tack, from ‘ows!, ahs! ohs!, she then began to instruct.
As Vicar spanked she advised in clear stentorian tones: “now Vicar, dear, technique to use is outside in/alternate cheeks then up and down and right to left, then left to right across”. The Vicar complied, fell into a rhythm and the music of hand on bare cheek filled the air. You all know the drill.
The watching pair, by now quite frizzy, could hardly tear themselves away. By some instinct, Penny knew the scene before them was going to change. She motioned to Tasha, and they sat back down on the bench to catch their breath. Tasha whispered “wow, wee, that’s Mrs F from next door to you. I’m so impressed, she’s teaching her technique to Vicar – receiving what for!”.
Penny got a little cross said “will you be quiet or we’ll be caught and then we’ll see who gets it. I’ve a good mind to wallop you now, am in the mood, Lord knows. If I know Mrs F, tables are about to be turned, which we should watch – so your bottom bare can wait for a spectacle that’s rare – our Vicar is clearly a spanking giver, not receiver and he’s about to get it from Mrs F good and proper, if my name’s not Penny!”
Tasha just tingled a great deal more, and longed for her fingers to go and explore down in that place which sends you to space, but that could wait, and Mrs F’s own technique she just had to see. (A little plan formed in her head).
Sure enough a ringing instruction rang out, clear as a bell, which was their cue to resume their viewing position: “right, Vicar, I think you’ve covered the terrain. Now we change places and I show you how it’s done. Only fair when bottoms are bare that givers are also receivers”.
Well Vicar look startled but in the face of matronly will, he complied. It was indeed quite a scene. Mrs F pushed herself off the spanking lap, bottom bare red-pink all over – majestic and regal, plump and broad, Tasha thought, with possibly the deepest cleft she had ever in her young life seen. In that moment a plan was formed that before she left for Norland-land, she would pay a visit to that lap, if she could possibly afford. Tasha felt the juices flowing, and had to restrain from bursting in on that scene, crying “please, please, spank me!”
To business at hand. There happened to be a full-length mirror standing by, the Vicar was vain, but it served a purpose. Mrs F, whilst Vicar stood hard by, in more ways than one, Mrs F inspected the job done full-length: “not bad, Vicar, for a first go, you’ll learn in time how I like it done. And now, your turn. Over my lap my boy and right now, am in the mood for a thwacking show. Since I have had an empty nest, have only my husband to keep me in test, the occasional visitor and guest. Mind you, when the twins two doors down return from Uni, they come and get a term’s worth truly. It’s not quite the same to keep the zest. Which is where the plan to revive the tradition of spanking the choir comes in. Enough chat, my fire is back”.
She sat down on that vestry chair, creaking slightly under the weight of bare acre, which made Tasha giggle. Her freshly spanked cheeks on wood nestled. She was ready! Vicar went over, displaying a bare quite boyish but chunky, too much indulgence and not enough fasting. In looks both fore, and aft, Penny was reminded of Finn, husband and partner to Laywoman Lawson, who as it happened gave and received as Penny suspected (found out on a visit one night). A spanking husband and a spanking wife was quite the zeitgeist among the 40 somethings. Equal opportunities.
Well, that boyish bare which was ivory white soon started turning pink. As Mrs F spanked so she instructed, she just couldn’t help it: “now Vicar, its all about rhythm and flow, rhythm and flow, varying speed, altering pace, alternate cheeks. Raising the hand half-way – crash it down – the hand full way – wallop! – Now a flurry, now three, one on each cheek, one in the crease, a hammer hand, an open palm, now six hard to finish”.
