Category Archives: PHOTO STORIES

The Welcome Home

 

There is a young woman, named Samantha, who loves to act the role of a 1950’s style submissive housewife…

I am still working on the story, but all the photos are taken.

Let’s jump from fantasy to real life for a moment ….Samantha Alexander is a lovely broad minded, naughty young woman, but her Mummy follows her on Twitter, and so she does not want anything too naughty on there. We don’t want her Mummy spanking her do we?

YES YES YES…I know you do, I would love to see it myself.

But it is all about being a gentleman and respecting a friend’s wishes. So please do not copy and post any of these on Social Media.

A hot summers day sees Samantha come back from one of her modelling assignments, to her beautiful house.

I have noticed over the years that the warmer the weather, or a room, even in winter, the naughtier she gets. As she closed the door behind her she was glad to feel the coolness of her home.

It did nothing to cool her ardour. She was aroused.

Samantha projects her wonderful image to the world via her web sites, but in the privacy of her own home, she loves to behave like an obedient wife of the 1950’s, where a girl was spanked, often, when her husband decided she needed it.

Her mind began to wander, her maid Kate had left her home in a beautiful state, a long day at leisure beckoned…so do did her pussy. The crotch of her yoga pants were already developing a damp patch.

Aprons!

Maybe to you it is a strange thought to pop into her head. But to Samantha, they epitomised the devoted submissive wife of her favourite decade. Her idol in life was Marilyn Monroe, it was her who initially sparked her interest in the era. She saw a photo set of her once, wearring an apron and loved the way it showed her waist and legs off.

Close by to where she lived was An old Hall, and it’s illustrious owner in the 1950’s, was an unlikely friend of Marilyn.  To think that her favourite had trod the grass so close to where she lived, was one of the reasons she purchased the house.

From a local antique and collectible centre, she had accrued a little collection, and they were stored in a cupboard close by, she turned to go and look. Her house was quite immaculate, everything had a place, and Kate her maid had to keep everything in its place. Usually, she succeeded.

There they were, all freshly laundered, in a neat little pile. She took three out and took them to the table.

Where she decided which one to wear today. The black one with flowers.

She found it sexy, in a spanking way, to remain dressed on the top half, but to be bare under the apron. She got changed.

I think you will agree that the apron looked lovely, but in a way, spoilt a lovely view!

But not from the back, as you can see…

Here she is putting the other aprons away in the storage cabinet.

She started doing a few chores, not that many needed doing really, but she knew the postman was coming soon.

She liked to be seen you see. Always in a subtle way, she knew he watched, she knew he dropped his trousers and pants to have a good hard wank, but she never let him know, that she knew.

Across the way from her garden was a woman called Claudia, a busybody. She would constantly look from the windows of her house, for anything. She was the chairwoman of the local neighbourhood watch committee.

Looking over a wall, or hedge, into a garden was not unknown!

Over the past six months alone, she had reported Samantha to Mr Jones eight times. He was a professional disciplinarian who came to see Samantha now and then, to satisfy her need for a spanking.

He was much older than Samantha, and between them, they had led Claudia to believe he was a strict uncle. When Samantha went away, she told her to ring her Uncle if anything was amiss. The first time she rang him about two windows left open, he said she should be more careful and would spank her on her return home. Claudia feigned shock, but was delighted.

They made sure she could see when she was spanked, and sure enough they spotted her looking. Well, to be exact, Samantha did, as she looked up from her spanking. Since that day two things have happened…

Claudia became extra diligent in her duties.

and

Claudia began having the best orgasms of her life! Both as she watched the punishments, and as she thought of the punishments in her ‘alone time’.

As I said, Samantha started doing a few jobs in the kitchen, waiting for the gate to click, and then aim her bare bottom towards the kitchen window.

One of her many passions is baking, often trying to match a creation from her favourite T.V. Programme. She baked some muffins…

She did a few more little chores in the kitchen, the postman could have arrived ten minutes ago, or ten minutes from now. She knew he had a big…(now now!) …postal round to cover, and could not be precise in his calling time. She stood to smell the baking and waited.

She heard footsteps approaching…So, she dashed to the sink, and washed a cup. She saw the postman walk across her yard to the back door.

The postman pushed his Mail through the letter box and turned…he was not dissappointed, once again she put on a show.

Claudia pressed her nose to her window as he took hold of his throbbing manhood, let his trousers and pants fall to the floor and pull his loose foresking back and forth over his swollen head until hot creamy sperm shot onto the window to run down, sticky and steaming. It only took a minute, this is what he saw…

She waited until he was almost ready to shoot onto her window before she turned to bend over, it was at that moment she heard him groan, and a wet splat, splat, splat on the glass!

Why not do the same?

Expand the next photo, spurt on her window as she wiggles her naughty bare bottom for you! Can you see her looking at your throbbing desperate cock? 

Ooooh, was that nice Mr.Postman?

The timer on the cooker ‘tinged’ and Samantha got her buns out!

Now come on! You know very well I mean the buns in the oven!

And put them on a cooling rack on her ample worktop.

Claudia rang me to report her wayward neighbour, and I thanked her. I told her that if she looks out for me, she will see Samantha get a sound bare bottom spanking soon after my arrival.

As Samantha was surveying her lovely buns, I rang…

Her phone was docked and on speaker.

I told her that she had been reported for flashing her bare bottom to the postman whilst he masturbated looking through the window, and that she must be ready and in position for a damn good bare bottom spanking on my arrival at 5.00 that evening.

I  could not see her, we were not on face time like when she masturbates for me. But I could imagine her naughty face as she squirmed!

I told her to go and get in a spanking position now, because I was going to ring Claudia back and tell her, and she was sure to look. We both knew that Claudia would rub her pussy frantically as she did so.

Samantha took a bite of a bun, and then went, ‘to assume the position’.

I rang Claudia and told her. Two minutes later, her knickers were down as she sat by the window looking at Samantha presenting her bottom. “Oh young lady! You are going to get such a spanking!”

Samantha knew exactly how Claudia’s fingers would be frigging away on her dripping wet cunt, and wiggled her bottom, to help her orgasm!

She gave her what she thought would be enough time to orgasm, and moved on. That is when it began…

She was excited, Mr Jones was visiting. He was coming to punish her. It was what he did, either to fulfil a sexual fantasy, or a deep need to ease a guilty conscience of a girl with a spanking need.

He was a Professional Disciplinarian and had lots of clients, the vast majority female, aged between 25 and upwards, to around 50. She liked him, a lot. He was much older, which she wanted. A sort of father figure, a strict Uncle, or a Headmaster. He scared her a little, and took no nonsense. He punished a naughty girl as he saw fit, and the punishment only finished when he decided. There was no safe word. “What’s the point of a safe word? It is a punishment. The naughty girl has no say in the matter. You consent to that, in writing, or you look elsewhere.” Was what he had said. And she had signed on the ‘bottom line’. She was in his charge, she was in his care, and that was it…simple.

She began to walk around the house, putting herself in spanking positions and corner time. By the time he came she would be at the dizzy height of spanking arousal. He would know this of course, he knew all things spanking. That is why he sometimes positioned her at the corner of furniture, so she could push and rub to orgasm as he spanked. He even suggested having a corner of the table made special, by fastening a piece of red padded, rough textured, leather. For her pussy to rub hard on. Maybe even protruding a little, to fit between the legs.

“But people would ask!” She said.

“Exactly”, he replied.

She was thinking about it. 

First she placed herself in the position she would greet him in tonight.

Beginning to thrust, she was getting excited, but delayed her orgasm. “Now, now Samantha, delay it!” She told herself as she walked to stand with her back to the stairs. 

Images of past corner times began to drift through her mind…

So she put her hands on her head and stood on display, as she often had to under his instruction. Always ordered not to turn, and to stand in silence until told to move, and definitely no rubbing.

