Mary and the Granite Lady ~ A story by me, using the black and white, with occasional colour illustration, by Tom Paine. To be added step by step as the story grows…

*****

It was over 60 years ago when I first set eyes on Miss Brooks, the Headmistress of a Girls Grammer School high up in the Northumberland coast, England, not far from the Scottish Border. The year was 1958. The school was called Saint Cuthbert’s Senior School for Girls.

It was one of those quirks that Local Educational Authorities of the time threw up.

Being in an isolated, beautifully remote corner of the British Isles, there was little opportunity for further education in the area, so it became a College, for those who stayed on. The same establishment as the school, bearing the same name, but with a separate annex, used by the older girls, ranging from 17 to 20. under the title of St.Cuthbert’s High School.

Its academic reputation was second to none in the area, and girls who left to study at the magnificent Universities of Edinburgh and Newcastle often excelled.

Most girls who went had to have done well at their 11+ exam. Then on to sixteen it was classed as a Girl’s High School. Then the College mentioned above, however another quirk arose, the girls had to wear the same uniform. It has been said that it was Saint Cuthbert’s that gave birth to the modern term of Adult Schoolgirl.

The reason it was called Saint Cuthbert’s was because of the islands that could be seen through the mullioned windows of the old brick, magnificent building, that housed the school. ‘The Farne Islands’, a bleak but beautiful group of twenty or so granite outcrops. That is what made our dear school look so grand. There was so much pale green grass, purple heather and granite outcrops around that area, that our warm red building stood out. As if it proudly wanted to show itself to the world.

And so it should, as previously mentioned it’s academic reputation was high, and many former pupils had achieved great things. Yet at the same time, its reputation of a very strict regime was just as famous. It was Miss Brooks who pointed this out when I started there. She got all the new girls gathered together, and told us a little story about Saint Cuthbert.

She stood there, with her bobbed haircut, slim, and stunningly beautiful…..her voice washed over me, I was in love already. Her voice began to form words again and I paid attention. “……He was a devout Christian with a Holy Order of Monks in the Abbey. No women were allowed. He was so strict in his beliefs that he did not even allow cows! He said, cows are like women! And when women or girls are together, there is mischief!”

We laughed, briefly. But her strict stare stopped that within seconds.

“I believe that too. Girls create mischief. Girls are naturally naughty. In my opinion, the reason that girl’s bottoms are made so plump, is for them to be used as a means of keeping naughty, mischief makers under control! By spanking them!” She looked around the room. It was absolutely still and silent. “And in serious cases, implements should be used!”

We found out later in the day that this beautiful, well dressed Headmistress had a nick name. ‘The Granite Lady’. They said that as far as punishment was concerned, her heart was as cold as a piece of Farne Island Granite. I found it hard to believe.

Within my first term I knew exactly what they meant, I saw many punishments of the previously mentioned, plump young bare buttocks. And often delivered with a cold but beautiful granite smile.

Over the following terms, red bottoms were just a run of the mill thing. They were everywhere, and delivered regularly by all the staff. Every teacher had a size fifteen plimsoll, a tawse, and a cane in their classroom, supplemented by their own personal implements like hair brushes. And in the case of our French Teacher a martinet,

Most good girls like me, soon noticed, that in the main, every class had a group of naughty girls who became the ones to take the brunt of the punishments. So much so, that by the end of the first year, it was deemed funny to see them up ended and bottom bared. A spectacle to be enjoyed, even savoured. Us good girl were this side of the line, the naughty girls had crossed it. Once crossed their bottoms were destined to a life of almost permanent soreness, they were labelled as ‘in need’. That was…in meed of regular discipline. Us good girls loved being on the ‘right side’, and found great pleasure in watching those from the other side ‘get it’.

The greatest spectacle of all was when a good girl crossed over, forever to be labelled a ‘red bum’ by us giggling good girls.

I am sorry to tell you that I crossed the line. But I left it late. I was one of the adult schoolgirls that i have just mentioned.

During my time as a school girl I was good.

But in my latter years, in the College Annex, I faltered.

I blame my Aunt Julia. Although to this day she denies it. She was and is wonderful. At the time she lived in America! Not only was she my Aunt, but she was my pen friend. Not only sending letters, but gifts too.

Our High School uniform was the same as at school, white vest, white pant liners, green knickers…the knickerbocker kind, so we could use them for P.E.. …on top was a white blouse and school tie, covered by a gym slip and blazer when needed. Our legs were bare, sometimes socks, white, when no socks we wore shoe liners. But we did not mind, very few people saw us, other than the locals.

Strangely, a lot of us agreed that we felt safe in our ‘school uniform’, it meant that we did not have to behave as ladies in the sense of girls in a finishing school. We could be ‘forever young’, playing the same girlish girls as we always had, protected in our bubble.

I was proud of my ‘presents from America’ and knew my friends from this side of the line were either envious or jealous. My Propelling Pencil was the envy of the school. Even Miss Brooks asked to see it one day, I was so proud.

The sixth form could wear stockings. It was always a joy to see a girl spanked in them, especially by a Prefect! Which was not only allowed, but encouraged!

I was in the year seven, my reputation as I said, was of a good hard working girl. I kept to the rules which were vigorously enforced, even at our age, by spankings or worse.

Until a a parcel from America came, containing pantyhose, soon to be called ‘tights’ in England. It never crossed my mind I was breaking ‘Miss Brooks Code of Dress’, when I put them on for High School.

I was just going to show everyone my latest Yankee Prized Present. I can remember the joy when I put them on…

I left for school on this side of the good girl line, I was to return with more marks on my bottom than Aunt Julia’s flag had stars! And my poor pleasingly plump, rounded buttocks would be forever on the ‘red bum side’…

Bum! What a silly school girl word. A good girl word. Not at all suitable for God’s finest creation.

