"Six of the Best for Sammie" [Written by S. Mack]
It was a cold January afternoon, and Sammie Jones of Bourton School for Girls chewed at the end of her pencil as she copied into her exercise book, the notes that the History teacher had chalked up on the blackboard. It was just after 2 o’clock and the only sound that could be heard in the classroom that afternoon, was the gentle murmur of schoolgirl voices as the lesson progressed. It was all so boring - 1066 and the Battle of Hastings held little fascination for Sammie, in fact she didn’t really enjoy history at all and could quite cheerfully have laid her head on the hard wooden desk and dozed off. Suddenly the sleepy schoolgirl was jerked into wakefulness as the classroom door opened and headmistress Miss Blackmore stepped over the threshold. The girls all stood politely as she entered, but the Head gestured for them to sit down again with a dismissive wave of the hand. The girls’ History teacher Mrs Protheroe greeted her senior colleague with a smile, and then after a briefly whispered discussion, walked with her out into the corridor. Thirty seconds later Mrs Protheroe re-entered the room and looked over towards Sammie, seated a couple of rows from the back. ‘Samantha,’ she called. ‘Miss Blackmore would like a word with you in the corridor - immediately please.’
Everyone in the room turned round and regarded Sammie curiously – Blackers (the girl’s nickname for their headmistress) hadn’t looked at all pleased. Samantha thought so too. ‘Golly, I wonder what’s eating her?’ she thought. She was soon to find out.
Miss Blackmore looked severe as the blonde haired pupil met up with her on the other side of the classroom door.
‘Samantha, have you been smoking?’ enquired the Head. Sammy gaped in astonishment and didn’t immediately respond to the question. ‘Mr McGilvray the caretaker, claims to have observed you smoking behind the bicycle shed, is he correct?’
‘Yes miss, I’m really sorry.’
‘Are you aware that smoking is expressly forbidden and considered to be a very severe breach of school regulations?’
‘Y-yes but…’
‘Then I fail to understand why you have been caught smoking on school premises. Tell me; are there any cigarettes in your possession now?’
‘I still have two in my satchel Miss.’
‘Bring them here at once.’
Sammie swallowed hard as she blushingly made the short journey back to her desk, doing her utmost to ignore the fascinated gaze of all the other occupants in the room. The cigarettes were hurriedly retrieved from her satchel and handed to the headmistress who remained looking rather grim outside in the corridor.
‘Absolutely disgraceful!’ barked Miss Blackmore. ‘These horrid objects will be confiscated and immediately destroyed. Now get back to your lesson and report to me in my study at close of school this afternoon.’
Sammie returned to her desk, feeling rather shaken. How could she have been so utterly foolish and allow herself to be caught red-handed like this? She hadn’t actually enjoyed smoking that first cigarette. Unfortunately (like with so many other children) the temptation to try smoking had got the better of her. Making up her mind to experiment out of sight of both parents, she had gone to her grandfather’s cigarette case and helped herself to three of his finest before setting off for school that morning. During playtime, Sammie had sneaked behind the bicycle shed where she believed it would be possible to light-up completely unobserved and without interruption. Unfortunately for her, Mr McGilvray had spotted the crafty young smoker from his bungalow situated near the school gates. He had earned the soubriquet of Camel from the juvenile occupants of the school, although Sammie wasn’t quite sure why - perhaps it was because he was so incredibly tall and always went about his duties with a rather melancholy expression on his face? To be truthful, Mr McGilvray didn’t fully understand the way schoolgirl’s minds worked: he often felt completely baffled by some of their high-spirited antics and felt duty-bound to report any unauthorised or suspicious goings-on to his employer. Also in the past, other girls had frequently made their way to the rear of the bike shed to puff away on a surreptitious cigarette, in the mistaken belief that they were doing so well away from the disapproving gaze of the powers that be.
By the time the history lesson had come to an end, it appeared that the whole school had been apprised of the news regarding Sammie Jones sneaking contraband on to the premises. Sammie did her best to maintain an air of aloofness and not appear flustered, as several pupils clustered round her all agog for information about Miss Blackmore’s reaction to what appeared to be - the crime of the century.
‘What did she say?’ squeaked Heather Blenkinsop - the youngest girl in the school. ‘Bet she puts you in detention and gets you to write out, “I must not bring ciggies to school” millions and millions of times.’
‘No, she’ll probably get six of the best with the whangee.’ suggested Carol Marchant, a rather plump girl from the fifth form.
‘Ooh yes whops - swish, swish.’ laughed Heather as she pranced around swishing an imaginary cane through the air.
‘Pay no heed to them Sam.’ whispered Linda Brookes – Sammie’s best friend. ‘You’ve not been in serious bother before, so Blackers will probably let you off with just a caution this time. But how ever did she find out about you bringing smokes into class?’
‘Camel saw me having a drag behind the bike sheds and then went and snitched to Blackers.’
‘Coo jolly well not fair - what a frightful rotter old Camel is! But surely you know what he’s like? Honestly Sam, you must be cuckoo allowing to him to see you like that.’
I didn’t exactly allow him to see me. I thought he would be working in the boiler room, but he must have spotted me out of his bungalow window.’ replied Sammie miserably.
At that moment the school bell rang and everyone trotted back into the building for the final lesson of the afternoon. This time it was English – Sammie Jones’s favourite subject, however the unfortunate schoolgirl found it very difficult to concentrate on the task in hand that afternoon. What would old Blackers do? Perhaps she’d write a letter to her parents protesting in the strongest possible terms about their daughter’s criminal activity? How awful – Daddy would probably have a fit? Perhaps she’d be suspended? Oh gosh – if only this afternoon’s English lesson would never come to an end!