Although Mr Jones was not there, she could feel his eyes on her bottom. Often as she stood there she could hear him breath steadily, she wished she could hear him now.

But in another few hours he will be.

The clock in its old oak case ticked slowly. She felt a trickle of juice leave her pussy and run into the dimple of her upper inner thigh, nestled in her crutch. How on earth would she last until he came. The thought of her masturbation room came into her mind, and a slow journey towards it began.

In her apron pocket was a duster, she began to polish the bannister rail, her mind drifting to all the spankings she had had in her lovely home. 

She smiled to herself as she remembered a spanking on the stairs. He had gone up them and found the bannister sticky, she confessed to straggling it to masturbate and not wiping it. 

If asked, Samantha would admit to being an exhibitionist, and showing herself at the window was a passion. Mr Jones had punished her in the same places where she had done this, which of course she knew she would love.

Upon reaching the first window a particularly long painful spanking with a hairbrush came to mind. She recalled seeing Claudia with her binoculars!

How she pushed her bottom up for it, and how Claudia’s binoculars wobbled as her other hand busied itself in her wet bush.

Turning the corner of the stairwell she walked up to the landing. Here, more images of past spankings came to mind.

The sound of the slipper landing on her plump cheeks, the sound of my voice chastising her, and the deep sinking pain after the initial sting, flooded her mind.

Her masturbation room was down the hallway, she thought of going there next, but an imaginary voice called her into the next room, her bedroom. The voice belonged to one of her heroes, Marilyn Monroe. She fantasised about her. Lesbian fantasies of domination, submission and octane fuelled sex!

The voice told the naughty girl to enter.

At first she did not look at the picture on the wall, she imagined Marilyn looking at her, scrutinising her as she polished.

She imagined dropping the expensive ornament, maybe it could be an Oscar! She imagined Marilyn being so very cross.

“Samantha! You naughty girl! Pass me the cane!”

“Now bend over before your Mistress, assume the position!”

“Yes Mistress Marilyn.”

“Now get on the presentation chair, display yourself to me!”

 

 

After staying there for five minutes, she imagined Marilyn coming back, naked, with a huge ‘strap on’. “Get over the edge of the bed…you dirty little bitch! Beg me for this!”

“Fuck me Marilyn! Fuck me please!” She shouted to the empty house.

Imagine that if you will! Marilyn Monroe fucking Samantha Alexander with a huge strap on! After caning her! Hmm, fantasies don’t get much better than that for me! I need to have a wank!

Whew! Five minutes later, feeling relaxed, I will carry on for you!

…she left her bedroom, feeling moist and walked down the corridor to her masturbation room. Stopping at the mirror next to it, she looked at her reflection, smiled, and went in.

The bed in this room was soft and springy, she bounced up on to it and grabbed the headboard. Looking outside she could see other gardens. A couple had people in, and she could see movement behind one of Claudia’s curtains. “Does she never stop busybodying?”

She decided to give her something to look at….SMACK! She began to spank her own bottom! “I bet you wish you could spank me!” …smack, smack, smack!

The sound of the smacks, the sting, and the sensation, we’re all too much! She had to get her fingers in her wet pussy without delay!

She lay on the bed, opened her legs, lifted her apron and began playing with herself…

Oh God, her need was so great that a first pulse of orgasm twitched as soon as she caressed her erect clit. Her mounds were swollen. She slid fingers in, then rubbed, she was so excited, and so much in need, that she did not know what to do next…she just needed to cum!

“Ohhhh Mr Jones, I am such a naughty girl! Chastise me! Tell me I am naughty and need a spanking…ohhh fuck!….on my bare bottom! Yes, spank me Sir, please, oh fucking hell…ooooh!”

With her fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy, and the force of her palm sending delicious fucking pulsations through the whole of her groin, she orgasmed in a magnificent way…”Oh yes Mr.Jones, spank my bottom, punish me! I’m your naughty girl! Spank me…spank me! Yesssssss!”

The orgasm was so great, and her pumping up and down so exerting, that she felt as if she had just had a really good fuck. Her eyes drooped as she lay in that cosy room.

She was still asleep as I pulled up. As the gate did its usual solid ‘clunk’ her eyes opened. As I knocked on the stout porch door she realised it was me, and stirred. I have my own little melody for a knock.

I heard footsteps thundering down the stairs, so I knocked again for dramatic effect…louder.

I glanced up at Claudia, who had one hand on her binoculars and the other in her knickers. I could tell by the rhythm of the lenses.

 

 

more soon!…..be patient!…

 

 

 

 


Tamara, the making of a Domme

Tamara is in her sixth year, and is a very well respected girl at her school. Diligent, and dutiful in her work, as well as a fun loving friend to know, she was quite rightly a very popular girl.

At her time at school she had seen a lot of girls punished, quite often on the bare bottom over a teacher’s knee, man or woman, and very often bent over touching their toes or kneeling on some punishment furniture.

Ever since the day she first saw it happen, it intrigued and excited her. Many a night in bed, before sleep, would be spent with her fingers working in her warm, moist pussy as she imagined punishing another girl, or, more often, one of the boys from the school the other side of town. How she wished her school was mixed, instead of being all girls. She would love to see a naughty boy, bent over, pants down, squealing like a girl as some Master curled some rattan cane around his naughty cheeks.

It was well known that the boys school had much harder punishments too. Some in front of the whole school! The number of strokes was higher too, up to 24 strokes on the bare in extreme cases.

So it has to be said, that even in her formative years, spanking was in her mind. Nowadays in her adulthood, approaching her prime, she is an adored Domme, dealing with naughty boys and girls bottoms every day she can, as well as being a much sought after model.

How did she develop into this woman, from being an ‘A’ grade school girl with her fantasies.

Well sit down, rest a while, and let me tell you all about it…

It all all began on an April day. Miss Cooper had asked her to collect some photocopying she had done for Tamara, it was for a project she was doing on ‘the Tunnels of Welbeck Abbey’. She had left it in a locked study room for her to collect, and Mr G.Reece overheard.

He was a well respected member of staff, but a lot of the girls found him a little too much at times. He stood too close when in their personal space, when he was describing something on a one to be be basis. It made them feel a little uneasy.

The truth of the matter was that secretly, Mr Reece was very fond of young girls bottoms and using his phone, he had amassed quite a collection of ‘up skirt’ photographs of the sixth form girls over the years.

He took his opportunity , given inadvertently by Miss Cooper, and raced to the room in question to find the photo copying and hide it right at the back of the bottom drawer in a small cabinet. Every teacher had a master key for study rooms and detention rooms.

Then he waited in the room opposite for Tamara, who had gone to the janitors to pick up and sign the logbook for the key, to go in, and start searching for the papers

He walked in, stealthily and watched. He reached for his phone, his hand brushing by his erect manhood. The prospect of seeing this girls knickers excited him, he had been waiting for an opportunity for ages.

The right pocket of his trousers had a carefully made hole in, his manhood was thrusting and throbbing through, the pulsating purple head almost on view. He trapped his cock between his finger and thumb to give it a few quick strokes as he stood, being careful not to go by the point of no return.

Oh it felt so good stroking away, knowing the risk, knowing that she had no idea, he thought about speeding the stroking up, and coming in his palm, (he had pretended to catch a sneeze in his handkerchief on many an occasion) but just before the sensation began to move into ‘the zone’, he stopped.

He coughed, “Hello Tamara, what are you doing in here?”

“Oh I am just looking for some photocopying Miss Cooper left for me.”

“Oh right, I wondered why the door was open, last time she left something for me, it was in the bottom drawer.”

“Oh really? I’ll have a look.” She said as she reached over.

He moved in, phone at the ready.