Well what a tour de force. In minutes that man without his cloth had gone from white to deepest red. Tasha could hardly stop herself from blurting “hooray, well done!”. Now Vicar was a chap and it was evident that lying over the lap his nature-given ‘hood had grown somewhat. Mrs F had foreseen this and carefully placed it between her legs as she had spanked away – imagine the scene without difficulty – which of course had rubbed it. The delights of a spanking for a chap is that he can get pleasure at two ends, which has a result, put delicately. Now Mrs F knew all this – of course she did – being a woman of not just a few summers and a matriarch to boot. Which is why she firmly believed that a chap who submitted to the indignity should occasionally have his reward. She kept a flannel nearby, said whilst reviewing her own handiwork “don’t worry Vicar, I’ll mop up and all will be well with the world. She reached down and very discreetly tugged a bit more. For long experience of boys and men she knew ‘better in than out’. To ‘clear the gunwales’ was, she thought, in every respect a very healthy thing.
The effect on Vicar was as you’d expect – electric is the word. In his rather naïve point of view he had not quite connected, to hit a nail on the head as the women in this story no doubt would, spanking with the rather obvious something else. He got the message in spades. He bucked and weaved over that lap and when Mrs F both tugged and slapped, he went to heaven and back. This was so much better than solo flights, (though in time to come he would learn the delights of self-spank in shortage of another).
When all was calm they had a moment, spanker and spankee, Vicar and Mrs F. She said: “now Vicar, just one more thing, a matter of etiquette. When spanking is done, it is customary, in my line at least, to offer thanks. So this is how. Stay where you are in recumbent state, and reach round back and clasp my cheeks. Repeat after me: I give thanks to Aphrodite, the original mistress of the bottom bare spank. You are a worthy successor, may your days be long and your bottom loved”. This the Vicar did. The deed was done.
Now Tasha and Penny withdrew from the view, in fair old agitated state. Tasha needed to relieve herself in more than ways than one. Penny had an overwhelming desire to spank a bare. A naughty solution came to both:
“Now Penny, my dear”, said Tasha “I know I have been out of line as chum and deserve attentions to my bare bum. May I say, we’ve just had a masterclass in how it’s done from Mrs F, shall we set to?”
Penny said, “What, now and here? Tasha, darling girl, you’ve’ got a walloping coming your way, hell or high water, but what do you mean? I’m taking you home by the ear, to deal with your rear…”.
Tasha said, “Penny, now listen we’re both hot and bothered. No need to go far. This churchyard’s large, let’s find a grave stone and you can set to…”
An outraged Penny said “the very idea! What impertinence. That thought alone earns extra thwacks”. She thought again, and in her state assented to the plan. For she was so turned on another thought was forming in her mind. “Right my girl, you are one! I know the very spot. You, come with me!”.
And with that she took Tasha by the ear – it seemed right in the moment of these two without favour or fear, and down to the churchyard deep end they went. Penny was ready to give what for and Tasha was burning for that and more. Penny realised what she had chosen when they reached destination – a very large stone, broad as a table. The old rules of the spank, of give and receive meant one thing if not the other. She would have to sit bare upon that stone whilst dishing it out. “You wicked minx!” she blurted out “high jump is where you’ll be!”. Well, Tasha did laugh and in her state just knew what the dealing would have to be. “yes, old girl, what a prank. To spank me on cold stone. We’ll soon warm up, you and I”.
Now both Penny and Tasha were quite plump but in a very attractive way. To Penny’s description you could add a little dumpy, and Tasha chunky. It had been some time between spanks, and Tasha carried some extra weight. More to whack, Penny thought, upon that she was determined. The Norland ‘mufti’ of that season were red dungarees, the colour of the house. Penny wore her Saturday trews, which she would rather have kept on, but rules are rules and fair is fair when bottoms are bare and spankings dealt out. This she knew. Tasha, in suggestive mode which was bound to earn her extra slaps, said “let’s disrobe or otherwise unveil together”.
And so it came to pass, if you or I or another, could see that scene. Penny unbuckled and pushed down her trews, revealing de riguer pants from Raegar, diaphanous and black, which caused Tasha to let out a snort, “Gosh, they’re posh – got a new fella?”. This wisecrack landed like a lead balloon, which increased the ferocity of Penny’s ire. Without further ado, the time had come, down came the panties to reveal a bare bum of surprising grace and quite some style: large, broad, plump but quite in proportion to its owner’s frame. Tasha, for once that day, shut her mouth and admired the view, one she had not seen for a while. Penny’s custom hitherto was to defy the rule of ‘giver on bare cheeks’, but since Mrs F bravura performance, that had changed.