Let me explain…

Once over the line, one of the proudest things you owned was your bottom. Two fleshy pink soft round buttocks, ripe for spanking. It was said that naughty girls possessed the most beautiful naughty bare bottoms, and loved to show them off! More evidence of being a naughty girl!! It was said that every good bottom was jealous of a naughty bottom, and that is the real reason they delight in their spankings! Jealousy and revenge on a naughty girl for possessing a desirable rump!

I went to school smugly showing my lightly tanned smooth legs. How fabulous, how jealous everyone would be.

Have you heard the old saying, ‘Pride Comes before a Fall’? Well, ::sigh:: I went to school with my nose high, I was in an aloof and haughty mood. I walked with long strides, wiggling my bottom…thinking back I must have looked a little silly, but in my mind I was Greta Garbo. It worked, the ‘good girls’ looked on enviously, and with jealousy. How stuck up I must have looked to them all. And we all know there is no better sight than an aloof, haughty, stuck up girl getting a spanking. The good girls were in for the treat of their lives!

As for the ‘naughty girls’, well, it was as if they knew I was ‘crossing the line that day’ A couple whistled at me, and shouted “Look at you today Mary, have you got stockings on, watch out for the granite hatchet! It might fall on you!”

I shouted back in my poshest voice. “No, not stockings! They are so yesterday! I wear tights now, they came to me special, from America. Over there they call them Panty Hose.”

A cold calm voice answered me. Miss Brooks had heard every word. She had just come around the corner as I was shouting over my shoulder, looking back. I almost bumped into her, then stood rock steady, only two feet away from her.”Mary! How dare you come to school in those, you are breaking a serious rule my girl, and you know what that means! Not only that, you strutted across the playground, showing off, and then belittled the less fortunate. You young lady are getting too big for your boots! let me see the offending garment!”

How they laughed at my plight.

How I blushed as she yanked up my gym slip, for all to see. Worst of all, she did nothing to stop the laughter and hoots of derision. I was humiliated and could feel my blush coming. They had seen my pride, and now, quite spectacularly, my fall from grace was beginning, my journey to the other side of the line had started.

I was led smartly to her study.

I was glad, because I had seen many bare bottom spanking, slipperings and canings in public. At least this was going to be in private I thought.

Her Study had always been a place of pride for me, I had picked up a few awards over the years. She was always generous in her praise, and I remember on many occasions beaming with pride as I left. But instead of the sunny, beautiful smelling, polished wood, place of pride, on that day it turned into something dark, broody, and threatening. I was afraid, by all accounts her generosity in giving out pain and humiliation, especially to first time offenders was far greater.

She closed the door.

Then she told me to sit on a chair that she pulled out. “Was this what my bottom going to get spanked over.” I wondered.

“Oh Mary! I am so disappointed in you. I never thought that you would cross the line. You realise that if that is the case, your bottom will be subject to repeated spankings and worse don’t you?”

“Yes Miss Brooks.”

“I show little or no mercy to naughty bottoms, they need reddening and striping regularly. Anyway, I suppose I should listen to the usual account of bad luck, temptation, being led astray…and blaming someone else. All you naughty girls are the same! Long excuses which at the end, invariably amount to nothing more than rubbish. So let me hear what you have to say young lady!”

I sat and told her of my love of Aunt Julia from America, and how pleased I was with my lovely tights, and how modern I felt. But as time passed by it was obvious it was falling on deaf ears. I realised I was stroking my tights lovingly as she shouted…

“Oh what drivel! I thought that you, at least, might conjure up something remotely worth while listening to! But instead you have described your pride, your selfishness, your haughtiness. Me, me, me! What about those girls less fortunate? Do you think they want to feel envious and see you showing off? Because Mary, that is what you are! A show off! YOU…HAVE …CROSSED…THE…LINE. From today on, you are on the naughty side of the line, and very few, very few indeed, ever return to the good side!”

My heart sank. My world collapsed.

“Remove your gym slip, your shirt, and your green regulation knickerbockers!….I mean NOW!”

My only consolation was that I was in her study, perhaps my previous good record had accorded me that grace…a private punishment.

I began to fumble as my nervous hands trembled. But slowly I did as instructed. How embarrassing. How humiliating, to undress before my hero, my mentor, in shame and disgrace.

I stood, and she put my chair away, which I found puzzling. Surely I was not to bend over the desk for her to use some implement, not on my first time.

Slowly like some sordid striptease I removed my clothes, down to my vest, tights and pants, under her gaze. Already her demeanor towards me was greatly different. She was scornful and amused. She found my profound embarrassment and blushing, amusing. I began to fear her…dreadfully.

My face was crimson. As my green knickers left my hand to slide to my ankles, I felt ashamed, horribly ashamed. Little did I know, what terrible shock was about to be delivered to me. I was hanging on to being a good girl, by my fingernails, the abyss of the ‘naughty girl’ loomed deep and dark below me. What she would say in the next minute would make me lose what grip I had, and fall from grace.

I stood there waiting in the dim light to see what sentence would be passed, I was quite convinced by now that in this lovely old study, my bottom was going to be reddened, but how?

“So you wanted to show your present off?” She said sternly, “The present being your…tights?”

“Y-yes Miss Brooks.” I replied nervously. I could tell by her manner and slight amusement, as she watched my reactions with great interest. That some horrid announcement was coming my way.

“Then let us show them off together young lady!” She said as she took my hand, and led me down the corridors, and across the quadrangle path through the carefully tended rose gardens. All the way people giggled and stared. Indeed my tights were being shown off, in a rather glorious, embarrassing, humiliating way.