However the lesson did come to an end, and as they walked out of class, Linda did her best once again to soothe her friend with a few well-chosen words. ‘Maybe you’ll get two hundred lines – so what – they won’t take you long to write out.’
‘Maybe.’ replied Sammie in a sad voice. ‘Oh well, better face the music and get it over with’.
Upon her arrival at the door of Miss Blackmore’s study, she tapped very timidly on its varnished surface. ‘Who is it?’ enquired a voice from within.
‘Please miss – it’s Samantha Jones.’
‘Wait outside Samantha, I am on the telephone.’
Sammie swallowed hard for the second time that afternoon and went and sat down on a bench situated alongside the wall of the corridor. At the far end of the corridor was the staff room, and at that moment the door opened and out came Mrs Sykes the school secretary. She cast a knowing glance at the very worried-looking individual, who sat fidgeting as she awaited a rather unpleasant interview with her headmistress. ‘Have you been naughty?’ she asked.
‘Cripes – can this get anymore embarrassing’ thought Sammie, who suddenly felt like bursting into tears. Unable to find speech for the moment, she confined herself to a brief nod of the head. Mrs Sykes smiled sympathetically and disappeared inside the office, closing the door quietly behind her.
It seemed like an age before Miss Blackmore’s study door opened. This was a deliberate ploy on the part of the rather formidable occupant, who considered that Samantha Jones should have ample time to reflect on such an unforgiveable misdeed. As soon as the girl sighted the headmistress, her heart sank and the whole corridor and its surroundings appeared to swim before her very eyes. Miss Blackmore was flexing a rather whippy looking school cane, which had a crooked handle at one end.
‘Come into my study Samantha.’ snapped the smartly-dressed head teacher; clad in her customary black gown. She then led the way inside, one arm placed firmly around the hapless schoolgirl’s shoulders. Sammie remained speechless as they both entered, however she didn’t fail to notice that a hard-backed wooden chair had been placed in the centre of the room.
‘Samantha, you admitted earlier this afternoon that you are fully aware, that smoking on school premises is considered to be a very serious breach of regulations. Are your parents also aware that you smoke?’
‘No miss. I’ve never smoked before – honestly miss. I borrowed three from Granddad this morning, tried one and was going to give the others back cos I didn’t like the taste and they made me cough.’
‘Are you saying you took those cigarettes without you grandfather’s permission?’
‘Err, yes miss.’ gulped Sammie, gazing down at her well-polished shoes with shame-faced embarrassment.
Miss Blackmore pursed her lips and gave a shake of the head after hearing this latest confession - it was several seconds before she found speech again.
‘Here at Bourton, we pride ourselves on our very high standards. We expect all pupils to set a good example and abide by a basic code of rules. Anyone who flouts those rules may expect to be dealt with accordingly. Normally I don’t approve of corporal punishment – indeed I very rarely employ it in the day-to-day running of our school. However, under the circumstances…’
Miss Blackmore left the sentence unfinished and strode over to her desk, opened a drawer and took out a fountain pen and the school’s punishment book. She opened the book and made the following entry: 15th January - Samantha Jones – six strokes for smoking. Then she removed her gown, hung it on a coat rack by the window, picked up the cane and walked towards the middle of the room and sat in the chair. She then calmly addressed the now very pale schoolgirl; who had been anxiously watching her every movement.
‘You haven’t received a caning before have you? No, well I can assure you that after the punishment has been administered, you will think twice before ever bringing cigarettes into school again. I’m sure your grandfather would also disapprove if he knew you had taken them from him without permission. Very well Samantha, come over here and lie face down across my lap. Before doing so - kindly slip your shoes off.’
Feeling very nervous indeed, the condemned schoolgirl did exactly as instructed. She took a very deep breath and positioned herself across the waiting headmistresses’ knee.
* * * *
PICTURE GOES HERE
(During the next few minutes, an extremely uncomfortable scene took place: Sammie herself takes up the story and this is how it was related to her friends in the years to come.)
I thought to myself as I lay staring down at the carpet in Blackers’ study, ‘Gosh, fancy being put over her knee like a silly little kid.’ Then received an even bigger shock, when the horrible cow lifted my skirt and petticoat. She then began tugging away at the waistband of my bottle-green school knickers. I reached back with one hand to stop her, but she said in a very stern voice. ‘Take your hand away immediately. You shall receive six strokes of the cane - on the bare bottom!’
Hearing those chilling words scared me silly, but I was determined that how ever much the caning hurt, old Blackers wasn’t going to have the satisfaction of making me cry. So I shut my eyes really tightly as she pulled my knickers down. It seemed like ages before the whacking started: everything seemed to go quiet except for the clock ticking on the wall. Then there was this swishing sound and then a crack as rattan cane struck bare flesh. At first I didn’t appear to feel anything much, but then this terrific burning pain started building up in my bottom. Honestly – you wouldn’t believe how much it hurt. Then she thrashed me again – swish - crack… I tried really hard not to yell or let Miss Blackmore see how much pain she was causing me, but I just couldn’t help it and began bawling like a baby. Again, after a pause of several seconds… swish – crack… It was agony and I wriggled and squirmed trying to pull myself up and get away from her. Not a single word was spoken, but Blackers’ hand was placed firmly in the middle of my back holding me down. Swish – crack... ‘HOWL!’ swish – crack... ‘OWWW!’ gosh did it hurt, and my legs were kicking away like mad (probably why she’d got me to take my shoes off?) After the fifth stroke, she hesitated for a few seconds and I thought for a moment that she must have finished caning me, but then a voice said, ‘One more to come.’ And finally, swish – crack... I must have yelled like the dickens, but at least my punishment was over.
‘You may get up now Samantha.’ said Blackers. ‘Pull up your pants, and then you’re free to leave my study as soon as you’ve composed yourself. And before you set off for home, you may wish to consider giving your face a really good wash first.’
