In 1958, I started my career as a teacher. After leaving Teacher Training College in Chatlock, a small town in Derbyshire, at the age of 25. I taught at three schools, changing my job at almost regular 5 year intervals, to become Deputy Head of Lady Bakers Girls Grammer School at the age of 40. The Headmistress, a Miss Britton, ruled with a very firm hand and taught me everything I know about the discipline of young women.

At the age of 50, she retired, and I took the job.

That was ten years ago, I am now 60.

Over the years I have corrected the ways of many would be delinquents, and usually you can tell the type. The are almost shrouded in an haughty air of malice.

Over the last three years, four girls have gone into my punishment book more than any others before them, yet, they are four of the nicest, intelligent, polite girls I have come across.

Their bottoms have almost left an indelible imprint on the desk seats in the detention room.

I could write a book on their exploits so far, but no, I have decided to start my account on the first day of term. September 14th 1964.

Over the summer the non teaching staff have created a room almost out of nothing. The prefects already have their own lounge. The Upper Sixth have their own Study Room. But for these four girls I have created their own Detention/Punishment Room. I am determined that by the end of the School Year, when they either leave, or go on to our Sister College, in July 1965, that I will have finally mastered them.

This is an account of that year.

On the second day of term I invited them to the room, next to my study. Most girls would quake at my invitation, but this band of four walked in, after politely knocking on the door, and saying “Good Morning Mr.Jones, we hope you had a good summer”, and more pleasantries.

Can you see what I mean? It is almost like they are greeting a favourite Uncle at the start of a visit.

Here they are.

As always, impeccably dressed, in their bottle green gym slips, green socks, white shirts, and green and silver broad stripe ties, with either plimsols or stout leather black shoes.

I think if I asked you, “Who is the leader of this little gang of four, who is the cheekiest, and rudest?” …not many of you would pick Suzette. To be honest, she has me in stitches quite often, I think she is destined for the stage, and is always the star of the show in the School Pantomime.

The reason the other three are looking at her, is because she is the one who has just said something else, after the the above greeting..

“Thank you for asking Suzette, I have had a lovely summer. You?”

“Brilliant, thank you Sir, I had a boyfriend on Blackpool Beach.”

“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “Please keep private information like that, to yourself. Such matters are not for public issue. Did she mean ‘had’ in a sexual sense, or that she just met her first boy friend on the beach? I decide not to pursue the line of enquiry.

The other three, right to left, Kate, Samantha and Charlotte giggled.

“Quiet girls, show some decorum please.”

It is time you met them.

Here they are. Alphabetically.

Charlotte… a giggler and the one most likely to blurt out a thought before thinking.

Kate…quiet, easily led, but once she has decided to be naughty, she is quite likely to take the lead.

Samantha…looks like a Miss Prim, always impeccable in appearance, and talks with an upper class accent. But beneath the charming exterior, trust me, a very naughty girl lies in waiting…all the time.

And last but not least Suzette…engages mouth before putting brain into gear, inventor of mischief and silly schemes, the leader. A whole bag full of cheek and trouble.

I told the four naughtiest girls in school that I would be watching them, and that this room is theirs for the next school year.

“Oh lovely Sir, thank you, we could hold a little dance in here it is big enough.” Chirped up the minx.

“Oh yes, there could well be some dancing.”

“So it is like we have our own house now, we need a name. perhaps we could be the ‘Beatles House’, after all we are your Fab Four Sir.

I had to chuckle. I told them there was no house name for this room, it is their detention and punishment room. Then I dismissed them…well, three of them.

“Off you go to your class. But not you Suzette.” I said calmly.

After the three had gone I raised my voice…just enough. “Suzette, I like much of your character and do not want to stifle much of it. I know you have a ready wit. But there is a time and place for it, And this is not one of them. Neither the time or place. Not in here. Go to the form, bend over and place your palms of it.”

She walked off in a matter of fact way, and did so.

I followed her, and raised her gm slip.