I wondered where she was taking me at first, but it soon became obvious, I was heading for my classroom. “Oh no Miss Brooks, please no, not before my class!” I cried.

She spoke even louder then, “Oh yes young lady! You are getting a jolly good spanking before your whole class. And that is only the start!”

I remembered a girl who had once come in stockings, she was punished before her class and then humiliated in the most terrible way for her pride. Suddenly it all became very similar to my own plight. And, as if by a sign of fate, we passed by the aforementioned girl, who shouted…”It looks like you are going to join my exclusive club Mary”

I could see her bend over, and her friend who was a Prefect, lifted her skirt and smacked her bottom. I saw her for an instant in those stockings! But of course she was not wearing them really.

Miss Brooks said nothing, in fact I am sure she gave a little chuckle. Naughty girls were fair game for ridicule, and with every step, I realised that that was exactly what I now was!

My classroom loomed, I could hear the usual happy laughter, all seemed normal. Then one by one they saw me coming. Dressed in my singlet, tights and panties…what a silly sight I must have looked. Without doubt the suspicions of Miss Brooks were confirmed as various comments drifted to my ears.

“Oh it looks like supermodel ‘Show-off Mary’ is finding out she is not so special after all….LOOK!!!”

“Pride comes before a fall Mary! Guess who is crossing the line today girls!”

“Mary is going to get spanked everyone….look, she is a naughty girl!”

Oh the shame of being led into a room full of your peers, in your underwear, being led by the beautiful Granite Lady. I was guilty of being aloof, a show off, and full of pride!

The laughter and chatter changed to eagerness. I could remember the delight in seeing a naughty girl go bare bottom up…”Oh no!” I thought, “It is always on the bare bottom!!! Everyone is going to see my bare bottom and my pussy, I am getting spanked…OH GOD….I AM GETTING A BARE BOTTOM SPANKING BEFORE MY WHOLE CLASS!!….and what did she say? This was only the start? Horrible memories of what I saw the day that the girl in stockings was caught came flooding in. I looked at the faces of my classmates, they were thinking the same!!!”

Miss Brooks stood me before the class, I dare not look at them. I knew without doubt that seeing a previously good girl, cross the line to the naughty side, would be causing great interest. Sat right at the front was Matilda, my biggest rival. We had been trying to get the better of each other at every test, every sport, every piece of homework. How she would revel in my down fall. “Oh my God!” I thought,”… she is going to see my bare bottom, and probably my pussy. They will laugh and point and jeer. Oh no….I am a naughty girl, this is only the first of what might well be dozens of spankings. And Matilda will do her hardest to see it happens as often as possible, and her friends…Jane, Hermione, Charlotte, Kate, Samantha….oh God!!! And some of my friends might join her little gang. I have lost, Matilda has won…and what if Mum finds out….oh no! Matilda’s Mummy knows my Mummy! My Mummy went to buy a slipper before I came here, and said if ever I got spanked at school, I’d get spanked at home!!!”

Reality dawned. And an image of my Mummy with that slipper flew into my mind…for a second or two. Then Miss Brooks tugged my tights. I came out of my stupor and flew back to reality.

“Now then young lady! You know very well that these are not part of the school uniform. Yet you have strutted in to our beloved school thinking you are a film star or something, too good for your friends, these poor ordinary girls, who have not got an American Aunty to shower them with fancy gifts. I’ll tell you what you actually are Mary;….YOU…ARE… A … VERY NAUGHTY LITTLE GIRL WHO IS GOING TO GET A BARE BOTTOM SPANKING OVER MY KNEE BEFORE THE WHOLE CLASS!!!” The Granite Lady shouted.

I heard excited chatter and laughter.

I had just been officially classified as a Naughty Girl. I had crossed the line.

Miss Brooks turned me to face the class. “Now keep your face up you naughty girl, and tell the class your name and what exactly you are.”

It was horrible, girls were laughing at my plight, chattering between themselves about how hard I would get it, and all sorts. I began to cry, my face was a bright crimson red. I took a deep breath, sniffed and said. “I am Mary, and I am a naughty girl.”

There was uproarious laughter.

“I did not hear you…did you class?”

Almost in one voice they all replied. “No Miss Brooks.”

“Maybe if I fetched a naughty stool and stood you on it, you might talk properly, now, one last chance, say it again.”

“MY NAME IS MARY AND I AM A NAUGHTY GIRL.”

“That’s better. Now tell the class what happens to naughty girls.” Said Miss Brooks, as cold as granite.

“NAUGHTY GIRLS GET THEIR BARE BOTTOMS PUNISHED MISS BROOKS.”

“Yes they do, and now, you are going to get your first spanking, on your bare bottom, before the whole class!” She said almost laughing.

All the girls laughed, and some even clapped in glee!

Miss Brooks went and got a chair. I hid my face, it was terrible, it was humiliating, I was frightened, how much would it hurt? How would I handle it?”

She sat down and very slowly pulled my knickers down. Can you imagine how that feels, all my life ‘down there’ had been private, my twopence was on show.

“Look at her pussy, she has no hair!” Laughed Matilda loudly. “I bet she is the last one in the class to reach puberty!”

That remark hurt, I had reached puberty. years ago, like all the rest, but because my aunt Julia sent me all the magazines on style and personal care, I shaved my pussy as the magazines said to do, it was high fashion in America, and like a fool I said so!

“Actually I shave my pussy and keep it free of hair for hygiene, like all the top fashion magazines and especially my American ones!”

Miss Brooks said nothing, a naughty girl is fair game to anyone. If they wanted to ridicule my smooth groin, they could. Me however soon learned to keep my mouth shut.