Now it was Tasha’s turn – her long-suffering spanker was getting impatient so she should complete the task , or else. Besides, it was getting a little cold. English graveyards are never warm. So, Tasha without much further ado, unbuttoned the dungarees. The flaps unflapped, hooks were unhooked and buttons undone, until at last the trews and panties came down (not Raeger but M&S) revealing a sight of total delight – a deeper-cheeked rear of width and girth. Penny gave out a cry of delight – “what an inheritance my dearest friend – your splendid bottom bare – which in time will no doubt be passed on to generations yet unborn”.
In due time, this joyous fact would be shared with parish ladies as they discussed the merits and joys of bottoms bare and spanking matters, over each other’s knee as it turned out, on Wednesday nights at Ladies Group. But that was for the near future. There and then, in real time, there was some proper action due.
Penny sat on very cold stone, at first a yelp and then a wriggle, then settled her cheeks in for the duration. Tasha draped over the matronly knee, Penny, though bursting at the seams to begin, stroked the target of her frustration and admiration – the magnificent moon of her pal. So recalling some of the lesson learnt from this morning’s tutorial show, she raised her hand above those cheeks and whapped it down as first shot in an opening salvo. The barrage went on and Tasha did shout out, most satisfactorily “ow!, Oh!, Ah!, aaah” and of course then added “that hurts!”. It is an old line but time-served.
To which Penny replied in her cosmic script “of course my sweet – it is meant to!”. And then she went on to pepper that terrain with wallops and blows as she had promised. She remembered the watchwords of Mrs F – rhythm and flow, rhythm and flow, inside out, alternate cheeks, up and down, left to right. Deep in the hearts of these bare-bottomed women a re-bonding was setting forth – each appreciating the other’s physique and being, both of the flesh and of the mind. Tasha’s bottom bare did go from white to pink and on to red. She bucked and weaved, weaved and bucked, yelled and screamed, with pleasure and pain, more in delight it must be said.
Well, another thing which Penny noticed, was not surprising in itself but she took with utmost discretion and tact, although she was feeling very like that herself – a wetness on the lap where Tasha’s weight was bearing. Her instinct was to ignore but note – Tasha would sort that on her own. Yet, she took it as a compliment that she and Tasha could share such things – a bottom bare, the natural juices, all so healthy – that a spanking sometimes produces when done as it should be – vigorously, as Mrs F would say.
Tasha meanwhile was lost in an ecstatic bliss – her bottom stung like crazy. When at last the business finished she asked her mentor a special favour which touched Penny to the core: “Gosh, your spanking hand is tip top shape these days. Are my cheeks red, they feel that way, but are behind so cannot see” :
“yes my dear, they certainly are, a sunset glow I must say – quite satisfactory on this day of major lessons and surprises!”.
“ o Penny! At times you sound so pompous!” which earned her another thwack “but could I do as Mrs F asked Vicar, and reach around to touch your cheeks, and invoke the Aphrodite prayer?”
Tasha reached round and grabbed those matronly ovals. Penny bucked in surprise at Tasha’s touch –she had large hands and it felt, well, grand, to coin an Irish phrase. They both invoked the prayer newly learned “ I give thanks to Aphrodite, the original mistress of bottom bare spank. You are a worthy successor, may your days be long and your bottom loved”. It was indeed a moment of bonding, through bare bottom spanking, woman to woman.
So Tasha over lap, bare in the air, in turn squeezing Penny’s cheeks. She then announced in a while, as all is fair and all is fine with Penny the same touching and patting the target fair, transfixed and with a far away look. Then came the realisastion and the announcement: “Time to swap places, o chum of mine. In three words, it’s my turn! So over my lap you go.” And so it was, and so she did. Give and receive.