A good pair of what looked like new, navy blue, regulation school knickers greeted my gaze. I lowered them without saying a word.

Then, using the palm of my hand only, I gave her six crisp hard smacks on each cheek.

I got the punishment book, the first entry went it.

Suzette….hand spanking…..cheekiness…12 smacks.

“Off you go.” I directed.

She pulled her knickers up, smiled at me, and left, closing the varnished wooden door behind her silently.

I stared at it for a couple of minutes, then left as well, back to my study

PART TWO

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Curiosity part 5

Next morning for the ritual gym exercises and run, I pulled up my white newbie shorts and the girls from neighboring dorms teased, “Prissy was a naughty girl, and the crocodile has bitten her bum!”

“Croc! Croc! Croc!”

Adriana the white knight came to the rescue, “Leave her alone!”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

I questioned Lucinda, “How do they know it was the crocodile belt?”

“Because the marks on your thighs wouldn’t be as red with an ordinary belt, and they aren’t wide enough for the tawse, and too wide for the cane.”

“Ah!”

Monica added; “You best not be late for the gym assembly or you will also have palm prints.”

I wasn’t.

While jogging I reflected on the previous evening, my roommates were very helpful with after spanking care. I feel bad to be hiding that I am actually an undercover reporter.

Next was the uniform inspection. It was most humbling to be told to lift my uniform skirt. Everyone could see the marks decorating my thighs because of the shortish kilted skirt, but raising it meant showing the marks escaping my knickers.

I enjoyed breakfast. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to have fried eggs and bacon forever, unless I run at least five miles every morning.

The first class was math and the professor was waiting for me, “Miss Priscilla please join me on the stand with your Punishment Slip.”

I knew that I was blushing as I stood on the stand in front of the class.

I handed my P.Slip. “Please tell us how you were punished for that shameful grade.”

“I was belted, Ma’m.”

“Please give us more details!”

I was given twenty strokes, Ma’am”

“And?”

“It was on the bare, Ma’am.”

After that last detail I felt a hot flush, and must have blushed as red as a fire engine.

“Lets see if you have learned your lesson. Please solve the equation on the blackboard.”

It was surprisingly easy. Having learned the formula sitting on my pillow with a well reddened bum had helped.

Next was French and Madame la prof pulled a martinet out of her satchel. “This is a French martinet it is very useful for encouraging lazy girls.” I had tasted it when in France. It sure wasn’t as severe as a belt and the marks fade in a day or two, but the six leather tails are quite stingy and always had me dancing.

Cheryl failed the French grammar exercise and was called to the blackboard. She again failed. Madame wasn’t too happy, nor was Cheryl when she had her skirt pinned up. The French whippette *teased* her thighs, but it didn’t jolt her French brain cells. Her knickers were lowered, and she blushed as red as a mail box. She got la fessée cul nu au martinet, and she had to write that on the blackboard.

After our afternoon PE class Cheryl and I returned to our dorm room in need of a shower. We were quite surprised to find Lucinda and Monica on their tummies with their skirts up and bare bum adorned with vividly purple stripes.

“What happened?”

“We were caught cheating, and we were caned, sniff, sniff.”

Cheryl understood that her encounter with the martinet didn’t compare with the cane, and she helped us prepare cold flannels. Meanwhile I gathered our soothing cream and Arnica gel. I noticed on their bed a paper ribbon with 7 red plaited stars. “What are those for?”

They answered in turn, “We are to stitch them onto the front of our knickers, on the right hand front side.”

“Next time we are punished it will mean an extra stroke.”

“An extra stroke per star whatever the implement used.”

“And in the case of a hand spanking an extra spank?”

“Hahahaha! Silly bizom! An extra dozen smacks.”

“And an extra six if the martinet.”

“Ouch!”

We helped them stitch their stars.

Later I was up in the middle of the night and in the loos to type my report on my cellphone. Alex had left a text message, “The boss is real proud of his daughter, and no bonus for the belt!”

Priscilla

To be continued…

./.

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