“There you go again Mary, you do think a lot of yourself don’t you? Even at a moment like this, you have to show off your feeling of superiority don’t you? That is very unwise young lady. I can see that after this spanking is done with, you need a big lesson in humility!!”

I felt cool air blow over my bottom, and strangely, as I stood before them, the strangest thing happened, my pussy began to dribble. Nobody saw it, but I was wet…why?

They could all see my naked private parts, their eyes were glued to my pussy, all I had done was draw attention to it! but worst of all was the close up eyes of Miss Brooks, she could see my pussy in all its detail. She looked at my shaving too!

“Waaaah, waaaah…..please stop! I don’t like it, I’m frightened, everybody can see my shaved tuppy!”

…well, that brought the house down, if I was on the stage it would have been my best line, they howled with laughter at me. “That’s what little girls call it Mary! is that why you shave it? To look like a little girl? What a silly little girl you are, spank her naughty bottom Miss Brooks, spank her hard!”

It was like being in a Roman Arena, they were baying for my spanking!

Oh how I shouted, what an embarrassing fuss I made!

“SHUT UP YOU SILLY LITTLE GIRL….even a first year would not make this fuss, and I have not even smacked your bottom yet!” Said Miss Brooks cruelly picking up on the ‘little girl’ jibe.

She seized my wrist and began to pull.

The Granite Lady proved to the class exactly why she was nick-named as such, she coolly joined in with the laughter, like playing to a crowd. The more they laughed and taunted, the more she seemed to enjoy it.

“Let’s get this silly little, noisy, girl over my knee shall we? Her bare bottom up high for all to see! I think she needs a jolly good old fashioned, over the knee, bare bottom spanking. Do you agree?” She asked the baying mob.

‘Yes spank her Miss Brooks!’

‘Make her bottom bright red Miss Brooks!’

‘Make her squeal and wriggle Miss Brooks!’

Spank her, spank her, spank her!

How the horrid girls encouraged her, I began to pull back, Miss Brook’s smile became cruel. Then she pulled me over her lap.

There I was, my upturned bare bottom higher than my head. I turned, hoping to see a smile of kindness, and maybe a reprieve, as she said it was just a joke to teach me a lesson. But no!

As I looked up at my two well formed, rounded, pale white orbs, rising high above me like moons, I saw her face. A smile yes, but not the one I hoped for. With an authoritatively raised finger she spoke, coldly.

“Right then young lady, despite your advancing years, you are going to get a jolly good spanking on your bare bottom, like a naughty school girl. In fact, because of your age, it will be an extra hard, extra long one!”

How the girls cheered and clapped at such news!

I was now ‘over the line’ and over her knee. It began!

WHACK!!!!

I remember the shock of the first smack on my bare bottom by Miss Brooks so well, it is something you can never forget. I don’t think a blacksmith could have landed a slap harder, I felt the shock wave ripple through my bottom and into my hips, the flesh rippled like water after a landing stone. How could such a delicate woman have such a heavy hand? Her fingers were rigid like a row of small wooden poles. How it stung!

I had never been so shocked, I thought, and hoped, that she might build up slowly, but that first smack was as hard as the last. It came from high up behind her head, and was forced down through the air at such a speed.

But even worse was the pain reaching my nervous system or wherever it goes!! It was tremendous, horrible, frightening, shocking, it hurt soooo much.

My legs kicked, my back tried to arch but she was so strong, I had no escape, all I could do was…

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOHHHH!!”

Yes it was that bad, my scream must have nigh on burst every eardrum in the room, and within seconds…

WHACK! Another, right on top of the first, I wasn’t going to survive, my bod could not take it, another WHACK followed. I was bucking like a rodeo horse, I needed sympathy, I needed saving, I needed rescuing, I needed it to stop, and that is what I shouted, loudly!

“STOP STOP STOP STOP OWWWWWWWWWW IT HURTS IT HURTS, STOP STOP STOP OWWWWWWWW!”

Did I get one ounce of mercy, one ounce of comfort? No!!!

I got two things….ridicule and a loud telling off for being so silly!

WHACK! WHACK!WHACK!

Then for some ridiculous reason I made my torment worse, I shouted “Mummy, mummy, help, stop it……owwwwww, oooooh, yieeeeeeee!!”

How they laughed at me and shouted such horrible things!

“Oh poor Mary, your mummy is not here to help, and if she was she would probably do the same to you afterwards!”

“Oh look at her, I have never seen anyone take a spanking so badly, listen to her!”

“Haaahaaaaaa! Look at her bum wobbling, it’s bright red already!”

The spanking was relentless, it is hard to describe the panic, but I will try. Imagine there is a candle flame, and somebody says put the palm of your hand over it….what would you do? You would pull it away as soon as it hurt. But imagine that they grab your wrist, and hold it there!!!

That is how a spanking is. The pain builds quickly to unbearable limits, and your whole body says move! But you cannot. Her grip was tight, and her smacks so hard and fast.

Let me tell you this, there is only one thing you can do…NOTHING! You are powerless, the only person who decides when it is going to stop is Miss Brooks, and she is cruel with it. She laughs and tells you how silly you are, she points this out to the girls watching, who in turn jeer, and laugh at every scream and wiggle. And…it gets worse, the more you make a fuss, the more it encourages the watcher to ridicule and spur on the spanker, who in turn finds renewed energy and spanks even harder and faster!

It is horrible to the extreme, but not to the watchers or the spanker! Your fuss and wildness is just what they want, they delight in your suffering!