‘Yes miss.’ I snuffled, and immediately limped out of her study and into the corridor where I stopped and tried to rub the pain away from my burning backside. Approaching the cloakroom, I discovered that Linda had been sitting there waiting for me all the time. She gazed up at me sadly.
‘She gave you whops?’
I nodded, with tears still streaming down my face.
‘How many did you get?’
‘Six - knickers down. Gosh Linda, she didn’t half lay them on – I won’t be able to sit down for ages…’
Linda stood up and put her arms around me. ‘Poor old you.’ she whispered. ‘Come along Sam, let’s get you home.’
ACCOUNT NUMBER 1 - Mrs. Rebecca Thomas - On the discipline of children
Disciplining children? Well, as I have always said, children need to obey their elders. Children need to follow the rules and be respectful. And if they are unruly, punishment must ensue. Yes, I punished my children. I was an older mother, a wise mother. I knew how to raise children. My children knew that if they disobeyed me, I had my paddle. And I definitely used that paddle, it didn't just sit on the shelf for looks. I remember one time, my daughter Alice was being unruly. She was 15 years old, a teenager, and a sassy one at that. She had disobeyed me after I told her to do the dishes. It was her job to do the dishes that night, one of her chores. She told me "I'll do it mother." But apparently she was lying, because the next thing I knew she was gone, at her friends house down the street, the dishes still dirty. So I waited for her to get home. The minute she did, I called her over and showed her the dishes. I asked her "Alice, why did you disobey?" She said "I didn't disobey, I will do them later." "You'll do them now." I told her. "Mom, I need to grab something and go back to Julie's house." "No, you are not going back there," I said, "because you failed to do your chore, you will not go back there tonight. Now go clean the dishes." She looked at me and said a resounded "No! Just leave me alone! I'll do them!" I stared her down, it was a stalemate, but I was her mother and I had the final say. "I don't have to listen to you, mother! You are stupid! You don't know anything! I'm going to Julie's and I'll clean when I damn well please!" What arrogance and disobedience from her. The paddle was meant for the bottoms of unruly children, and even at 15 years old, Alice was showing that she was still an unruly child. "Okay, you asked for it young lady." I said. I walked over to the shelf and grabbed my paddle. "No! Don't give me a spanking, mother!" Alice said. Her bottom needed a paddling, a good paddling. Naughty bottoms need to be spanked, the spirit of rebelliousness needs to be quelled. I didn't budge, it was time to dish out some discipline. I am old fashioned, but good fashioned. The way to stop a rebellious child is by paddling their bottom until they submit to your authority. It needs to hurt. It needs to be very unpleasant. But it will work. I hadn't used my paddle in a year to that point. But it was time. "Pull those jeans down!" I told her. "Why?" She asked. "Because this needs to hurt. And pull your panties down as well, this is going to be on your bare bottom." Alice whimpered, not wanting to accept her punishment. But she knew I meant business. So down her jeans went. She turned to me. "My panties too? Mother, that is going to hurt so much though!" "That is the point, dear. Pull them down. And turn around." Alice obeyed, sliding her panties down, just enough for her bare bottom to be out. I placed my arm on the small of her back and bent her over enough to be into proper spanking position. I aimed my paddle, and with a steady and true aim, I swatted her bare bottom, both of her cheeks, with a loud SMACK resonating through the air. Alice let out a scream. "It hurts, doesn't it? Alice, this is for being naughty. Naughty children in my house get spanked, you know that! Take your swats like a good girl and it will be over soon." I raised up the paddle and Alice put her hand in the way. "If you don't move that hand, the swat doesn't count!" "How many am I getting, mother?" "You are getting ten swats." "Ten?" She was sad to know her fate. But I had to follow through. This would make an impact, that is for sure. So I started spanking her, paddling that little bottom. Half way through I could see the red marks on her bottom. It must have been stinging and burning like nothing else. But I had to do my duty to discipline her. I am stern, as you can tell. I didn't care that it hurt, it was her fault for earning it. So I finished the spanking, her screaming through the rest of the way. Tears streamed down her face. After I finished, she danced around, rubbing her bottom vigorously. I knew it was effective. She was crying like a child. Now she knows that insolence will be dealt with with a paddle to the bare bottom. It wasn't her first spanking, far from that, but it was an impactful one. She knew I was in charge.