Thanks to the church, the Lord above, Vicars and local matriarchs. And of course the mistress of Spank herself, Aphrodite of the Beautiful Bare Acre and Bottom Bare – who else?
Now I know you are going to be curious, be patient, all will be explained.
The Head Girl, Samantha, sat in the corner gazing intently at Charlotte bent over Mr Jones’s punishment stool. Finally she had managed to bring about Charlotte’s comeuppance. She had caught Charlotte bullying one of the younger girls in the dormitory just before lights out. Up until now Charlotte had been very clever and had managed to avoid detection for numerous ‘crimes’. However, Samantha had finally caught her in the act and had ‘nailed’ her. She had reported the incident to the headmaster, Mr Jones, and was instructed to bring Charlotte to his study after morning assembly the following day. He took instances of bullying very seriously.
On arrival, Mr Jones had asked Samantha to stay to act as a witness to Charlotte’s forthcoming punishment. Predictably Charlotte had tried to lie her way out of the punishment, but Mr Jones was having none of it. He trusted his head girl’s account of the affair and that was the end of it. She was firmly told that she had better own up, otherwise 12 strokes of his senior cane would be raised to 18 strokes. Charlotte rapidly capitulated, not wishing to run the risk of incurring extra strokes on top of what was already a severe punishment.
Mr Jones ordered her to bend over the punishment stool and requested Samantha to ‘prepare’ the ‘wretched girl’ for her caning. Samantha gladly complied, proceeding to slowly roll up Charlotte’s grey pleated school skirt over her back. As she did so, she whispered, “I’m going to enjoy watching your caning. I hope it hurts like hell. You deserve it.”
Charlotte muttered back under her breath, “You bitch!”
Ignoring the comment, Samantha asked Mr Jones loudly, “Shall I pull her knickers down, Mr Jones? I assume that you want to cane her on the bare?” She knew full well what the answer would be, as Mr Jones always caned pupils on the bare. However, it was her way of getting back at Charlotte.
‘“Yes please, Samantha. Thank you.
Samantha inserted her fingers in the waistband of Charlotte’s knickers and slowly drew them down over her pale unblemished white bottom, whispering again in Charlotte’s ear as she did so, “Your bottom is really going to smart when he gets going. Enjoy!”
This time Charlotte was too nervous to respond to Samantha’s taunt. She felt very vulnerable bent over the punishment stool with her now bared bottom presented beautifully. Her long slender legs stretched out behind her, with her white school knickers hanging limply around her ankles. ‘Oh, why had she been caught by that nasty bitch? This is going to hurt dreadfully. Twelve bloody strokes! I’ve never had more than four before,’ she thought.
“Thank you, Samantha. Now will you sit over there out of the way in the corner whilst I cane this young lady. I don’t want to hit you by mistake,” said Mr Jones.
Samantha reluctantly moved into the corner and sat down facing Charlotte’s head. She had hoped to be able to watch Charlotte’s caning from the other end. She would have loved to watch Charlotte’s naked buttocks being thrashed. It would be a real turn on to see her bottom squirming and writhing across the punishment stool, red wheals steadily blossoming across her cheeks as successive cane strokes landed across her quivering flesh.
Unfortunately that was not to be. Oh well, she would have to be content with watching Charlotte’s facial reactions and enjoy listening to the thrilling noise of the cane swishing down across the bitch’s rump and the resultant howls of pain. It was so annoying! Why couldn’t she stand at the other end of the room?
And then, Samantha saw something that she had never noticed before…a large free-standing mirror stood facing her at the other end of the room. ‘Gosh, this was a stroke of luck,’ she thought, as she realised that she could see Charlotte’s bottom clearly reflected in all its glorious pert rotundity! She would be able to witness Charlotte’s punishment after all from both ‘ends’!
Samantha was suddenly brought back from her reveries by the sound of Mr Jones swishing his cane through the air to loosen up his swing. She edged forward in her seat to ensure that she had a better view of Charlotte’s bottom in the mirror.
“Are you ready, Charlotte?” asked Mr Jones, tapping the cane across her bottom, making her cheeks visibly wobble.