Her skirt rode up to reveal her tight, white school knickers, stretched across the firm ripe cheeks of her plump bottom.

“Oh it’s that blasted drawer again Tamara, it seems to scrape papers right to the back if the drawer is full, push your hand right inside, try to reach to the back.”

“Okay Mr. Reece…uuuuuuurgh!”

Oh what a sight! It was the best he had ever seen, he moved in for the perfect shot.

Unfortunately for him, he had left the volume on his phone to an ‘outdoor setting’ the click of the sound like a camera shutter shouted out…’I am taking a photo of your bottom!”

Tamara spun around in a flash, literally, just as the phone camera flashed. He had his settings to ‘auto’ and bending down so far in the darker corner made his camera flash. Poor Mr Reece, known to his fellow teachers as Meticulous Reece had slipped up, simply because he had acted on the spur of the moment. He was flustered, he had never been so unprepared! Always…ALWAYS! He had carefully planned his shots. In an instant he could see his life, his reputation, and his sacred pension begin to crumble, before his eyes.

“Mr Reece! You are taking photos of my bum and knickers….you dirty beast!”

“I….I….was, er…..I …I….I” spluttered the panicking Mr.Reece.

“Pass me that phone!” Shouted Tamara.

He was like a spectator at his own downfall. The evidence was there before him, he knew she was to see it any second, but his feet were rooted to the spot, he was speechless, and frozen in time.

His chance of survival was gone, she moved in and saw herself there on the screen.

“That, Mr Reece, is my school knicker clad bottom! On your phone! Kindly tell me why it is there…hmmmm?”

“Furthermore Mr.Reece, I suspect there are many more! Come on, it’s too late now, show me! I think Mr.Jones our Headmaster will want to see this! And, the police! You are finished Mr.Reece, you disgusting man!”

Mr.Reece fell to his knees, to beg. Tamara was surprised and delighted. To have a man of Mr.Reeves stature begging for mercy, on his knees before her was like a switch being turned in her head. She loved the feeling, and joy spread across her face as the sniveling grovelling man said…

“Please, please Miss Kenworthy, don’t report me, do anything you like, anything at all, I will comply with any request, just don’t report me! I beg you, please Miss, please!”

“Okay Mr.Reece. I won’t. After school meet me in here, I will decide on your fate as the day goes by. AND REMEMBER…you said ANYTHING! Now leave!”

Mr Reece spent the next hour as happy, cheerful and courteous as he had felt for years. Nothing was to much trouble for anyone. What a relief. But as the school clocks ticked along in unison a feeling of foreboding settled on him. What would she do?

After school he went to the same room, and walked in, head bowed in shame. She was stood there looking powerful. He had never felt so submissive in his life.

She beckoned him with her crooked finger. He walked like a naughty boy might to his Mummy, to have his bottom spanked.

“You have been a naughty boy Mr.Reece, and naughty boys get their naughty little bottoms punished. Come here!”

His manhood rose, she watched the tip of his cock swell, and smiled.

“Here is what we are going to do. I have seen you in your tennis kit, and must say that you keep trim Mr.Reece. I have it on good authority that the boys across town have to come for the cane in their P.E. outfit. Go and put it on….NOW!”

He trotted down the corridor to the staff room and put it on, then jogged back. He got his breath back, and entered the room, whereupon she told him to lock the door.

“Come here you naughty boy!”

He stood before her, meekly.

“I am going to punish you hard Mr.Reece.”

“Yes Miss Kenworthy.”

“I think we will have those shorts off boy!”

Trembling fingers undid his shorts and he removed them for his young Mistress.

She told him to go to the stool and bent to pick his discarded shorts up.

She gently placed them on a desk and turned to survey her quivering prey. Her pussy began to throb excitedly, the anticipation was lovely.

The feeling of being in control of what up until now had been a person in authority was a new experience to her, and she liked it. “Underpants down Mr Reece, bare your bottom for me!”

He lowered them without question. He was old, but in good shape. How she wished she was a teacher at the boys school, ‘just imagine’ she thought, ‘having one of those loud mouthed young tear-aways baring their quivering bottoms for me.

Then her thoughts went through a miriad of scenarios, and surprisingly mature men, proper men, with responsible jobs grovelling before her thrilled her to the core. It was almost like a mild orgasm.

It was wonderful. She looked at his bottom, bare. She looked at him, trembling. She began to talk, and instinctively, she did it rather well.

“You are a very naughty boy Mr Reece, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Call me Miss.”

“Yes Miss.”

Being called Miss excited her more. “And what do naughty boys get? Hmmm?”

“Spanked bottoms Miss.”

“Yes they do! They get really red sore bottoms, which stops them sitting down for ages don’t they?”

“Yes Miss.”

“And you, are a very….naughty…boy!”

She leaned in close to him and shouted…”Aren’t You!!!” It scared him, and surprised him. Her voice was full of authority.

He almost squealed…”Yes, yes Miss! I’m a naughty boy!”

THIS STORY IS UNDER CONSTRUCTION HERE ON MY BLOG, BEFORE I TRANSFER IT TO MY SITE, FINISHED.

IT IS STRAIGHT OUT OF MY HEAD, AND WILL NEED EDITING. THINGS MIGHT CHANGE TOO, SO POP BY OFTEN!

The Masked Marauder

In a sleepy English town, called Highlikely all is not quite what it seems.

It is pretty without doubt, the people are happy living there, and care for the place they live in. All the usual things happen, summer fairs and fetes, grand Christmas Pantomimes and decorations, and the church oversees it all, under the guidance of Reverend Brown, who recently was bestowed a great honour.

As well as being the religious icon of the town, projecting an image of goodwill and heartfelt charity, he has just been given the honour of the Town Mayor.

Mrs Sidebottom was shocked, it was a two horse race she was desperate to win. It was a race that in all honesty the Reverend Brown would have been happy for her to win.

The truth is, she is a busybody, a very active member of the church, the font of all gossip, and… the leader of the church choir, which she runs like some sort of musical military boot camp!

One of the Nun’s at the local Catholic High School for Girls, Sister Samantha, has watched it all unfold with amusement. She helps with the choir, in fact, she helps with everything. To be exact about it, she is one of those people who hovers in the background making everything work, almost unnoticed. Apart from Reverend Brown, he does notice, and sister Samantha is glad he does, she likes him, and teaches his daughter.

To the village populous, and the church school, Sister Samantha has a warm and helpful reputation. But to any naughty girl at school, her reputation is of a strict disciplinarian. ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child.’ Were her by-words.

It has to be said, that Mrs Sidebottom produces excellent results. The choir is noted and respected, but other choirs say that there seems to be little in the way of fun. Many other choirs turn up to concerts and competitions doing modern songs, clapping and dancing even, often in costumes, and their choirs have beautiful names.

Where as the Highlikely Choir is quite staid and set in its ways, the Sidebottom way. Traditional in every way, ‘it was good enough for me as a girl!” Gertrude Sidebottom would always say, when asked for some sort of change.

This  mayoral election all happened two weeks ago, and Gertrude has accepted her defeat very well now. Things have got back to normal, and after all the talk of ‘who will be elected’ the townsfolk are back on their favourite topic…”who is the masked marauder?”

For a year or more people have fallen into traps, or been sent to somewhere nobody expected them, found their garden gnomes in odd places, and even had their front door locks glued up. Someone was having fun at other peoples expense, and the ‘other people’ did not like it!

Mrs Sidebottom in particular hated it all. And was on a mission, to find the culprit. You see, just before the election a crude drawing of her farting, as she leaned over in her chair was pinned to the church hall notice board, with words saying…’is this why she is called Miss Sidebottom…. Paaaaaarp!’

Ever since then she has eyed everyone with suspicion.