ACCOUNT NUMBER 2 - Alice Thomas - On the discipline of children
Discipline, huh? Well, obviously, kids need to be disciplined. If kids have no discipline, they will grow up to be brats. But that is no reason to be an ultra strict parent. Discipline must be done with a tender and loving heart. Sometimes a time-out can go a long way. Taking away toys, even lectures. They all are what parents should do now. I have two children, 9 and 3. And when they disobey me, I sit down with them and talk to them. I find out why they disobeyed. And I work with them to figure out ways to behave better. And it works. My children are angels. Was I disciplined as a child? Definitely. It wasn't any simple time-outs for me. My mom had a paddle. It lurked up on a shelf, glaring at us. My stomach would drop every time I saw her grab it. I knew my butt would be on fire. Spanking is so old fashioned. I would never spank. However, I grew up when old fashioned was in fashion. So yeah, I got the paddle. I got my butt spanked. I remember one time, my mom apparently wanted me to do the dishes, even though it wasn't my night to do them. So I told her I would. I planned on it. But my friend called me and told me that something was on TV we had been waiting for forever. And since my mother didn't have the channel on our television set, I went to my friend's house. I didn't tell my mom because she wouldn't understand. It was a once in a life time thing! I won't even go into what the show was, because its embarrassing. Anyway, I ran back to grab something for the show (we were real fans, I needed a certain outfit), but my mother was waiting, looking angry. "Is something wrong, mom?" I asked. She looked like she was about to explode. "Dishes!" She said to me, very harshly. "I know, mom, I'll do them, don't worry." "I told you to do them!" She yelled. "I know. But mom, I have to watch this. Its commercial break. We've been waiting forever for this night!" "You do not disobey me, young lady!" She was being ridiculous. So I told her, "Mom, you don't know what this is all about! This is an important night for us! Just, let me go and I'll clean the dishes when I get back. You wouldn't now how awesome this is!" "That's it!" My mom yelled. She marched over to the paddle. I thought, "You've got to be kidding me. I'm getting a spanking! Tonight!" I hadn't gotten spanked in a while, so I forgot how much it was going to hurt. My mom told me to pull my jeans down and turn around. I asked her "Why?" She said something ridiculous about how naughty children get paddled or something like that, she obviously forgot I was 15! But nevertheless, I knew if I was going to get to see the rest, I would have to take my paddling and hope to be let go. So I turned around and she told me to pull my panties down too. My face blushed. I didn't want my mom seeing my bare butt! That was embarrassing! But she demanded I pull them down. So I did, just barely, enough to satisfy her. But I could feel her staring at my butt. I was humiliated, especially when she pushed on my back, bending me over. My bare butt was sticking out and I was hoping it would be over soon. She told me how much it was going to hurt, but I didn't want to believe her. So she gave me a swat. I screamed, not ready for it. It hurt! I knew I was going to be in some pain. So I bit my lip and took the spanking. The paddle wailed on my butt, over and over again. I think she gave me 20 spanks! I must have looked ridiculous, bent over like that, getting my bare butt paddled. I was crying too, I think. I know, I was 15, but it hurt! It hurt a bunch! I felt like a little girl again, as my mom gave me a, yes, a spanking. A spanking. I think the idea of spanking is embarrassing, I can't believe people still do it. My mom was not the trend setter, surprisingly. Julie was sympathetic when I snuck out and went to her house after. I found out that night that her parents kept a paddle tucked away too.But she was surprised my mom actually used it. She claimed her parents rarely used it, and only when she was little. I felt like a child that night, but I enjoyed our show, I just had to sit on my knees the whole night. I can't believe people think spanking is acceptable. I was raised old school, and looking back, I wish I was treated more like an adult. I would have taken more responsibility. But, oh well. I still love my mother, even though she spanked the living daylights out of me. Her and that wooden paddle that sits on the shelf. She was right though, naughty children in her house get their bottoms paddled. She even paddled my niece for lying, I heard. When will she finally retire that old paddle?
"Marie-Gabrielle Education" [Written by Siegfried]
"Marie-Gabrielle Education" [Written by Siegfried]
"Schoolroom Battle"
"Shhhh. Alice, you're gonna get us in trouble!" Alice giggles as her friend tries to shove away her chalk slate with a funny picture of their teacher, old Mrs. Abagail drawn on it. Alice erases the chalk picture and begins with another one. Meanwhile, Mrs. Abagail teaches away, drawing math equations on a chalkboard. The students, both boys and girls, feign their eyes to the front pretending to care. After all, it was spring time, when the warm weather brought with it loads and loads of fun opportunities for play. If it wasn't for school. All the children hated it. But Mrs. Abagail was determined that all her students learned and behaved. Alice finishes her next masterpiece, this time Mrs. Abagail kissing a horse, and her friend giggles. Mrs. Abagail turns back, hearing it. Fortunately, the giggling stopped in time and Mrs. Abagail went back to her tedious equations. "Relax," Alice whispers, "nothing is going to happen." "Remember last week when George got a spanking?" "A spanking? Mrs. Abagail only spanks boys." It was true. Mrs. Abagail had something against boys, maybe one had broken her heart decades earlier, or maybe her own children had given her a hard time (she had only boys, three of them). She was always easier on the girls. Alice knew this and had constantly butted heads with her. Alice begins her third drawing as Mrs. Abagail begins to assign homework. By the time she finishes, Abagail has finished the crude version of what is to be her best work, Mrs. Abagail rotting in a jail cell with a noose hanging outside, quite morbid for a girl to come up with. Alice shows this to her friend and her friend cannot help but burst out in laughter. "Girls!" Mrs. Abagail yells. "What is so funny?" "Nothing." Alice says, smiling. "Alice, you have been quite pest these last two weeks. Keep it down back there." Alice smiles. Suddenly, a boy walks by and sees the drawing, grabbing the slate and holding it in the air. This boy had been snubbed by Alice earlier when he asked if she wanted to be his girlfriend, shyly. "Mrs. Abagail! Look what Alice did!" Mrs. Abagail walks back to Alice and the boy. She grabs the slate and studies it intently with her four eyes. "Alice? Is this supposed to be funny?" "Its you in jail cause you gave us too much homework!" For some reason the class all starts laughing. "Oh, really? And you think disrupting class because I am actually trying to teach you is more legal than me giving you homework?" Alice tries to comprehend her comeback. "That's stupid!" She geniusly replies. "What would your mother and father think of this language!" Alice smiles. "They let me say what I want! They would even let me call you an old winch!" The classroom sighs in horror. You can see Mrs. Abagail's blood boiling. But she manages to relax herself. However, discipline was on her mind. "Come with me, young lady, to the front of the class." Mrs. Abagail grabs Alice's arm and brings her to the front of the room, all the boys and girls watching intently. "Bend over my desk." "What?" Alice says shyly. "You are going to get a spanking, bend over my desk." Alice obeys, resting her upper body on the wooden desk. Mrs. Abagail pulls out a ruler. "In all my years of teaching I've never had to spank a girl, but you're going to be the first!" Mrs. Abagail moves into position next to Alice. She lifts Alice's dress up, exposing her white panties. The boys in the class giggle. "Children in my classroom need to respect me. Boy or girl, if you misbehave that way, you'll need a sound spanking." Mrs. Abagail raises the ruler skyward. "Now Alice, this is going to hurt, as you can imagine. Ready? You'll receive 5 licks then you'll return to your desk." Alice manages to squeeze out an "I'm sorry," just as Mrs. Abagail swings down. The ruler cracks hard on her bottom. Alice recoils in pain, letting out a small scream. "That's one." Mrs. Abagail gives a second equally hard spank to the bottom. Alice screams again, this time tears coming down her cheeks. "You have three more. Ready?" Alice doesn't answer, crying. A third spank lands hard on her bottom and Alice screams, kicking her legs, the desk supporting her. George yells out, "Alice! You're such a baby!" George had forgotten that he cried a little too, but had a point that she was perhaps overreacting, or maybe it really did hurt that much. A fourth spank sends shivers down the class's spine, as Alice is now nearly bawling from the pain. "Last one, ready? This one is going to be extra hard." Mrs. Abagail swings with all her might spanking Alice's bottom. The ruler snaps in half. The class is amazed and Alice immediately gets up and runs around in a circle clenching her bottom and rubbing it vigorously with her hands. Alice eventually composes herself and Mrs. Abagail walks her to the seat. "Now, the ruler may be broken, but I'm not opposed to turning you over my knee and giving you a good hand spanking either. So behave yourself!" Mrs.. Abagail walks back to her desk. She pulls out a paper with a shopping list. She writes with her ink pen the words "rulers 3x."