But it has an effect on your mind. Now, I am in my thirties, and I need to re-enact this day as often as I can. I have a Disciplinarian, whom I need to see every month, I now need this, I mean NEED this. . I need to feel a soft lap under me, I need to be shouted at, and ridiculed, and the humiliation of people watching makes it better…much better. But I digress, lets go back to when it was new, and I hated everything about it…

…Wriggling and bucking about like a rodeo horse is involuntary. So is howling, screaming and kicking your legs at the knees. And crying! When was the last time you cried so hard that it hurt your eyes and face? Oh I wailed and wailed and wailed.

Slap after slap after slap landed on my bright red bottom, I hoped that my bottom would go numb or something, but no, every one hurt like the first, I was in agony.

I glanced to the class for solace and pity, but there was none, Matilda, Jane, Kate, and Samantha,were laughing and pointing, jeering and shouting encouragement to Miss Brooks. Even the other girls were going ‘ooooh…’, ‘oh ohhh look at her bum!’, ‘harder harder Mrs Brooks!’ and so on!

It felt like it was never going to end!

The only place I could find comfort was the floor, the cold wooden, parquet floor, how could this have happened to me?

“Waaaaaaaah!……oooooooooooooooHHHHH! …OOOOOWWWWOOOOW!”

SMACK, CRACK, WHACK,THWACK,SMACK, SMACK …it went on and on!

I could only do one thing…and do what my body demanded. That was to take my spanking very, very, very badly. I screamed and screamed, kicked and kicked, wailed and wailed, cried and cried, wiggled and wiggled! And it did not make one ounce of difference to it, in fact it made it even worse, I felt like a horse under the jockey’s whip, no matter how much I bucked and galloped, the audience wanted more!

It has been said since that my spanking performance was nothing short of magnificent, and that anyone wanting to see a girl very soundly spanked, whilst making a ridiculous spectacle of herself, then mine was the one to watch!

I screamed the place down!

Being spanked is a lonely place in a way, not in the sense of how public it might be of course, but inside yourself.

I WAS ON MY OWN.

My bottom was on fire, it hurt more and more every second. I knew I was embarrassing myself before my peers but could do nothing about it. I could hear jeers and laughter, and the smacks…oh those very loud smacks, as crisp and clean as anything, still ring in my ears today when I think of it.

I have already hinted at this, but there is another feeling I must describe, because in later life I read about it, and it seems it is a quite common occurrence. It is why, like I said earlier, I go to a disciplinarian. I have to be spanked until I have an orgasm, thrusting into his lap. Yet at the time I thought I must be mad, and explained it to myself by this…

The spanking was now quite a fast repetitive rhythm, her hand slamming down and bouncing of the left cheek and then the on the right, it was so regular that I was clenching my cheeks and thighs in a regular rhythm to match. This of course squeezed my pussy lips together in the same rhythm, making it tingle and feel the exact opposite of what I was feeling only inches away!

Can you imagine the confusion in my mind and body, my bottom was screaming STOP STOP STOP!!!! But my pussy was whispering deep down there….don’t stop, keep it going.

I knew everyone was watching and shouting, some girls got carried away and took up the beat with claps or bangs on the desk with their palm, the room was now a cacophony of noise, my painful red….and now shiny cheeks! Being the epicentre of what seemed almost like an earthquake of pain down its crack and my upper thighs.

Yes, I kid you not, my bottom was the reddest anyone had ever seen a bare bottom, the heat and pain radiated right through to my bucking tummy, I was screaming my lungs out begging for it to stop. I managed a glance as I writhed and wriggled, my two plump orbs were now obviously swollen, and the skin was tight and shiny, I was afraid that my bottom cheeks would pop like two balloons!

Matilda, it would have to have been her of all people, brought forth a scream of laughter when she shouted loudly, I MEAN VERY LOUDLY!

“WOWWWWWW! LOOK AT HER CRIMSON BOTTOM, HER CHEEKS ARE LIKE TWO GIANT SNOOKER BALLS ON MY DADDY’S SNOOKER TABLE!”

That was the final insult, the topmost humiliation of the whole spanking, there I was in the most terrible situation of my life, and my reward was the loudest outburst of laughter I had ever heard.

Looking back now, I think I am glad it happened. You see, being spurred on by the whole class had made Miss Brooks spank quite magnificently.

Like a crowd of Romans baying for blood, urging on a heroic gladiator fighting for his freedom, she had been urged on like never before. Her whole body was swaying, forcing her arm to fall much faster than gravity and landing each smack with surprising force, her palms must have hurt more than my bottom, I thank God to this day that it was only her palm, and not the fabled, smooth, backed, heavy old oak hairbrush, she keeps in the top drawer of her desk.

It sort of snapped her back to her senses, she stopped, it was over, she let me slide to the floor. Ohhh my dear reader, the relief! THE BLESSED RELIEF!! But little did I know of what was to come. I had now idea, this was only stage one one my most terrible day…you will find out later. But what struck me then was the afterburn! The relief finished as soon as it had stopped, to be replaced by something worse.

After the spanking stopped, my bottom was ignited like a bonfire, each cheek roasted before the class like two roast potatoes nestled by a joint of beef, if they had spat and bubbled I would not have been surprised.

I made an even bigger fool of myself.

It must have been the pain in my bottom of course, what else could it have been? But on landing on my knees I screamed loudly…

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ooooooooooohh, owwww, owwww, oooh, ooooh ,ooooowwwwwoooowww! My bottoms on fire, it’s on fire! Put it out! Put it out!” What a stupid thing too say! I made it worse my crawling around quickly on my hands and knees, as if trying to take my cheeks out of a raging coal fire, to escape the burning sensation.

Of course it was Matilda who voiced what everyone was seeing. “Look at her, she is trying to crawl away from the spanking pain in her bottom, look how fast she is scuttling around trying to escape it!”