And things have got steadily worse. Silly drawings is one thing, but letting tyres down is silly and dangerous.

Having your milk and egg order changed from 2 pints and 6 eggs, to 20 pints and 6 dozen eggs causes inconvenience.

As for putting pretend notes of professed love through letterboxes to be found by angry wives or husband,well; that is beyond a joke!

Mrs Sidebottom kept a watchful eye at all times.

Sister Samantha had guiltily found it very funny indeed, and kept a copy of the drawing of Mrs Sidebottom letting rip, for her own amusement.

Reverend Brown had settled in to his new role, and quite liked the prospect of hosting functions, opening events and planting trees. Especially visits to schools, one in particular lay about a month ahead, the one his pride and joy went to.

Penelope Brown, his well behaved model of a daughter, went to Saint Lucy’s High School for Girls, she was Head Girl. Everyone looked to her as the girl they wished their daughter was like, or whom their son would eventually bring home as a girlfriend.

But one person was shrewd, and saw things other people didn’t. That was Sister Samantha, she could see right through Penelope’s ‘good little girl’ image, and instead she saw a scheming manipulative brat. Her right arm was itching to punish the girl on her bare bottom, severely! She would enjoy teaching her the error of her ways, but, until now, she had been elusive, and as slippery as an eel. Although she did not know for sure, she was almost certain that Penelope had got many a girl a bare bottom spanking or worse, the cane. She suspected that Penny, loved seeing them ‘get it’.

Sister Samantha was renowned as a ‘no nonsense’ disciplinarian. Reverend Brown knew this, and very often in his times of relaxation, imagined himself bent over before her, trousers down.

In the old Vicarage, Penny was busy doing her study, up in her room…allegedly!

Sat in her mask, looking in the mirror with an evil smile, she was plotting. Plotting the biggest embarrassment of Mrs Sidebottom’s life!

“Zee Masked Maraurder strikes again! They seek her here, they seek her there, but nobody is clever enough to catch zee elusive Masked Maraurder!” She laughed.

As  often happens in life, after a relatively quiet time socially, two things crop up on the same day. This happened to Penelope. The Summer Fete, and a concert by one of her favourite local boy bands, ‘The Fallen Angels’ were on the same day!

Because of his respected position in the community, Reverend Brown expected his dear daughter to once again show everyone just how lucky he was to have such a good girl, and told her to help the ladies on the cake stall, or look after the young children.

Penelope was devastated, but agreed happily. She knew she would think of a way out, or, to be more precise ‘The Masked Marauder’ would come up with a plan, and the plan she was plotting for Mrs Sidebottom would be perfect, just a few little adjustments and the Masked Maraurder might be able to go to the ball!

She was not going to miss the concert if she could possibly help it, it was even more exciting now, because she heard on the local radio that everyone was attending in white, and the lighting effects were going to make them all look fabulous. Not only that, but they were being filmed for the local T.V. Station. She could be on the Telly!

She imagined herself  as one of ‘The Fallen Angels’ …in a mask, of course!

At school the next day, four of her friends were off ill. A ‘bug’ was going around, people were being sick or having to run to the toilet urgently. She came home feeling a bit off it, and her Daddy told her to stay at home the next day. Her tummy ache never materialized into a full blown stomach upset, but the idea it gave her, developed into a wonderful plan, fitting into her idea she was already plotting for Mrs Sidebottom perfectly. The Masked Maraurder spent the day planning and plotting.

With a  well made plan, (developed over the day), in her mind, Lucy met two of her friends later, she felt sure they would accompany her to the concert and help her plan work.

She was so annoyed when she found out that they too were having to stay and help. One of them, Kate had been asked to help out in the crèche looking after the toddlers. Penny told them of her cunning plan, and asked them to help. She also revealed her identity to them, proudly showing them her mask!

They were thrilled to know the identity of the masked marauder!

The plan in Lucy’s mind was formulated to include recent events, namely the bout of tummy upsets! Her Daddy was prone to constipation, and had a good supply of laxative powders. Perhaps, if they volunteered to bake cakes, such as butterfly buns, muffins, and cup cakes. They could put laxative in the mix, the children would soon feel poorly and if they made sure some of the Mummy’s staying at the event ate some, then they would feel ill, and leave, taking the children with them. This way, at least one member of almost every family would feel ill.  News would spread, and the cake store, along with the crèche would have to be closed to stop the outbreak spreading.

Charlotte and Kate thought it brilliant, they all hugged. They were ‘going to the concert’ after all!!!

Later that evening Sister Samantha was dusting the pews of the church, talking to her favourite man, the Reverend Brown.

In walked the three girls, asking the Reverend if they could bake cakes together for the stalls.

Daddy was so proud of his daughter and friends, and agreed, singing their virtues to Sister Samantha, who smiled politely and thanked the girls.

It was at this moment that the first error of ‘The Masked Maraurder’ and her accomplishes occurred, it was down to Charlotte, who inadvertently dropped one of the concert flyers. It fluttered to the floor as they turned to leave, following Reverend Brown and his ‘oh so perfect’ daughter.

This was the moment the plan, in its infancy….SHATTERED…

Sister Samantha picked it up, and immediately saw the date, the same date as the Church Fete. She saw it as divine intervention, it was time to unmask the naughty girl in the mask, and reveal her identity, and bare bottom, to all. All she had to do was wait, and watch. As sure as God made little green apples, these three girls would be found out and punished.

She watched them leave, enjoying seeing them so happy. ‘Ignorance is bliss girls, off you go, dig yourself a very deep hole and walk right into it!”

The girls had great fun as they happily ‘baked’ their plan one evening, a couple of days before the Church Fete.

Penny took care of adding the secret ingredient. She emptied four sachets into each mix. The cup cakes, muffins, and butterfly buns were armed and dangerous! All ready to deliver to the home of Mrs.Sidebottom in the morning.

The next morning came and the cakes and pastries were all delivered to the church hall, Sister Samantha and Mrs Sidebottom were as usual at the hub of things, directing people here and there. When Mrs Sidebottom took the cakes, she immediately ate two, and another secretly, saying  that the cakes could not have come at a better time, she was starving, and her tummy empty, because she had been so busy.

The day was hot and sunny, and it was soon obvious that things like ice cream and strawberries and fresh cream, along with cold drinks were going to be most popular. Their plan began to fail.

Some other girls from school came along to the fete, all dressed in white, happily telling everyone, especially Penny, that they were off to the concert. Penny was seething, and quickly came up with a plan to spoil things, by shouting happily, (to disguise her anger) ‘Hey girls, I wish I was going too, but I have to stop here, why not take some of these with you, for your tea, they are not selling too well and the heat will affect them soon.’

The girls took them, and all said how well she had taken not being able to go to the concert.

Sister Samantha as usual took everything in, observing. She was pleased to see Penny being so grown up. Maybe she was not as bad as she thought.

The afternoon, and early evening rolled on and her cakes were still hardly touched, but then people started to feel like tea and cake instead of strawberries and ice cream, as the day turned just a little cooler. Although it was to late for the concert, she could ‘get even’ and the ones she targeted were the members of the choir, starting with Mrs Sidebottom.

“Hello Mrs Sidebottom, my cakes were not wanted much with the hot weather so I am giving them away, would you like a couple?”

Mrs Sidebottom could not turn down such an offer, her appetite had returned a little. She shouted the others over and between them had quite a little feast, complimenting Penny on her baking skills and her good nature.

Sister Samantha was close by, and looked on with interest and curiosity.

The evening choir concert began, and with great style. Penny, sat with Kate and Charlotte, watched with her camera phones at the ready. Soon she saw Mrs Sidebottom begin to struggle, then rapidly lose control, having to run from the stage, red faced as loud long lasting farts issued forth!