"Jade- The Second Spanking" [Written by Siegfried]
"Jade- The Second Spanking" [Written by Siegfried]
"Two Good Reasons to Get a Spanking" [Written by Siegfried]
"Pfff !!!" sighs , the daughter exasperated.
The mother looks angrily her daughter.
"Patricia, I remind you , that your punishment will finish only at Friday.
You know, I am always angry about how you talked to me on sunday.
You have only just escaped to a good spanking.which for my point of view would be well deserved.
You can thank your father who proposed that the punishment will be to help me in house during one week, to give you a chance.
But don't forget what he says : if something is wrong a new time in your behaviour, you'll get the spanking."
Patricia lowers her eyes.
The mothers continues her telling off :
"Look at me , when I am talking to you !!!
You know what ?
I am waiting with impatience the next time.
For the moment , my only dream is to give you a good spanking
So, Patricia obeys and clean the table.
In the kitchen , she starts to wash dishes.
"An Overactive Imagination Earns Painful Castigation" [Written by S. Mack]
"An Overactive Imagination Earns Painful Castigation" [Written by S. Mack]
Elizabeth, only child of Colonel Charles Bentley-Carr and his wife Judith, walked home from school one afternoon accompanied by her closest friends Julia Butt and Patricia Elliot. The three girls were chatting merrily about the fact that the school holidays would be starting at the end of the week - then they would be free to spend the day exactly how they wished for a whole fortnight. No homework and no more shouted commands to ‘BE QUIET GIRLS.’ from Miss Bulstrode, their rather stern form mistress.
The friends had reached the small road bridge, which crossed the river on the outskirts of the village. Patricia and Julia’s homes were situated only a couple of hundred yards or so from this point: Elizabeth lived in a large cottage about a quarter of a mile further on.
‘I say, let’s go and sit by the water for a bit and share these apples I’ve got in my satchel.’ said Elizabeth. ‘They come from Dad’s orchard.’
‘Very well, but we’ll have to be jolly quick about it.’ replied Julia dubiously. ‘Mother said I mustn’t be late and besides that, I can’t swim and she’s not at all keen on me going near the river.’
‘Your mother worries far too much.’ laughed Elizabeth as she led the way down to the river bank. The girls munched away at their apples as they sat alongside the water’s edge. When the impromptu picnic was over, Julia was the first to jump to her feet.
‘Well I’ll have to be going, Mother will already be wondering where I’ve got to.’
‘I say, look out for that cow pat!’ warned Patricia. Startled – Julia leapt to one side, skidded on a damp patch of grass and promptly tumbled feet first into the river. Luckily the water wasn’t deep at the spot where she fell in, and she was able to quickly haul herself back onto dry land.
‘Oh golly!’ said Patricia, looking aghast at the rather bedraggled figure standing in front of her.
‘What am I going to do? Mum will hit the roof!’ wailed Julia.
‘Gosh, we’ll have to get you home quick. Honestly Jules you’re such a donkey – what did you want to go and fall in for?’ Elizabeth demanded.
‘I didn’t want to fall in.’ hissed Julia through clenched teeth. ‘I tried to avoid stepping in cow dung and lost my footing.’
As Elizabeth was the self-appointed leader and spokesperson for the trio, she quickly took control of the situation.
‘Well accidents will happen. We’ll walk home with you and tell your mother that some horrid boy pushed you in or something. She can’t be furious with you then can she?’
Julia felt rather doubtful about the wisdom or accuracy of this suggestion, but unable to come up with a better idea, nodded in agreement. All three schoolgirls then set off, walking in the direction of Julia’s modest-sized cottage. What would normally have been a very short stroll seemed to take an age as the unwilling bather squelched miserably homewards. Her school skirt was saturated and clung to her legs with every footstep – she was also beginning to feel rather cold.
As soon as the children arrived at the cottage gate, they saw Mrs Butt waiting at anxiously at the front door. The anxious look quickly changed to one of horror as soon as she caught sight of her very wet daughter.
‘Where on earth have you been? What’s happened?’ she cried.
Observing the agitated state Mrs Butt was in, Elizabeth suddenly felt that her prearranged story might not sound quite so credible after all, but decided that it was too late to back out now and gave it her best shot.
‘Ooh err, a boy pushed Julia into the river Mrs Butt.’