Once again I was the centre of ridicule, how stupid I felt, after my second lap around Miss Brooks, on all fours! I stopped and did the silliest of things, I grabbed my bottom!

“YEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWOOOOHHHH!!! It was like having five white hot coals thrust into my skin.

PART ONE ENDS HERE, PART TWO IS HERE…

…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=36287

Here is part 3…

…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=38967

I have made Tom his own art page…click here…

…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=32323

Asa

This is the continuation of a story written by ‘B’ and myself.

To see more of B’s work, click on ‘links and contributors’ above. Then click on ‘contributors’ and scroll down to her page.

I would like to mention the game she runs. A very well designed, and well run affair. If you like spanking or being spanked, but find it hard to do for real, then this is for you. They are looking for new players, especially teachers! There are lots of naughty girl players there, who want, need, and earn bare bottom spankings, canings etc

click here…

Uncle Redmoon part 3

The door with the brass knocker was opened by a tall smiling gentleman dressed with an elegant tweed suit. He had a warm voice and looked like a retired headmaster. I was reassured. As I noticed the old furniture, I picked up the scent of beeswax. I discovered his study, and a small classroom with a blackboard and a couple of desks.

He had me sit across his desk to sign my agreement for the “tartan rules”. I blushed redder and redder as he explained them.

“A blue tartan skirt for when you come here, a red tartan one for when you leave, and to wear the next day. This way, everyone will know you are coming for punishment, and also, know that you have been punished.”

I felt my cheeks glowing as I signed.

Next, he gave me a beautiful punishment book for recording my shortcomings, my grades and obviously the punishments I will be given. He opened it and I discovered my name written in superb copper plate. “This is your punishment book. Sign here…” He pointed to a dotted line below my name. “…to show that you understand and accept the rules.”

I flipped a few empty pages with dismay. I wondered if anyone had ever filled one. Then he had me read the first entry: ‘First Punishment – Bare bottom spanking over Uncle’s lap’.   He also had me write: “For having failed a test because of laziness.”  
I can’t say that I was surprised. Anna had told me about her first punishment.

“Now go behind that screen, and change into the uniform. Including school knickers and vest. In other words, strip completely naked, and just put on the clothes provided. Then come back and stand on the small stool to read your words. Then we will decide how many smacks, 20, 30, 40 etc. I always do multiples of ten…”

On the other side of the screen, my cheeks recovered their natural color until I pulled up the white cotton schoolgirl knickers and matching bra. With the white blouse and knee-high socks, I was again blushing. The red tartan kilt I will have to wear on the way home was short, as short as Mom would have allowed when I was a six former. I couldn’t imagine going back to the bank with such an attire. I tried to reason that Anna had twice worn that uniform, as well as the receptionist…

My reverie was interrupted. “Ready?”

I stepped from behind the screen with a glowing blush and tugged down my punishment skirt. I walked by the school desks, not daring to meet his gaze

“Stand on the small stool to read your words. Then we will decide how many smacks you deserve.”

I started to confess my sins in a shy whispering voice and was soon told to speak up and start over.

“I have been lazy. I hadn’t prepared enough for my test and flunked it. I guess that I deserve to be punished. It will, hopefully, teach me to better apply myself. The grades of my friend Anna have improved after each of her visits. I really want that certificate. I don’t want to be a bank teller all my life…”

He stood, quite solemnly, like a vicar about to read a painful sermon to a church full of sinners. He spoke calmly, in a gentle, unhurried way. I had no doubt that he was going to severely punish me, but I felt safe.   “Hmmm.” He pondered, and coughed, a short deep gravely cough. I listened while tugging my skirt as a schoolgirl about to be punished.
“Twenty hand spanks for laziness, and twenty more for not preparing your test. Plus ten with my trusty oak hairbrush spread over your lower cheeks and upper thighs. They will make you squeal and you will remember them when temptation comes knocking at your door…understood?” He asked.

Head bowed, I answered. “Yes Sir.”

He pulled out his captain chair, beautifully cared for, polished studded green leather and mahogany. He walked slowly to a huge cupboard. I could not see in. It was like a secret ceremony, unhurried and deliberate. I was quite transfixed, and in the strangest of ways, slightly amused by the seriousness of it all, and at the same time, enthralled by him, magnificent in his tweed, looking quite handsome for an old man. He took a very hard looking, oak hairbrush from the cupboard. He glanced at me, and I swear to this day that a diamond like glint flashed through his eyes.

He sat, like some kind old uncle about to give me a sweet, and read a story. I thought that he was going to invite me to sit on his knees. It was a silly thought he dispelled with, “Come here, stand to my right…here. Facing the school desk.” He pointed to the desk, and I stood facing away from him.d.

The only thing I could do was obey. Strangely though, I obeyed with a smile, and felt a slight eagerness knowing that I deserve to be punished.   Then he told me to raise my grey skirt, and I obeyed with a blush replacing my previous smile. Suddenly, he briskly lowered my knickers to my knees, and when I tried to cover my apricot with lowering my skirt, he gently added, “Please keep your skirt up.” I felt goose bumps over my lower cheeks while my upper ones glowed.  

“Turn around.” He told me.

B and Asa To be continued…

To read more about spanking and rocking horses from Robyn, click here…

…https://www.spanking-emporium.co.uk/spanking-emporium/?p=29486

To see more of her excellent writing on all things spanking, just click on ‘links and contributors’ above, then click on ‘contributors’…and scroll down to find her pages.