Penny and her friends almost thought that this was better than the concert they really wanted to see, and rolled about laughing and pointing.

Sister Samantha saw this and it did not take her long to figure out what had happened. She made it her mission to follow the girls especially Penelope, as often as she could, to prove they were so naughty.

She did not have to wait long at all. Next morning she went to visit Mrs Sidebottom, and found out that nearly all the choir had been violently ill, all dashing to the toilet every few minutes to evacuate their bowels.

Providence struck, the Reverend Brown asked his daughter to also go and see Mrs Sidebottom and to take flowers, along with the remaining cakes.

Sister Samantha told Mrs Sidebottom of her suspicions and when Penny arrived, asked if she could stay to listen, and then on Penny’s departure, she would follow her. Mrs Sidebottom agreed, and a suitable hiding place for Sister Samantha was found.

Penelope came in looking and sounding like a sympathetic concerned visitor, with a pretty bunch of flowers. “Oh my Daddy told me of your illness, and I was so pleased he asked me to come and see you, how ghastly it sounds and quite a few others are poorly too I understand.”

Sister Samantha stood still listening and shaking her head in disbelief.

“Let me put these in some water Mrs Sidebottom, shall I make you anything?”

She asked for a cup of tea and maybe an arrowroot biscuit, which her father ways said was good for an upset bowel or tummy. “You’ll find them in the pantry!”

Penny went into the kitchen, and both Mrs Sidebottom and Sister Samantha followed. They suspected she might do something to the drink, but what transpired was worse and could not have worked better.

There was a wash basket full of clothes, and on the top were a pair of Mrs.Sidebottoms rather large knickers! Penny put the kettle on and as she waited, she spotted them. To say she found them amusing would be a great understatement! She put them on the table and took photos, then, as she reached for the biscuits she saw a packet of chocolate ones. She took one out and smeared chocolate on the seat of the pants, to make it look like Mrs.Sidebottom had had an accident.

She rolled them up, and sent some pictures to her two co-conspirators. Messages flew back and forth, Penny giggling, and her two friends laughing uproariously.

She was about to mash the tea when Sister Samantha and Mrs Sidebottom walked to stand behind her and coughed. “Pass that phone over young lady! And my knickers!” Said Mrs.Sidebottom loudly.

Penny stood in shock, caught, and with the evidence in her hands. It was worse (or better!) than what the two ladies thought, because evidence of all her previous pranks were there to be found.

The phone and knickers were snatched from her grasp.

“Right madam, send a message to your two friends to meet you at the church hall, now!”

Penny was in a panic, she knew the game was up and did exactly what was asked, hoping in some way, that obeying meekly, might save her.

Sister Samantha marched the poor girl, crying, all the way to the curch hall.

Within ten minutes, all were assembled. The three girls stood shame faced and crying, both of Penny’s friends saying it was all Penny’s idea. Which of course she could not deny, the evidence on the phone proved everything.

Sister Samantha suggested dealing with this like the school would, with corporal punishment, pointing out what the bible says about ‘sparing the rod spoils the child’.

Penny was told to stand and wait for the cane, the other two were told to expect a hard prolonged, bare bottom spanking apiece!

The two girls begged not to be spanked, and Penny laughed. This was noted by the girls, who were wishing they had never joined in her silly ideas!

Without further ado, both girls went over their knees and were soundly spanked.

Once again the girls could hear Penny giggling at their plight, they both began to despise her, and decided there and then not to be her friend any more.

It has to be said that the girls took it badly and with great fuss! Kicking, squealing out …sorry! Sorry! Smacks echoed around the room for ten minutes, mixed in with the regular laughing of Penny.

The girls at that moment hated her. Red hot searing pain in the cheeks, and all she could do was laugh, as they kicked and wriggled!

It was noted by everyone. Not just the girls.

Their spankings came to an end and both were told to stand before the fireplace.

Then to Penny’s dismay, Sister Samantha pulled out a cane. “I think a jolly good thrashing on Penny’s bare bottom is needed, and you two can take photos and post them to everyone! Just like she has done to everyone in the village! She laughed at you the whole way through your spankings, so you two have our permission to exact your revenge!”

“Nooooo noooo, not photos…. Noooooooooooo!!!”

The girls ridiculed her, and begged Sister Samantha and Mrs Sidebottom to punish her as hard as they could.

“Oh we intend to, she will not sit down for a week! Now bare your naughty bottom for a trashing young lady!” Said Sister Samantha.

Penny was then made to present her bare bottom and received the promised 36 hard strokes on the bare,  twenty four for the offence, and twelve more were added for being so spiteful to her ‘friends’.

How the girls laughed when they heard the sentence passed.

And how they ridiculed her hopping and screaming at every searing, swishing, cutting stroke!

Penelope was made to kneel on an arm chair at first, her bare bottom poking out, which the girls loved and laughed at.

The severity of the violent swishing strokes surprised and shocked them, at first. So too did Penelope’s squeals!

‘Yeeeeeeooooooooowwwwwoooooooohhhhhhh! I’m sorry girls, I’m…”

swiiiiiish, crack!

“Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhowwwwwwwowwwww!!!!”

Then she was made to bend over the chair as they took it in turns to thrash her hard.

Then, in the traditional naught bare bottomed schoolgirl pose she stood bent over.

The girls made comments, and giggled at her plight the whole way through her painful experience.

“Oh we are going to watch you get it good and hard Penny!”

“Yes, we are going to watch you jump and dance, and laugh at you as you do so, for being so spiteful with us!”

Imagine how it feels for naughty Penny, her secret out, her bottom bare and being thrashed. Knowing that photos of her caned bare bottom will be all over the village! Jumping and squealing in extreme pain, but no sympathy, no escape, just ridicule…the more it hurts, the more discomfort she shows, the harder they cane and the more they laugh!!

Even after the caning, they allowed the girls to study the cane marks close up!

“Right girls,come along, have a good look in close up what a naughty sobbing little girls thrashed bottom looks like! And remember to take a photo, and tell all your friends how badly she took it…squealing, hopping, and begging for it to stop.”

“Oh yes Miss, thank you Miss. Look at that stripe! look at this one!”

Each with a painful prod….”owwwwwwwww! Oooooooooooooh!”

Soon photos appeared everywhere, notice boards, bus stops, and school windows.

Penny learned her lesson!

THE END

The Unusual Punishment of a Naughty Victorian Maid

The girl had become somewhat lax in her duties, and her Mistress had decided that at the next sign of her lackadaisical ways she would take action. She had watched her closely, and knew that the dreamy girl often rested in the study.

She understood that being a maid was a busy job, but she knew that the girl was taking liberties. She needed reining in.

Mistress found her asleep on a chaise lounge, when she should have been beeswaxing the wood in the room. Lady Kenworthy seized her opportunity and pulled out her riding crop from behind her back. “Caught you!”

The girl, still half asleep was taken aback, and stood up quickly.

Lady Kenworthy briskly pulled the little rocking horse, which was hers as a young girl, out from the place it stood, often with an aspidistra on top. It had great sentimental value, and an erotic past.

You see, it was on this little horse at a tender age, that Lady Kenworthy discovered the delights of rocking back and forth on it with a little extra pressure on her pussy. Indeed, her first orgasm was achieved on it, and her second third and fourth on the same day!

This punishment was not an impulsive action on the part of Lady Kenworthy, she had thought long and hard over the last few weeks, and fantasised about spanking her maid to orgasm on it!

“imagine that!” She thought to herself, and last night had achieved the climax of self arousal thinking about what was quite possibly going to happen, right now.

“Right young lady! (The maid was only three years younger than her Mistress, but such was the way of things in 1874) ….You have a choice. You can either accept corporal punishment, on my beloved Neddy here, or leave. But one thing is for sure, you are not going to carry on in this ‘come day go day’ manner any longer! What is it to be? Hmmmm??”