“Yes, Sir…as ready as I ever will be!” replied Charlotte in a quavering voice.
Samantha held her breath as she watched the cane raised slowly over Mr Jones’s shoulder. It seemed to hover for ages before it suddenly came swooshing down and landed with a loud THWACK right across the meatiest portion of Charlotte’s bottom. Charlotte squealed as an horrendous stinging, burning sensation spread rapidly across her naked cheeks. Samantha’s eyes were riveted on the reflection of Charlotte’s buttocks. A white line left by the cane was steadily turning red and the muscles of her bottom cheeks were twitching involuntarily.
Samantha clasped her hands together, pushed them down between her legs, pressing into her crotch and she started to gently rock. As she was doing so, her gaze met Charlotte’s already teary eyes. She realised that Charlotte must know what she was doing, but what the heck. She was so turned on by being able to witness the caning, she had to indulge her urges, just so long as Mr Jones didn’t see what she was doing! Hopefully he was far too engrossed aiming his cane across Charlotte’s naked bottom to notice what she was doing, and Charlotte would soon have other things to focus on as she saw the cane rise again.
Swish, Thwack! The cane came down for a second time, eliciting a louder cry of pain from Charlotte, “Yeowwhhhh!”
Samantha eyes widened as she witnessed this second stroke whip into Charlotte’s rump, creating a second parallel red wheal just below the first. ‘Ummhh, this is so exciting. I can’t wait for the next,’ she thought, rocking away gently in her seat, her hands pressing ever more tightly into her crotch.
Swish, Thwack! “YEOW, FUCK! Oh my god, that hurt! Please, please Mr Jones, no more!” Charlotte yelled out as she started to rise from the punishment stool.
“How dare you swear and try to get up! Get back over the stool this instance, young lady. That’ll be an extra two strokes,” shouted Mr Jones. “Samantha, would you be so kind as to hold Charlotte down. I don’t think she’ll be able to stay in position for the remaining ten strokes without your assistance.”
‘Drat,’ thought Samantha. ‘I won’t be able to ‘indulge’ myself, but still orders are orders!’
Samantha stood up and pushed down on Charlotte’s shoulders, making sure that she was still able to see the reflection of Charlotte’s bottom in the mirror behind Mr Jones. This was a most interesting position to witness a caning, facing the headmaster and seeing the top of Charlotte’s bottom from virtually above, as well as the full view in the mirror beyond.
And so the caning proceeded, every stroke causing Charlotte to writhe around under Samantha’s tight grasp. Samantha drank in the sights and sounds, feeling the shock waves of each stroke spread through Charlotte’s body as she howled her loud protests.
Finally the caning ended, leaving Charlotte sobbing and lying limply loudly across the stool, a ‘heat haze’ shimmering just above her well-striped and reddened buttocks. Samantha loosened her grip on Charlotte’s shoulders and stood up, wishing that she could find some relief for her now very moist, pulsating pussy.
After a few minutes, Mr Jones instructed Charlotte to rise and dress herself. He then dismissed her and they both watched her slowly limp out of his study, gently rubbing her well caned bottom.
“That was very well done, Sir,” said Samantha, her eyes gleaning. “She deserved every single stroke you gave her. It was most exhilarating to watch!”
“Thank you for your assistance, Samantha,” responded Mr Jones.
Samantha hesitated and then blurted out before she fully realised what she was saying, “Please Sir, could you please cane me like you have just caned Charlotte. I need some release!”
Mr Jones looked slightly taken aback, but realised from years of experience that many girls were turned on by the whole idea of corporal punishment, both as witnesses and recipients. He had also observed Samantha’s antics rocking in the chair at the start of Charlotte’s caning.
“Certainly Samantha. If that is what you wish. Kindly raise your skirt, lower your knickers and get your naughty little bottom over that punishment stool NOW! Shall we start with a round dozen?”
“Yes please, Sir. That would be lovely!” replied Samantha eagerly.
