It was the last day of the reign of Miss Brown as headmistress of my all-girls school. She was retiring, to be replaced by Mrs Fothergill in the new school year.

The day was hot and sticky, and we were getting restless for the end of school, which traditionally was at lunchtime on the final day. Miss Brown was being thrown a party by the governors and staff, and she was to be presented with a beautiful grandfather clock which we had been invited to contribute towards.

Finally, I had had enough and sneaked out of class. I had a glass of orange juice which I tried to place on a fire alarm button near our room. Unfortunately, it slipped and in catching it before it fell to the ground I managed to set off the fire alarm.

Within seconds, everyone began filing out and I hid in the crowd to hide my identity as the culprit. Mrs Dennis, our form teacher, knew it was me, but couldn’t prove it. She intended to tell Miss Brown but, due to the party, it was too late for her to do anything about it, and so I escaped a well-deserved spanking, which was probably the first time in history anyone had managed this miracle at our school.

Ten years later, on a Saturday afternoon, I pulled into my local supermarket and was just going in when I almost literally bumped into an old lady exiting the back of a black taxi cab.

“Oh, excuse me,” I apologised. “It isn’t, is it? Miss Brown, is it you?”

“It is indeed, Samantha. Fancy bumping into you after all these years. You are looking very well,” she said, looking at my hand. “And I see someone has made an honest woman of you,” she added kindly.

“Indeed, we married some four years ago. Stan is his name,” I told her happily. “Come on, let me buy you a coffee and cake, and we can have a catch-up chat, if you are not in a hurry, Miss Brown,” I offered.

“Not at all, I couldn’t hurry if I tried. I get a cab these days. I handed my driving licence back last year. My eyes aren’t what they used to be,” she said as we entered the cafe and a lady took our order, which arrived within moments.

“So, how have you been since you retired? I hope you are keeping well,” I enquired.

“Not really, Sam. I have had several issues, but I am holding my own, for now at least. How is life with you? Any little ones at home?” she asked.

“No, we are not really planning on kids, at least for the near future anyway. I remember what I was like, and I am not sure I could cope with me growing up!” I said, smiling.

“You were a handful at times. Goodness knows how many times I had to put you across my knee and try and straighten you out,” she said dryly.

“Oh, at least a dozen times over the years, I would guess, probably more,” I said after a quick mental count back.

There was a far-away look in her eye. Long gone was the authoritarian look that struck fear into all the girls, should you get on the wrong side of her.

“As I recall, it should have been one more after that stunt with the fire alarm on the day I retired. Mrs Dennis was convinced it was you that was responsible, but you escaped having the honour of being the last formal spanking of my teaching career,” she said as she tucked into her cake with relish.

“Sorry about that, Miss Brown. I hope it didn’t spoil your day. It was certainly not my intention. It was such a hot sticky day. We just wanted to get out and get into some cooler clothes.”

“Somewhat, my dear,” she smiled. “The food was going cold, but I have to confess I hadn’t realised quite how much keeping you girls in order took out of me, and how much I had gotten used to spanking all your naughty bottoms. It was a big shock when I was sat at home twiddling my thumbs that summer.”

I must admit to feeling a pang of guilt, spoiling her last day like that and escaping punishment. I offered to take her home after her shop to save her getting a taxi and to give me a chance to spend a little time with her as she was clearly a little lonely. As I was only picking up a few salad things, I said I would wait on the benches in front of the store for her and catch a little of the early autumn sunshine as the sun was slowly beginning to set.

Forty-five minutes later, out came Miss Brown and her small trolley full of shopping. We chatted about this and that as I pushed it for her back to my car and loaded everything into the boot. She told me where to go, and I knew the area anyway, so I would have little trouble finding her house.

A red light lay ahead, but I knew the junction and could see 40 or 50m in each direction. I sailed through without even slowing, which resulted in a loud scream from the passenger seat. I just smiled and drove on.

Slightly shaken, Miss Brown said, “And to think I handed my keys in because I didn’t trust my eyes. I am perfectly well, thank you Sam, but at my age I could do without shocks like that! Thank you very much!” she said tersely. “When we get home, if you could bring my bags in for me, I think I have a little something for you that I have been saving since my retirement.”

I was intrigued. Was it a gift or something? Anyhow, all was well and we completed the last five minutes of the journey in silence. I pulled on to her empty driveway and she opened the door while I grabbed her three bags and followed her in.

“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate the lift and it has been lovely to see you today. However, with the fright of a lifetime with your driving, I think you are probably in need of something to focus your attention,” she said cryptically.