The girl said she did not want to leave.

And so she began to straddle the little horse.

“Lift your uniform and petticoats, I want that bottom bare!”

‘….awwww, yes, yes Mistress.’

Holding her under garments up, Mistress began to lower the girl’s bloomers.

To bare a fine plump victorian rump, just ripe for a thrashing!

The sight of those soft round globes of delicate flesh aroused Lady Kenworthy, and she spanked the girl.

Then, pushing the girl down, she told her to rock, as she whacked the crop on her fine buttocks repeatedly. The girl galloped like she was on a country chase!

Soon, Lady Kenworthy was swinging the crop with all her might!

The girl squealed and bucked, her back pressing against the moist excited pussy of her Mistress, whilst her own dripping wet slit pushed hard on to the now warm smooth mahogany horse. Rocking violently beneath her.

Both reached a shuddering orgasm together. And the horse slowed to a trot.

Both knew without doubt that the other had climaxed.

As Lady Kenworthy stood, she knew she had to stamp her authority over her girl quickly….

“I have not finished with you yet, pull your bloomers up, and get over my knee, right now!”

The crop was viscious in its landing on the rump of her maid, as her fine bottom pushed through the open back bloomers.

A lesson was learned by both.

Naughty behaviour has its rewards….a magnificent orgasm!

The girl developed into an extremely naughty maid, and Mistress was so pleased!

 

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

The Girl’s on the Stool (a collection of short stories based around the high stool)


 

 

NUMBER ONE

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!

There will be other girls coming to the stool, be patient!

A Managerie of Naughty Girls – a series of short stories.

Some naughty girls need their own accounts of their time at my school.

Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls.

Please, come and meet some…a selection of naughty school girl stories.

Here is the first…

THIS IS PART TWO, EVENTUALLY A CHAPTER IN THE FULL ILLUSTRATED NOVEL…

SAINT HELENA HIGH SCHOOL FOR WAYWARD GIRLS

This is a girl who is rather posh, and delightful to know. Always dressed well, polite, and hard working. But of late, a little naughty. I will not detail the naughtiness, I leave that to bigger stories, just be aware that she has been misbehaving a lot lately, back chat, lateness, no homework, that sort of thing.

When she first arrived at Saint Helena she had a rebellious mind. I think it was peer pressure. She was a privileged girl who wanted to show the less fortunate that she was no goody-goody. She targeted local council buildings with graffiti, claiming all sorts of persecutions were happening against the local populous. Seventy three offences! Three appearances in Juvenile Court.

It seems she is going through a second phase, a lot do. A spanking or two usually sorts them out.

The school Psychologist says it is a basic need in a punished girl. Like a Catholic girl going to confession. Putting it simple, they need a spanking! The weight of guilt lifted off their shoulders after their admission spanking is such a wonderful thing. They have atoned! They do not have to worry any more about being different.

Alas for them, they soon realise ‘being different’ is what they are! Some girls just need a regular spanking to keep them on the right track.

She came to the punishment room on report, we use a merit/de-merit system, her score this term has led to this.

“Hello Charlotte, I am disappointed to see you here, your standards are slipping. I think half a dozen whacks on your bare bottom with a plimsoll is what you need my girl! Sit at this desk and do one hundred lines, ‘I must improve my general performance’, when done, I will punish you!”

She sat quietly and did her lines. Then I spoke in a less friendly tone.

“Stand up, out to the front girl!”

She reached the front. ” Stand up straight, shoulders back, arms by your side. You are a naughty girl! What are you?”

‘A naughty girl Miss Kenworthy.”

“And what do naughty girls get?”

‘A spanking on their bare bottom Miss Kenworthy.’

“Very good. Blazer up, skirt up!”

“Yes Miss.”

“Knickers off!”

She faltered at these words, girls realise at this stage that their bottom and private parts will be on show, and I will know what they look like, and every time they pass me, they will blush.

She did as she was told. If she did not, I would cane her, hard, all the girls know this.

“Bend over, either touch the floor, you toes, or grip your ankles!”

She began to tremble quite a lot, but presented her bottom well.

I picked up my plimsol and gave her three smart thwacks on each cheek.

whack….owwwwww!

whack….oooooooooh!

whack….awww…ooow!

whack….Ohhh God! Ohhhh….ooh!

“Don’t use the Lord’s name in such a way Girl!”

“Awww..ohhhh sorry Miss Kenworthy.”

I gave her a minute to compose herself. “The last ones are always the hardest! Brace yourself!”

She did.

THWAAAACK!!! THWAAAACK!!

She jumped up squealing and clutching her bottom. ‘Oooooh owwwww, oww owww ooooh!”

“Now stop making so much fuss you silly girl. There are six third years coming here in ten minutes, stand in the corner, your naughty bottom bare for all to see, and contemplate what has just happened. I hope this has taught you a lesson young lady!”

She stood in the corner quietly, sniffing.

The third years came in, I did not stop them giggling!

I made her stay there for fifteen minutes more. Then dismissed her.

She ran from the room, pulling her knickers up crying in shame and embarrassment.

What happened next was not at all uncommon. Getting spanked and humiliated at school is the first step on many a girls journey to becoming a true submissive. I instinctively knew this when I saw her face when she came back less than a month later. I asked her form teacher to send her to the punishment room on Friday afternoon at 2 o’clock.

I had four fourth years sat writing a seven page essay on something incredibly boring. They had all had three strokes of the cane on their writing hand and we’re finding it difficult. When Charlotte knocked on the door and entered after being told to do so, just for a second, her face showed delight. “Yes!” I thought. “I knew you were.”

I confess that I loved knowing, there were a lot in the school, and I enjoyed punishing them the most. Not that any of them suspected, I was professional at all times.

“Pens down, hands on laps. You are to witness the spanking of a very naughty girl! Go straight to the front Charlotte, stand near the stool and face the left hand wall. Stare at the wall, and tell it what you are, and what you deserve!”

She faced the wall, and spoke to it. “I am a very naughty girl and deserve a bare bottom spanking Miss Kenworthy.”

The room burst into laughter.

“Quiet!”

Instantly silence fell.

“Bare your bottom!”

Shuffles in seats betrayed the interest the girls took in the performance.

“Stand up girls, I am giving her twelve good whacks with my hand, I want you to all to count them. That includes you Charlotte! So, it will be One Miss Kenworthy, Two Miss Kenworthy and on, until we get to twelve. If your performance is not loud and clear, you will all get six with the ruler!”

They stood facing the bare bottom of Charlotte.

Loud and clear, like the school choir they shouted out in unison.

‘One Miss Kenworthy ….Two Miss Kenworthy …Three Miss Kenworthy ‘..until the end…

There were classrooms to each side, I knew they were both full. The sound of the chanting girls, the crisp well delivered smacks, and the wails and screams of Charlotte would carry.

I rotated the timetable so that every class used the two adjoining rooms at least three times a week. It was a marvellous way of letting the naughty girls that discipline was being maintained.

I put Charlotte in the corner again, near an open window. The classrooms were instructed to leave the nearest windows open…her sobs would be heard. Like my voice….”No rubbing Charlotte!”

I heard giggles filter back through the window, and a voice shout, ‘…and that’s not just your bottom Charlotte’ which was followed by loud guffaws of mirth. The school was packed full of the naughtiest girls imaginable, but they were a jolly bunch.

I smiled.

I remember very well that after the day of this punishment I masturbated very hard, thinking of Charlotte’s bottom and the ways I could punish it. I had spoken at length to Mr Jones about this exotic creature and what seemed to be a need to be punishe. We agreed that here was a girl developing into a submissive.

I decided then, that one day, she would become MY submissive.more to come!