“Would you like to watch yourself being caned? I could angle that mirror you have been looking at throughout Charlotte’s caning so that you see yourself.”
“Oh, yes please Sir. That would be most exciting!”
Having moved the mirror into position, Mr Jones picked up his cane and proceeded to give Samantha the thrashing of her life. Although she cried out and wriggled around on the stool, she stayed in place and didn’t beg him to stop. After 12 strokes, he asked if she had had enough, but she pleaded with him to continue.
After a further dozen strokes, he noticed through her open legs that her pussy had become very moist. Dropping the cane, he started to gently caress her well welted buttocks. She murmured pleasurable noises, as he let his hand stray between her legs. She pushed her bottom back at him, clearly willing him to pleasure her. What a wanton hussy his head girl was! Despite his full-on erection, his professional conscience wouldn’t allow him to go as far as he might otherwise have done. Instead, he inserted his finger into her well lubricated cunt and started to stimulate her erect clitoris. Every now and again he slapped her bottom with his other hand, to which she offered no objection, just emitting loud gasps of pleasure until finally she arched her back and let out a loud drawn out scream of orgasmic pleasure. She then slumped totally satiated over the stool, whilst Mr Jones retired exhausted to sit at his desk admiring his handiwork across Samantha’s bottom. Life as a headmaster was so demanding!
How the neighbours all around loved their spanking. The cheered every smack, and applauded at regular intervals if a girl jumped up clutching her bottom or let out an extra loud squeal.
The girls were jeered and mocked. As they looked out of their window with hot painful bottoms having what seemed like red hot shocks of pain from the slipper, they could see no sympathy at all. In fact, people were shouting for it to be harder, and not to stop.
And there Mummy left them, squirming and blushing for a full hour. Slowly people went back to what they were doing.
Three naughty sisters had learnt a lesson, one they would remember for a long time, because all the smirks and smiles of the neighbours would not let them forget.
Now, what about school?
Coming next….’Three Naughty Sisters at School’
And then, if I can arrange shoots with broad minded venues, ‘Three Naughty Sisters Day out at….’
If you live in Derbyshire, and have a farm, a windmill, a grand garden etc…contact me, and you can meet the girls at your venue.
It was no great surprise to see these two back again.
“Back again I see, so your sore bottoms did not act as much of a deterrent then? I can see I will have to try harder, by punishing them harder and longer, you naughty girls. It’s no good sat there looking forlorn! This is all of your own making!”
“yes…we are very sorry Sir.”
“You will be, trust me!”
“If you two naughty girls carry on as you are, you will end up over the vaulting horse you see before you, and that rather stout senior cane will be wrapping right around your bare buttocks! That is not an ambition to sim for, trust me…Charlotte, stand up and face the flogging stool.”
The word flogging is a good word to use in this situation, a spanking puts the thought of a bottom bouncing under a firm hand, but a flogging sound much more serious. She flinched at the word, and stood up to face the flogging stool.
I could see her knees shaking. I announced her fate. “Today young lady, you are going to receive six with the junior tawse. And keep this in mind dear girl, if you visit me again, it will be the thicker, stiffer, senior tawse you get, and twice as many. I have it on good authority that it hurts twice as much! Over you go, and grip the rail.”
The rail on the flogging stool is low down, so it naturally makes a girl lift her feet off the floor or stretch on tip toe. A delightful position to use for beating a pair of naughty buttocks! I lifted her skirt to reveal a pristine pair of white school knickers.
I knelt down to pull her knickers down to her ankles…
Oh my word, what a wonderful bottom she had, her plump firm cheeks stood high and proud to receive the tawse. I looked up, and the sight took my breath away and made my ramrod of a manhood rise and throb!
My mind wandered down ‘Pervie Lane’ to imagine I was flat on my back under the stool, and was to watch as Samantha knelt over me to part Charlotte’s legs and lick her out, as I wanked…
I forced my mind back to reality and stood to give her wriggling bare bottom, six, firm, well aimed whacks….and then concentrate on Samantha’s equally shapely bottom.