‘What? Who is this boy?’ Where did he go?’
Elizabeth found it rather hard to cope with this barrage of questioning and also felt distinctly uncomfortable about having to tell lies, but answered as best she could.
‘Don’t know – we haven’t seen him before.’
Mrs Butt looked searchingly at her daughter.
‘Is this true darling?’
Julia nodded dumbly.
‘Well get inside and change out of those wet clothes, or you’ll catch your death of cold. You better get into a hot bath as well.’
Mrs Butt then turned to Elizabeth and Patricia.
‘Thank you for bringing her home girls, you’d better go home now. Goodbye.’
As the pair walked back along the garden path towards the gate, Patricia turned to Elizabeth and said in hushed tones.
‘I don’t think she believed you. You looked really guilty whilst stuffing her up with all that nonsense about some strange boy. Honestly Liz, you must be bats...’
‘She can’t prove a thing – what does she know?’ replied Elizabeth scornfully.
However the afternoon’s events had left her feeling rather shaken and she wanted to get home as soon as possible and try to forget all about it. The pair walked the rest of the way to Patricia’s house; where they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.
When Elizabeth finally arrived home, she walked into the living room where both parents appeared to be busily occupied with various tasks or hobbies. Her father was pouring brandy into his favourite crystal decanter, whilst her mother concentrated on her embroidery. Mrs Bentley-Carr looked up from her work and smiled.
‘Did you have a good day at school dear?’
‘Not too bad thanks.’
‘You’re rather late, is everything alright child?’ asked her father.
‘I’m fine thanks. I’m just going to pop upstairs to my room and get changed.’
After Elizabeth had closed the door behind her, Charles Bentley-Carr turned to his wife and said, ‘Hmmm, rather odd. Did you form the impression that Elizabeth seemed rather agitated about something my dear?’
‘Not especially, maybe she’s in too much of a hurry to go out into the garden, or visit one of her friends?’
‘Maybe so, maybe so. She’ll undoubtedly tell us if something is troubling her. Anyway, I think I’ll pour myself a glass of this excellent brandy – care for one yourself old thing?’
‘No thank you. It’s a bit too early in the day for me Charles, but you go ahead and help yourself.’
After he had poured his drink, the Colonel was interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing. He sipped half the contents of his brandy balloon before picking up the receiver.
‘Hello, Bentley-Carr here. Who? Oh hello Mrs Butt, how are you? Yes, Elizabeth has just arrived home. What’s that? Are you quite certain? Good heavens! Yes, yes, I shall speak to her immediately. Yes – thank you. Goodbye.’
Mrs Bentley-Carr looked enquiringly at her husband.
‘Something the matter dear?’
The Colonel was silent for a moment. Then slowly poured another brandy before lowering himself into an armchair.
‘That was young Julia’s mother complaining about our mischievous offspring telling her some fantastic tale earlier on. Apparently Julia accidentally fell into the river after school today. Elizabeth and Patricia Elliot escorted her home, and then apparently Elizabeth attempted to cover the true facts of the matter by telling lies about an unknown boy shoving the child into the water.’
‘Really, are you sure?’
‘The woman was quite adamant. Apparently after Elizabeth and Patricia had left, Mrs Butt enquired more deeply into the matter and young Julia confessed all. It would appear that the girl has been told in the past not to go anywhere near the river without adult supervision.’
Colonel Charles Bentley-Carr took another thoughtful sip brandy, before going to the living room door and making his way to the bottom of the staircase.
‘Elizabeth. Come down here this instant!’ he barked.
Elizabeth was in her bedroom when the military-style summons shattered the peaceful afternoon.
‘Oh golly.’ she breathed, and then trudged slowly back downstairs. As she re-entered the living room her mother gazed at her enquiringly. Her father who was standing by the fireplace just glared - his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his plus fours. No doubt about it – he was in angry mood.
‘Elizabeth. That was Mrs Butt on the ‘phone. She tells me that you made up some cock and bull story about a boy pushing Julia into the river, when in actual fact the girl fell in by accident. Is this true?’
Elizabeth gazed down at the floor and nodded.
‘Darling why?’ asked her mother.
‘I thought it would save Julia from getting into trouble Mummy. I thought if we pretended a boy had pushed her in, then her mother wouldn’t be quite so cross and blame Julia for ruining her clothes.’
Judith Bentley-Carr gave an understanding nod. She was several years her husband’s junior and therefore fully cognizant about the workings of the juvenile mind. She was also aware that occasionally, an over-active imagination could dream up fantastic ideas that had a tendency to leave the older generation dumbfounded. This particularly applied to her husband, who appeared to be in the grip of some powerful emotion. His face had turned rather purple and for a moment he remained speechless. Eventually he found voice again.
‘Never heard such a fantastic story in all me life. Get back to your room immediately child. I’ll join you there in a few minutes and give you a jolly good thrashing!’
Elizabeth said nothing, but ran quickly from the room looking very pale indeed. She was well aware that when Daddy talked about administering a sound thrashing, it would very likely involve the use of a stout leather belt applied with a good deal of vigour to a tender bare bottom. On a previous occasion when she had been rather naughty, he had issued a stern warning that if at anytime he caught her seriously misbehaving in future, that’s how he would deal with the matter. Thinking about her misdeeds earlier this afternoon - these would undoubtedly come under her father’s definition of serious misbehaviour.
As Elizabeth traipsed upstairs to her room, she heard her mother plea for mercy on her behalf.
‘Charles, please don’t take your belt to her. Elizabeth has been very silly I know, but try not to be too hard.’
‘Humph! Show a little mercy as it’s her first serious offence you mean – eh what? A dose of the belt would do her the world of good in my opinion, but as you insist my dear, I’ll reserve it for a future occasion. However this is still a serious matter and the child has to be punished.’