As I lay fingering my pussy that night, these are the images I saw…

As my orgasms gathered pace and intensity, images of her in different positions flew through my wild mind!

She began to fill my mind,  I needed to punisher as often as I could,.

in as many ways I could.

more soon… She will be back! See you soon Charlotte!

Here is the next one, enjoy!

One of the girls who got punished the most was Lucy, she wasn’t the naughtiest, she would never steal, bully, do damage or be peevish. But she was an annoying little brat! Cheeky, quick with a sarcastic comment, challenging, defiant and always thought she was right!

One day Miss Kenworthy got so annoyed with her constant answering back and cheek that she lost her temper and made all the class stand at the back of the room, whilst she thrashed Lucy’s bare bottom with a plimsol!

She made her get over a stool and told all the class she was going to make an example of her. She whacked and whacked her bottom full force with the thick rubber soled plimsol for a good five minutes. The whacks echoed around the room.

Lucy tried her hardest not to make a fuss, but by the end she was crying, squealing and begging for mercy!

Miss Kenworthy bent over and told her that next time it would be the tawse!

All the girls had a crush on Miss Kenworthy after that.

Lucy could not sit down for the rest of the day, and how the girls giggled and tormented her.

But it made little or no difference to the troublesome little minx. In fact, it became a challenge, almost a battle of wits between a formidable, beautiful disciplinarian and a brat.

As we spanking aficionados know, there could be only one winner.

Just one week to the day, in the same lesson on the weekly timeable, the brat and Miss Kenworthy faced each other again. Like some kind of duel on a dusty street in some old Wild West town, they eyed each other as they walked into class. Miss Kenworthy full of menace and serious. Lucy full of brash bravado, showing off to her friends. Which she continued to do for another fifteen minutes, constantly being told to behave.

As the class went on, the room became full of atmosphere. Then at 2 o’clock Miss Kenworthy walked to her tan leather briefcase and withdrew a Tawse.

“I am warning you Lucy. Do not test me any further.”

The radiators gently hummed as the hot water ran through the cast iron pipes. The old oak clock ticked away. Rain and hail pelted the high windows.

Lucy sat arms folded, doing nothing.

When asked why, she became rude and arrogant. She overstepped the mark, deliberately. “I am fed up, I’m not absolutely sure you know this subject well enough to teach it.”

She expected Miss Kenworthy to explode, but instead a calmness fell upon her. “Everyone back to the walls like last week please. You young lady have been impertinent and very offensive to my professional reputation. I do know the subject. This will not develop into a discussion Lucy. I am going to give you twelve with the tawse. Out here now! Bare your bottom, and bend over the stool.”

Out came Lucy, she smiled to the class. They could not decide wether to admire her, or think her stupid. But every one of the twenty two girls stood watching, was glad she was ‘getting it’ again.

Some through contempt, some through desire, some simply because they wanted to see a bottom get the tawse.

As she bent over, every girl stared at her beautiful bare bottom. They all agreed on this. It was indeed, soft and beautifully shaped.

Then the thrashing began. The leather cracked like a pistol, as Lucy’s cheeks wobbled. She held her position as Miss Kenworthy let her have it without any mercy.

Miss Kenworthy looked to the pale faced onlookers, the severity of the thrashing had made some feel queasy. They all lowered their eyes as she looked at them.

She circled Lucy about five times, listening to her wimper and looking at the red swellings rise.

“Class dismissed. Up you get Lucy. Off you go.”

Miss Kenworthy was being very clever, using few words and keeping things simple. Lucy began to feel a little unsettled. All the other teachers would have ranted and raved by now, but this woman, this beautiful dominant woman full of authority was the opposite, calm and collected. Like a snake.

Another week passed, and another, and another, each week getting slowly more and more extreme. Miss Kenworthy grew to admire the girls resilience, and in return, Lucy almost fell in love with this Godess of Discipline.

There was only one route for this to take. THE CANE!!!

First of all the traditional ‘crook’ handled school cane.

It started with twelve of the best.

Then eighteen.

Then twenty four.

Yet still the battle went on, and end of term, the time for Lucy to leave, was approaching.

This girl needed bringing to her knees, and beyond, so Miss Kenworthy hung up the traditional rattan, and purchased a dragon cane. A girl only had to look at the swaying flexible weapon of bottom destruction to feel pain. It was a terrifying disciplinary tool.

But finally it got the result, it bought her to her knees, squealing at the top of her voice, saying sorry! At last.

Did it end there? No!

Miss Kenworthy decided on some private humiliation for Lucy.

enter…. The Head girl

This is the next story, (or part two of this) another chapter for Saint Helena.

The Head Girl of Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls was a well presented young lady, very polite and correctly spoken.

She was loved by the staff, and mistrusted by the girls. She was a teacher’s pet, who told tales and delighted in seeing a naughty girl get punished before he, especially if she had reported her. Which was very often the case.

Soon after Lucy had ‘bent the knee’ the Head Girl reported her to Miss Kenworthy for taking items from the stationery cupboard, and suggested that in her opinion, it could well be her who has been stealing jewelry from coat pockets in the changing rooms.

Over the years a rumour had grown and grown amongst the schoolgirls. It was that sometimes, just to see them spanked, she would make a story up about them.

Lucy accused her of lying when confronted by Miss Kenworthy.

However Miss Kenworthy would hear nothing of it. “I trust our Head Girl implicitly, how dare you accuse her of lying! She is above reproach. For that, I am going to punish you before her!”

The Head Girl began to cry…”I am only doing my best to keep naughty horrid girls like Lucy in line Miss….sniff, and she says I am lying, it is so unfair, I’m a good girl, I don’t lie….sob, sniff.”

“I know you are a good girl, now you apologise to your superior Lucy!”

“Apologise to that lying, two faced toe rag! No way! She should be bending over for me!”

“Lucy!! Shut up! Ohhh you have done it now you disgraceful girl!”

“We will begin with a bare bottom spanking, get over my knee young lady!”

The Head Girl dried her tears, and sat at the desk.

Miss Kenworthy turned to the Head Girl, “Would you pass me the hairbrush, it is just behind you on the desk.”

“Of course Miss, anything to help.” Replied a delighted Head Girl.

She then witnessed the spectacle of Miss Kenworthy in full merciless flow with a heavy hairbrush on tender young flesh.

“Oh bravo Miss Kenworthy! That is just what a naughty girl needs! You are magnificent!”

This encouraged Miss Kenworthy to give ten more! Lucy could not resist any longer and through the pain screamed “You lying bitch, I fucking hate you! This should be you!”

The room went quiet, apart from heavy breathing and sobbing. “Right!” Said Miss Kenworthy menacingly.

Lucy went as quiet as a mouse, but knew it was too late.

“You foul mouthed girl, stand up this instance!”

Lucy quickly stood up.

“You my dear girl, need some humiliation! I am going to let the Head Girl put you over her knee and spank you. This is no longer about petty theft, it s about you being an uncontrolable brat, I am going to teach you how to behave, and become a model schoolgirl, like your superior here!”

Oh and how Lucy hated her being called her superior.

With an air of great superiority Miss Kenwortyhy told Kate to make herself comfortable and Lucy to get over her knee for a bare bottom spanking again!

The Head Girl thought all her birthdays had come at once!

Over she went. The Head Girl  wanted to impress her Mentor, so spanked Lucy’s already red and sore bottom hard and fast.

Miss Kenworthy stood to watch. “Well done, that’s how to do it. Vary your smack so she dos not know where the next is coming!”

“Oh what a good idea, yes I will!”

Smack, crack, whack, spank…

“Owwww, ooooh, awwww, owwwoooowwww!” Squealed Lucy.

The Head Girl loved every second…the sound, the wobbling cheeks, the squeals of pain…everything.