Rocking horses revisited

by Robyn Jones

Rocking horses feature in a lot in Asa’s stories, particularly in his story about ‘The Inveigle’, where ‘Little Neddy’ makes several appearances! I also featured rocking horses in one of my earlier posts, quoting from a novel called ‘Beatrice’ concerning a young lady being spanked whilst riding a rocking horse. You will remember this lovely picture by Paula Russell from a relatively recent addition of the book:

Here is another Paula Russell illustration for a story in Janus by Nick Fowler called ‘A.W.O.L.’:

Not exactly a rocking horse, but a rather beautifully drawn picture by Herric/Cheri Herouard. I haven’t a clue what the story-line is behind this picture, but I’m sure it was rather interesting!

This rocking horse scenario is repeated in a fair number of other erotic novels and stories, as for instance the one described  in ‘School for Scandal – Memoirs of Lord Frederick CYR’. Although the novel was supposedly written by ‘Anonymous’, it is actually the work of Richard Manton. 

Richard Manton is a well-known pseudonym in the stories and books concerning erotic flagellation or chastisement, the name appearing as the author or editor of numerous erotic novels, many of them are set in the Victorian era, such as ‘A Birch in the Boudoir’ and ‘School for Scandal’. He also wrote numerous shorter stories for Janus Magazine, such as ‘The Man with the Golden Rod’. 

In the second chapter of ‘School for Scandal’ there is an incredibly erotic account of some spanking and sex in which a rocking horse plays a big part in the action. I thought that I would post some extracts from this chapter to wet your appetites. The illustrations used are not from the original book.

The story revolves around Lord Frederick who inherits a large mansion and estate. On arrival he discovers two young ladies in residence, Laura (aged 17) and Ruth (aged 16), who were being ‘looked after’ by Mr.Fortescue the previous owner of the house as a ‘charitable work’. It later transpires that Mr.Fortescue, who was  very ‘partial to whipping’, had been giving the two girls ‘riding lessons’ on a pair of old rocking horses in his attic! 

Soon after his arrival, Lord Frederick observes the two ladies surreptitiously making their way up to the attic.  Out of curiosity he follows them:

You may be sure that when I tip-toed out to the marble-paved hall, it was curiosity and not suspicion which led me… I stood in the hallway and looked up at the graceful curve of the stairs above. What do you suppose I saw? Laura and Ruth moving softly to the attic floor…

A gentleman does not choose to be a spy upon the young ladies in his care, but I resolved to discover what was happening in that spacious attic room. If it was innocent amusement, there was no harm in my peeping upon it. If it was something else, then the sooner I discovered, the better it must be…

 When I reached the attic landing and stood there soundlessly, the place was in darkness. All the light was in the old playroom where I had first set eyes upon Laura and Ruth that afternoon. I ventured to the interior window which looked from the darkened landing into the gas lit room with its comfortable old sofas and its pair of rocking-horses.

Even as I watched Laura walking across the room to the cupboard, it seemed to me that the front of my trousers had grown uncomfortably tight. The rounded sweep of her silky golden-brown page-boy hair swung to and fro across her shoulder-blades. She has that lithe and firm young figure of a seventeen-year-old which is alluringly shown in the tight blue denim of her riding jodhpurs. My pulse beat faster at the trim young thighs and the agile rounding of Lauras bottom-cheeks, so high and taut in their youthful elasticity. This delightful girl crossed the room, stopping only to stroke the painted smooth flanks of the wooden rocking-horse with an affection which seemed curiously bestowed on an inanimate creature. As she bowed her head demurely, the golden brown waves of her tresses fell from their central parting on either side of her pretty face. It almost seemed as if Laura struggled against her natural shame and modesty. All the time, however, the luscious and tautly rounded buttocks of this seventeen-year-old nymph moved lasciviously under the tight denim of her riding-pants. Laura went to a cupboard on the far side of the room and returned to the rocking-horse with a leather saddle. I was puzzled at first. Whoever heard of strapping a saddle on a toy horse? Yet when I looked more closely, I saw that the saddle was not quite of the usual shape. It had a slight projection rising up from it and a ridge which ran down its length. I guessed the reason, of course, for such a shape. Often in India I heard tales of ladies being made to ride the masturbating saddle for the amusement of their masters. Yet this was my first sight of the ingenious contrivance. 

 A collage based on some of Asa’s photos in which Kate demonstrates the use of a masturbation stool – an antique version of the modern ‘Sybian Saddle’!

……Laura stripped herself to a sleeveless blouse above the waist, ready for the warm work which lay ahead. She undid the riding-jeans, the golden-brown hair cascading round her face again as she pulled them off. Her panties came next and soon I was able to admire Laura’s naked charms from her waist to her heels. I confess freely that those tight slim thighs of a girl of seventeen please me greatly. Laura’s bottom-cheeks had the same taut elasticity, though with the first signs of a womanly roundness. Her belly was flat and delightfully ornamented by the little curls of golden fleece at the opening of her legs.

I have since seen Ruth, Jacqui, Diane, and several other girls ride the ingenious saddle. Yet I shall never forget how my heart jumped when Laura first cocked her leg wide astride it and settled down. At first she sat upright, content to gasp with a woman’s natural expectation as she felt the protrusion enter between the lips of her pudenda a little. I listened intently and presently heard the first slipperiness which assured me that Laura was lubricating nicely in her excitement, milking the love dew from her Venus-cleft on to the leather thumb between her legs. 

To watch the demure slim figure of Laura riding the phallic saddle was to see a pretty pagan queen astride her stallion. Her neck was arched back, the rounded page-boy cut of golden hair brushing her shoulder-blades. Her eyes were closed in a dream of bliss and her pretty teeth fretted at her lower lip in the excitement. Laura’s slim and agile thighs gripped the smooth wooden flanks of her mount in a desperate, pulsing rhythm as she struggled to bring herself to orgasm. And all this time, sixteen-year-old Ruth with her solemn young face and cropped curls looked on in astonishment. 