‘Y-eees, but…’
The Colonel patted his wife’s hand reassuringly as she sat down to resume her embroidery once again. It was pointless arguing any further and she heaved a sigh as the living room door closed once again. Judith was a gentle person and would have preferred her husband to be more lenient with their only child. However, Elizabeth had undoubtedly behaved with remarkable stupidity…
As soon as she had returned to her room, Elizabeth wasn’t kept very long for what promised to be an uncomfortable rendezvous with her father. As she heard him slowly clumping his way up the stairs, a horrible sinking feeling developed in the pit of her stomach and tears began to trickle down her face. She stood back as he opened the door and seated himself on the bed. He gazed at her for a while and appeared lost in thought, as if back in the good old days planning some kind of military strategy. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm once again.
‘Well Elizabeth, I hope by now that you fully realise that I will not tolerate lying under any circumstances. You are normally a polite and well behaved child, and your mother and I are very proud of you. Can you imagine how disappointing it has been for us to receive a complaint about you telling the most extraordinary lies to an acquaintance this afternoon?’
‘Yes Daddy. I’m truly sorry and it will never happen again, I promise.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it my dear, and it is right and proper that you have apologised. However, I cannot allow such behaviour to go unpunished and so I intend to give you a jolly good spanking. ’
Elizabeth gazed at her father pleadingly and did her best to persuade him to be merciful.
‘No Daddy – please don’t spank me!’
‘No arguments Elizabeth – come here immediately!’
Colonel Bentley-Carr put his hands around his tearful daughter’s shoulders, drew the trembling child towards him and gently guided her across his lap. Elizabeth cried softly as the preliminaries for a jolly good spanking were taking place. Her father had seldom found it necessary to spank her in the past, but when he did, those spankings really hurt. The little girl’s cries became intensified as she felt her skirt and slip being pushed up over her lower back and her panties pulled down to just above the knee. Gazing down at the small white buttocks, the Colonel shifted his position slightly so as to spank his daughter as firmly as possible. As soon as he was ready, he raised his right hand into the air then brought it down again with a resounding SMACK! The effect was instantaneous - Elizabeth’s whole body shot forward with a jerk and she gasped loudly. Then after a pause of several seconds:
Smack… ‘Ow!’
Smack… ‘Owww!’
Smack… ‘Ouch!’
Smack… ‘Bawl!’
Smack… ‘Waaah!’
By now, Elizabeth was feeling that the smarting pain in her bottom was becoming a bit too much to bear, and she twisted and turned in a vain attempt to get away from the powerful hand that was causing her so much distress.
Smack… ‘Waaahh!’
Smack… ‘Howl! Daddy no more - PLEASE…!’
The Colonel was unmoved by the anguished plea for mercy and remained completely silent. He was a man who held strong beliefs about firm discipline, and continued spanking slowly and methodically.
Smack… ‘Eeeeeeeeee!’
Elizabeth writhed as she lay across her father’s lap. Her legs kicked frantically at the open air and she shot out a hand in a vain attempt to stop any more spanks landing on that vulnerable, naked bottom. Yet again the Colonel said nothing and merely adjusted his position for three more blows:
Smack…
Smack…
Smack…
The unfortunate recipient howled piteously throughout. After spank number twelve had been administered, the Colonel decided that Elizabeth had been punished enough. The diminutive buttocks, which only a few moments ago had had a creamy white appearance, now looked positively crimson.
‘Very well Elizabeth, you have had a good spanking and I hope it has been a lesson to you. I had intended to give you a sound thrashing with a leather belt, but your mother dissuaded me from doing so. However if ever I hear about you telling fibs to friends or family again, I’ll – I’ll – well you better hadn’t…’
The well-punished schoolgirl was unable to voice an intelligible response. She sobbed uncontrollably whilst remaining draped across her mature parent’s knee: skirt bunched up over her back and navy blue school knickers knotted around her thighs.
‘Sob – gulp!’
‘Eh – what’s that?’
‘Blub!’
‘That’s the ticket. I think we understand one another – eh what? Get up now child and adjust your clothing. You may come down to supper later on if you wish. In the meantime, I suggest you remain in your bedroom until you’ve calmed down a bit.’
With some fatherly assistance, Elizabeth got back on her feet once again. Her bottom felt like it was on fire, and she was forced to pull her panties back into position very slowly and carefully.
Some time later whilst lying on her bed with tear-stained face and dishevelled hair, she thought about the promise she had made to her father before he had turned her over his knee. She immediately resolved to never again dream up silly stories and tell lies. An over-active imagination can get you into all sorts of bother!
"Late Again" [Written by S. Mack]
"Late Again" [Written by S. Mack]
Bill Morris gazed at the clock on the wall and frowned. His daughter Linda had gone to the dance at the town hall earlier this evening, and was late again. She’d been late the week before and he had felt fully justified in taking her to task about it, however on that occasion she’d at least been home and in bed by ten minutes to twelve. So - just before setting off for tonight’s function - Linda had been sternly warned to be back by 11 o’clock at the very latest.
‘She’s met up with some boy I expect.’ thought Bill. ‘If so, I hope he’s chivalrous enough to walk the girl home!’
Although approaching her mid teens and very grown-up for her age, Linda was still just a child as far as her paternal parent was concerned. Bill had been ready for bed and had changed into his pyjamas two hours ago, but due to the fact that he and his wife had been worrying about their beloved offspring being out at such an advanced hour, he hadn’t been able to get off to sleep. It was alright for Linda as she’d broken up from school for the summer holidays; however he had to cycle to work just after 7 AM and was a man who very much enjoyed getting eight hours of refreshing sleep.
‘It really is too bad.’ he muttered to himself.