Lucy hated it, but could do nothing but accept it. Miss Kenworthy was acting within the remit of her job as Head of Discipline.

“This is only the start of your humiliation Lucy, trust me, you will leave this room corrected!”

The Head Girl did not want it to end, and was delighted to hear the news.

“Bend over here Lucy, you need to taste some leather young lady!”

Poor Lucy was in a daze, just being guided from one place to the other, she had met her match, and was regretting being a brat, but…too late.

Miss Kenworthy used the senior Tawse on the bare cheeks of Lucy. Then bent down to whisper in her ear.

“Now Lucy, you are getting the cane, but not from me!”

“Nooooo not from her!”

“Yes!”

Miss Kenworthy gave the Head Girl the cane. “Now tell her she is a naughty little girl and is getting six of the very best.

The Head Girl told her.

Miss Kenworthy had seen the look on Lucy’s face when she called the Head Girl her superior. “Now then young lady, tell your superior that you are a very naughty little girl who needs thrashing on your bare bottom, ask her to cane you hard to tach her a lesson.”

Lucy could not believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“Head Girl, I am so sorry for being such a naughty little girl. I am going to bend over and present my bare bottom to you. Please cane me hard Miss. Teach me to be good like you.”

She bent over.

More to come soon….be patient

One girl I have spanked many times is Kate. It got so bad that instead of spanking her on the spot for a misdemeanor I started making her wait, for days. To come to my office. I came to the conclusion that she needed firm discipline with a degree of humiliation. So I positioned a mirror, on a chair, to the side of my office door.

The idea being that the girl can see herself being punished and see how ridiculous she looks crying and wailing with her bottom wiggling and legs kicking. Then I would make her do corner time before it, and stay ther, no matter who, or how many people came to my office. Anyone from the postman, to visitors, to my secretary, and other girls.

She always walked in without a care, and the day after would always say a cheery “Hello Mr Jones” on the corridors.

I came to the conclusion that she was a natural submissive who enjoyed being punished! See what you think, here are some photos…

I always tried to vary both apparatus and implement.

So too the corner time, which also included leaving her with her red bottom high in the air. I always remember the milkman dropping a pint of milk as he entered once!

No matter how hard, how embarrassing for her, or other people, she was back every week, sometimes twice!

Can you see what I mean? She came too often, just too often, compared to other girls.

****

Here is a little vintage set of real schoolgirls, from various on line archives, to give you a feel of what is was like back in the day…

And just think, some of these girls may have been naughty and had a spanking for real!

****

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, just like Kate she would greet me in the corridor with a cheery “Hello Mister Jones!” Maybe it is a sign of the girls who rather like a good spanking!

Oh she appeared in 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 (a few short stories based around a school desk)

NUMBER ONE

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!

NUMBER TWO

…you would have thought an intelligent girl like Samantha would keep her head down after that wouldn’t you?

But oh no! Not naughty Samantha, two days later she was in my class and I caught her reading a naughty book!

“Samantha! What have you got there?”

A book fell to the floor. “Nothing Mr Jones!”

I gasped…”Do you think me stupid, we all just heard it fall, do you want me to make you read some to the class?”

“No…no….er…no Sir!!”

“I thought not! Get out here, now, young lady!”

The rest of the girls snigger and whisper.

She stood slowly, and silently walked to the front of the class.

It was time to use embarrassment. I made her squirm.

“Please turn to face the class Samantha.

I told her to lift her slip and lower her knickers. The class giggled but I did nothing to stop them.

“Bend over you naughty girl and please be good enough to tell the truth. You were reading a naughty book were you not?”

“Yes Mr.Jones.”

“Legs apart!”

I then gave her a crisp dozen smacks. She squealed loudly. “Turn around!”

I gave her another dozen, much harder, with a plimsol. The class was quiet. I was setting an example.

“Now stay there until the end of class young lady. Let your peers see hat a naughty bottom looks like!”

You are sat at the front desk, she glances at you. But you have no chance to convey any sort of message, sympathetic or otherwise.

“Eyes to the front girl, and legs apart please!”

And ther she stayed, her privacy exposed and her sore bottom screaming out to be rubbed, until the bell rang. Crying.

Another lesson given!

NUMBER THREE

Sarah and Charlotte…

“Just how many times do I need to tell you two to be quiet! This is a test, you are supposed to be working on your own. Stop laughing, I told you two to stop laughing!”

“I said stop giggling, this is important! Stand up, the pair of you, perhaps a sore bottom apiece might teach you two to behave! Stand up I said, and lift your gym slips!”

They continued to giggle! “Excuse me young ladies! You still find it funny do you? Lower your knickers!”

Charlotte let out a snort, which made Sarah laugh aloud. “Oh I see, so you do think this is funny? And you expect me to stand here and be ridiculed do you? Well know this girls, you will not get the better of me! Bend over!!”

The pair did bend over, to push their delightful bottoms out and wiggle them to the class, which erupted in laughter. They thought, and indeed, so did I up until this point, that it was going to be nothing more than a spanking.

But I was not going to stand for it!

I picked up a tawse and a cane. “Out to the front, the pair of you, let the class see if you find THIS amusing. Charlotte bend over, present your bottom. Sarah, you stand there!”

I gave Charlotte a few with the tawse as Sarah looked on, horrified and afraid.

Then I caned her!

Sarah’s face was the epitome of a naughty girl seeing her fate unfold, my cane hit hard and true on Charlotte’s bottom.

“Right, swop places!”

It was Charlotte’s turn to watch.

I gave Sarah a caning too, and sent them to stand at the front of the class, bare striped bottoms on show, as I lectured the class.

I gave all 33 girls a very stern lecture. The thrashing had upset some, who were sniffing.

I then made the two naughty girls put their noses to the projection screen for the last half hour of the lesson. Both were crying.

I can assure you, they found it funny no more!

Two more naughty girls dealt with.

NUMBER FOUR

Charlotte on her own this time, playing a very well spoken, polite, privilidged girl.

As her Headmaster I had the enviable job of bending her over a desk for a spanking a few times.

She would walk into the punishment room like a super model. Even to this day I think I was satisfying a desire in her. It was the way she bent over more than anything.

Look how she enters, her uniform and hair perfect.

I told her to sit down, and gave her some work to do. I sat at the back of the room, simply to make her feel uneasy. I told her that she would be spanked, on the bare bottom, when I decided she had done enough work.

After around thirty minutes I told her to stand. She turned and looked at me straight in the eyes and said. “Yes Mr.Jones, Sir.”

But she smiled so sweetly at me, almost as if to say thank you!

She stood and bent over as instructed, her skirt riding up to reveal the white crinkled panties around her tight little pussy. I confess to finding it erotic.

“Skirt up!”

I liked to give crisp, clear, authorative commands.

She pulled her school blazer up, to reveal a beautiful bottom wrapped in the previously mentioned tight white school knickers.

“Knickers down.”

She glanced over her shoulder to watch me approach, which I did slowly, drinking in the glorious sight before me.

Just ten firm smacks to each cheek, and it was over. Her first spanking.

I dismissed her from the room, wrote her punishment details in the book and hoped she would be back soon.

It wasn’t long before she was back.

Here again Charlotte? You are becoming a regular naughty girl aren’t you?

Well you know the drill! Blazer and skirt up, bend over, and lower your knickers!

My eyes focussed on the little wrinkles on her knickers, as she began to wiggle.

Her knickers slowly slid down her legs to the floor, and then she bent over, slowly.

Very slowly indeed.

I walked to pick up my trusty size thirteen plimsol, I was going to enjoy bouncing the rubber sole up and down on her bottom a few times.

As I walked, I glanced at her, she was in a trance almost, breathing quickly, almost excitedly it seemed to me.

….more to be added soon

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!