I was in the 3rd year at an all-girls school. Being a private school, the discipline regime was strict to encourage the girls to behave and perform to their best.
I had suffered a run of sanctions for missing the handing-in of homework. I had actually done the work; I was just forgetful at having it with me at the appropriate time. A couple of tellings-off were followed by a trip over Mrs J’s knee, which was my first school spanking. This was a wake-up call supposedly, but in all honesty having my bottom spanked really didn’t change a great deal. So much so, when I forgot my homework again the following week, Mrs J sent me, with a note, directly to the headmistress.
Of course, I read the note whilst on the way down. It said,
‘Dear Mrs B, Samantha has repeatedly not handed in homework on time. She has been given detentions, she has been spanked over my knee, all to no effect. I would therefore be grateful if you could take her punishment to the next level, please. Thank you and regards, Mrs J.’
Next level? What did that mean? I knocked and went into the headmistress’s outer office and spoke to Sally, her secretary. I handed her the note, which she read.
“Have a seat, Sam. Mrs B is just with someone, but she shouldn’t be very long,” Sally said kindly.
As I sat and waited, I heard muffled voices from within the office and then quiet. Then wopp! wopp! and a muffled argh.
Four more wopps were followed by, “Argh, ow, ow, ooch in that order.
I looked up worriedly at Sally, who smiled at me, but we both knew what was going on. There was silence in the office. Then came muffled voices, footsteps, the door handle moving, and the door swinging open. Mrs B emerged, followed by a tearful girl from the 5th form who had bright red eyes, wet cheeks, and was rubbing her bottom briskly over her skirt.
“Now let that be a lesson to you, Sandra. Pull your socks up, and if you come back this term you will get more of the same. You may return to your class,” Mrs B said, and then glanced in my direction.
Sally went over to Mrs B, whispered something in her ear and handed her my note which she read quickly.
“Well Samantha, I have not seen you in my office before. I trust you heard what happened to Sandra. I think we need to apply the same incentive to you, Samantha, don’t you? Come on through, please,” she said, closing the door behind us.
I could see a chair in front of her desk turned to face the door, a large format leather bound book with the words ‘Punishment Book’ on the cover, and a large, black plimsoll-like slipper on the desk, presumably having been used to deal with the preceding girl. My mouth was suddenly very dry. My palms, conversely, were wringing wet and I am sure my legs were slightly wobbly.
Mrs B opened the punishment book and I could read the last entry which said,
‘Sandra W, 5th form, 6 spanks with the slipper over panties across the knee.’
My knees were probably knocking now.
Mrs B then added the next entry,
‘Samantha S, 3rd form, 6 spanks with the slipper over panties across the knee.’
My fate apparently had been decided without a word of discussion.
“Very well, Samantha,” Mrs B said, taking her seat. “Come here and bend across my knee, please,” she said as an order, not a request.
I slowly walked towards her and stretched over her, lowering my body clumsily, almost falling, as I was still quite small for my age at that time. My feet didn’t quite reach the ground, neither did my hands, so I was dangling helplessly with my long hair cascading over my face. I felt Mrs B’s hand clamp onto my lower back to hold me in place, not that I could go anywhere. I then felt a cold swish of air as my skirt was dragged up over my legs and bottom and this too was clamped in place by her left hand on my back.
I lay there feeling totally exposed as Mrs B reached behind herself and picked up the large plimsoll with which I was about to become intimately acquainted with. There would be just my thin, regulation green cotton, panties between the crepe sole of the plimsoll and my bottom. I remember what the 5th former looked like afterwards and expected every bit as bad a time of it, but nothing could prepare myself for the reality of what a proper slippering would entail.
Wopp! the plimsoll bit angrily into my bottom and my left buttock exploded with searing, awful pain. I let out a fearful scream and yelp all in one. Wopp, the second crashed into my helpless, defenceless right buttock with equal effect. Wopp, wopp, the next two fell on alternate buttocks, and again I screamed and cried as the impacts’ effects multiplied with each application of the slipper to my bottom. By the time the last stroke of the slipper hit my bottom, tears were flooding down my face and my hair hanging in front of my eyes was soaked, my eyes were puffy and my bottom was on fire.
“You may get up now, Samantha. I think that has taught you a lesson this afternoon,” Mrs B told me.
However, as neither hands nor feet were contacting the ground, she realised a little late in the proceedings that perhaps a helping hand would be a good idea. Grudgingly, she lifted me off so my feet made contact with the ground and I could stand up again. I stood there crying for a minute or two as my skirt cascaded back over my bottom and the initial shock of the heat and pain slowly started to ebb away ever so slightly.
“Get yourself sorted, Samantha, then you may go back to your class,” Mrs B added as my tears started to subside.
I wandered back to my class, slowly hoping the obvious effects of the slippering would wear off. Sadly, that was not to be the case. As I entered the classroom, everyone pointed and whispered as Mrs J turned and looked me up and down.
“I hope a trip over the headmistress’s knee and a taste of her plimsoll has more effect than my hand across your bottom last week did. Chop chop! Sit down,” she instructed.
Obediently I did so, and the pain was excruciating before the welcome cooling of the old wooden chair worked its way through the fabric of my skirt and knickers and offered at least some comfort. I was rather better with my homework for the next few weeks but alas I late became a more than average frequency visitor to the headmistress’s office and also to her lap. Not always for the slipper, but she could certainly make your eyes water using just her hand, even if it was administered with your skirt still in place.