“Ahh! … Ahhhh! … Ah-ah-ah!” Laura’s whimpering sighs broke the silence of the room, the jerk of her bare hips in the saddle urging the rocking-horse forward and back, forward and back. … Presently all decorum was overcome. Laura threw herself forward, hugging the wooden neck of the horse and lying along its back so that she might feel the rude leather phallus more deeply. As she jigged and pumped herself upon the polished erection, her hips were thrust back almost over the wooden rump of her mount. With her thighs stretched wide she showed a rear glimpse of the projection entering her in its lewd rhythm. The lithe young cheeks of Laura’s bottom were also pulled hard apart by the thrust of her hips. With the long page-boy cut of her golden tresses and her high-boned prettiness, she looked a perfect picture. Between her spread rear cheeks I could even see the dark dimple of Laura’s arsehole, so appealingly tight and vulnerable.

I do not think that Laura attained her climax, even after twenty minutes of lascivious riding. Instead she lay limp, moist, and panting astride her mount. Then it seemed that she forced herself to surrender her own pleasure to that of her friend. Easing herself from 

the saddle, Laura went to Ruth and took the other girl into her arms.

Ruth was by far the more shy and reluctant of the pair. It needed Laura to kiss the quivering lips and fluttering eyelids, to stroke the short crop of fair curls and murmur reassurance into those startled ears… Ruth wore tight caramel jodhpurs and a black singlet with a belt round her waist. The softer fullness of Ruth’s bottom-cheeks and hips made an intriguing contrast to Laura’s slim beauty. 

It was Laura now who was undoing Ruth’s jodhpurs and Ruth who was trying to back away. I was so often to have a rear view of Ruth’s bottom, its soft young cheeks rolling and rounding as she climbed the slopes of the gardens in one corner of this estate. Yet now I was all agog for my first glimpse of her with her pants down. Behold, the caramel jodhpurs fell. Only Ruth’s knickers concealed her now, the filmy knickers caught up by the dampness of her body between her legs and in her rear cleft. 

Soon they were gone. Laura’s hand was soothing Ruth between the legs, consoling her whimpered protests as one hushes an awkward child. As I watched, I saw Ruth’s softer thighs and ass-cheeks begin to move in a tightening and contracting rhythm upon the fingers busy between her legs. She kissed Laura back quite as hard as the slim pretty girl had kissed her in the first place. Without resistance, Ruth allowed herself to be led to the rocking-horse and mounted astride its saddle. 

“Lie forward, Ruth,” said Laura quietly, “Put your arms round the horse’s neck. Open yourself nice and wide, my love.” 

Ruth obeyed. It was charming to see how she lay with her halo of fair curls, her face turned aside as if to let Laura admire her wide brown eyes and the sweet pertness of her nose and chin. Now the older girl stroked the soft pale shimmer of Ruth’s bottom flesh and thighs. Laura’s hand slipped between the stretched legs from the rear, stroking and fondling as she coaxed Ruth to ride gently. Forward and back … forward and back … forward and back… 

…Now she bowed her halo of cropped fair curls to hide her eyes and opened herself more fully to Laura’s wicked fingers. Sixteen-year-old Ruth pushed her hips up an inch from the saddle showing the leather wet with her slippery love-dew. Yet she made this movement in order that Laura might intrude her fingers in the younger girl’s cunt-slit and into its very grotto. 

Had you heard the excited, yet frightened little cry which Ruth now uttered as her passion began to overwhelm her, I swear she would quite have melted your heart. She is a young woman with a child’s timidity. Yet what alarmed her most was not the threat of Laura’s gentle lasciviousness but the wildness of her own desires as she was masturbated pitilessly by the slim and pretty girl who stooped over her. 

“Oh, Laura!” she cried imploringly, “Laura! Help me! Help me!” 

For all the world you would have thought that Ruth was crying out to be rescued from some demon ravisher. Yet all the lusty movements and the passionate heat which inflamed the nether lips between her thighs had been of her own devising. Why should she cry for help in this manner? 

…Her despairing cry had another cause. Ruth was well roused but she was still a novice in the art of masturbation. She was in that fearful predicament for a girl of her age, when she longs to come but cannot…..Strung on the rack of desire which stretched her nerves without mercy, she writhed in vain for the bliss of release.

Laura had a true woman’s instinct. Murmuring in Ruth’s ear, she slowed the desperate jigging of the soft pale hips and made her lie still a moment. Laura herself went to the cupboard and presently returned with a thin leather strap, eighteen inches long and several inches broad, split into flat tails at its end. It was nothing but a school spanking-strap…

… She then took the belt from Ruth’s jodhpurs and used it to fasten her down on the wooden horse by her waist, so that the soft young beauty straddled it and hugged its neck. Taking the strap she smacked it hard across the plump cheeks of Ruth’s bottom with a crack that made me wince. Ruth gave a gasp and then a wild cry as the pain sank deep. The rocking horse plunged and reared under her wild squirming. But the strap caught the ass-cheeks of the softly-shaped sixteen-year-old again and again. Across those delicious rear mounds it raised broad paths of bright crimson… Laura thrashed hard so that livid welts appeared across Ruth’s backside almost at once. 

A schoolgirl receives a sound strapping with a school strap very similar to that Laura uses on Ruth tied down across the rocking horse . Observe how the strap moulds it way lovingly around the curves of the exposed buttocks with each stroke.

Asa says that once a post gets up to 10 photos, it can become a little slow, so more next week!

Robyn