Eventually a key was heard turning in the front door lock and a great sense of relief swept over Bill. However, feeling extremely tired and thoroughly resentful about having his instructions blatantly disregarded, he was determined to have it out with his errant daughter. There was a faint click as the door closed, followed by the sound of gentle footsteps outside in the hallway. Then complete silence for a few moments, as if the person without was hesitating about whether or not to enter the living room. Eventually the door opened and Linda tiptoed in.
‘Hello Dad. I saw the light was on, so guessed you were still up.’
‘Indeed. Are you aware what time it is?’ said her father glancing at the clock.
‘Gosh – is that the time? Awfully sorry, but I didn’t have my watch on see. I didn’t realise how late it was and missed the last bus home. Honestly, we were having such fun and the band was simply terrific.’
‘I’m delighted to learn that you enjoyed yourself. However the fact that you weren’t wearing a watch does not excuse your late arrival. You could have asked someone the time, or indeed gone outside and looked up at the town hall clock. Your mother and I have been worried sick about what might have happened to you.’
Linda feigned a yawn and stretched her arms above her head. ‘Well I’m home now, so if you don’t mind I’ll go to bed.’
‘Just a minute... I’m not at all happy that you have defied my specific instructions to be home at a reasonable hour. I also do not accept your pitiful excuse for being unaware of the time. From now on you are forbidden to go out in the evening until further notice.’
‘What? No – that’s so unfair! I’ve promised my friends to go to the dance next week. The Pete Francis Band are playing and I’ve been so looking forward to seeing them.’
‘I don’t care if the Pete Francis Band are playing or not. You will not be going to anymore dances until I am completely satisfied that you have learned to come home at a reasonable hour.’
‘Oooooh… I HATE you! Leave me alone and stop treating me like a child!’ squealed Linda and stamped out of the room slamming the door behind her.
Bill was livid. ‘How dare you… Linda, come back here this instant!’ he shouted.
Linda did so and suddenly felt very uneasy as her eyes met those of an extremely irate father. He glowered threateningly through his back framed spectacles – it was as if his mild blue eyes would shoot forth flames at any second. There was a limit to how far a mature parent with old-fashioned ideas about discipline could be pushed and Bill Morris felt that that limit had been reached. Obviously being kept in on dance night wasn’t going to be sufficient punishment for Linda and he resolved there and then to give her a jolly good spanking. If the girl was going to behave like a spoiled brat then that’s how she would be treated. Bill looked around the room for something with which to spank his daughter. He owned a wooden clothes brush that would be ideal for the purpose, but that was kept upstairs in his bedroom. Also in the bedroom was a leather trouser belt - that would also have been ideally suited to the task – so what else? Then he remembered putting his slippers on when getting ready for bed. He sat down on the settee, removed one of the slippers and barked, ‘Get over my knee!’
‘No Dad – please! I’m much too old to have my bottom smacked.’
‘Over my knee. NOW young lady!’
Linda groaned softly as she slowly lowered herself into the requested position. She cushioned her head against the arm of the settee and waited. Unfortunately there was to be a delay in the proceedings, as the spanker noticed that the spankee had lots of padding under her blue print dress in the form of thick petticoats. Bill tut-tutted in annoyance and promptly pushed them up and out of the way, exposing the target area clad in tiny white panties. ‘Might as well have these out of the way too,’ he thought and eased the girl’s flimsy underwear down over the tops of her nylon stockings. He then raised the slipper over his head and brought it down hard with a loud WHOP onto a trembling right buttock. Linda gasped as she felt the stinging effects of the impact. There was a few seconds pause, before the slipper was brought down hard again – this time on her left buttock cheek:
WHOP…
And again:
WHOP…
Linda’s face became contorted with pain as the slippering continued. She clutched at the arm of the settee for support.
WHOP…
WHOP… ‘Ouch!’
WHOP… ‘Ow!’
The painful effects of the beating caused Linda to cry out in distress; however Bill was unmoved and said nothing as he raised the slipper into the air once more:
WHOP… ‘Ow!
WHOP… ‘Ooooh! Dad, that’s enough – I’m sorry…’
WHOP… ‘Ouch!’
WHOP… ‘Owwch!’
WHOP… ‘Owww!’
WHOP… ‘Ooooooh!’
After twelve very hard spanks had been applied to her youthful behind, Bill was satisfied that his disrespectful daughter had been punished enough. He allowed her to get to her feet and quickly haul her panties back up. He noticed the teenager’s eyes were moist with unshed tears as she gazed unseeingly at the wall on the opposite side of the room. Her chest heaved up and down as she gulped deep lungfuls of air.
‘You’d better go upstairs and get ready for bed. I’m sorry I had to punish you, but I will not be spoken to in that manner.’
Linda said nothing, but continued to breathe heavily as she fought to control her emotions. She was furious with her father for spanking her like a naughty child and furious with herself for being stupid enough to provoke him. Her bottom throbbed agonisingly, and she desperately wanted to burst into tears. However, pride kept her from doing so - she didn’t want to give Dad the satisfaction of realising just how much the slippering had hurt. Anyway she could always cry herself to sleep in the privacy of her bedroom after they had both turned in for the night.
‘Well I’m off to bed at last. I’ll see you when I come home from work tomorrow. Goodnight.’ said Bill.
‘Goodnight.’ quavered Linda.
After the living room door had closed, Linda put both hands behind her back and rubbed away at a very tender behind. She thought about what a good time she’d had at the dance tonight, only to go and spoil things by ignoring Dad’s warning to be home in good time. She would definitely wear a wristwatch whenever he allowed her to go back there again. Then a tear began to trickle down her cheek: this was swiftly followed by another, then another…
"Like in the Old Days" [Written by Siegfried]
"Like in the Old Days" [Written by Siegfried]