“Oh, I don’t drink and drive, Miss Brown. But you feel free to ha…”

She cut me off. “The last time we met, you escaped my wrath. Today, you could have killed someone. I think we have an old score to settle, don’t you, Sam?” She looked me directly in the eye as she spoke.

“Err, I am not sure what you mean, Miss Brown.” I was beginning to feel I was back at school.

“My retirement day. You evaded punishment that day. Don’t you think it is perhaps the correct time to wipe that particular slate clean, and also deal with today’s little, er, mishap?” she concluded, still giving my eyes her full attention.

“Oh, er, I see, Miss Brown.” This was a turn-up for the books. “Maybe I shouldn’t offer coffee and cake to my old teachers in future,” I said, a little taken aback.

“Now Sam, you are no stranger to the finer points of corporal punishment,” she said assuredly. “It may be ten years since I last had to punish a young lady, but I think no one is more deserving than you right now. Wouldn’t you say so, Sam?”

I could see her point, and I found it hard to argue with her. She was right about me setting the fire alarm off, although so much water had flowed under the bridge since that day. And I had stupidly jumped that red traffic light.

“I am very sorry for that day all those years ago, and for missing that red light, but are you serious, Miss Brown?”

“Perfectly serious. True, you could just walk out of the door and I could hardly stop you. But, as an old girl, and one who worked at the school as well, I hear, I think you also feel rather guilty yourself. Am I right?”

“Are you sure you are still up to it, Miss?” I asked genuinely. Big mistake.

“The cheek of it, girl! Shall we see who is up to it?” She said, glaring at me.

I had not only stirred up a hornet’s nest, I had just kicked it over the fence and split it into pieces.

Miss brown looked around, pulled up a chair and sat on it.

“Let’s see if after ten years I can still spank a rude young lady’s bottom, shall we? Come here, right now!” she demanded.

It was a tone I recognised from all those years ago, the sort of tone you instinctively don’t like to question. I was wearing just a short, thin summer dress and was beginning to wish I had worn jeans. I only had thin silk panties on beneath as well, so my clothes were not likely to offer much by way of protection, even against a lady of her advanced years.

“Surely you cannot be serious, Miss Brown. Really? I am 25-years-old, married, and secretary to your successor at school. I am not a 15-year-old any more,” I said like a teenager in a strop.

“You will cut that out and do as you are told!”

That was it. The headmistress was back.

What choice did I have? It was over ten years since I had last lain over her knees for a spanking. Of course, I could always walk out the door, but that would mean losing touch with this old woman who I still admired, and maybe loved a bit too.

I found myself carefully lowering down over her lap, hoping my weight would not be too much for this now frail old lady. I took as much weight as I could on my hands and feet. Within seconds, she had pulled up my dress, revealing my white silky panties, and I lay there awaiting the first smack to land, just like my old schooldays.

“These would hardly be considered regulation in my day. I bet Mrs Fothergill has let standards slip in that regard!” she said, rather cattily.

I did not have to wait very long. Her hand rubbed my bottom very briefly, before contact was broken and then re-established with a resounding smack, the sound and force of which made me jump with surprise. It may have been ten years since she had last punished an errant girl’s bottom, but from that first smack, she had obviously not lost the knack. More spanks followed at around five second intervals; long enough for the pain to register but not long enough to fade before the next sting built on top of the previous ones. I tried my level best to remain silent but now the occasional grunts and cries were starting to creep out as the intensity of the discomfort grew.

It suddenly occurred to me that when she was headmistress you knew you were getting six with the slipper or eighteen with the hand before you bent over, as it was pre-entered in the punishment book. Now, however, Miss Brown had freedom to end this when she saw fit, and not before.

Then she did stop. Had she finished or just paused? I had no idea.

Then, with horror, I heard the words, “As you are an adult now, Sam, I think we will have these down to finish,” and with that I felt her slightly bony fingers slide into the sides of my panties which then slid almost effortlessly over my bottom and onto the backs of my thighs. I could see my bottom reflected clearly in the case of her grandfather clock that we had bought her at her retirement. My reflection showed a very red buttock indeed, and I assumed the other one formed a matching pair.

As I looked, her hand made contact again and my bottom yielded and rippled under the pressure of the impact. The pain intensified to another level as the spanking resumed after the short respite. However, I could tell she was becoming tired and soon she finally came to the end of the punishment. Thank goodness!

“Very well, Sam, you may get up now and make yourself decent.”

As she said that, I was suddenly very aware that my panties had now settled around my ankles as I rose, quickly turned away, and pulled them back into place. I had not cried during her spanking, but my eyes were wet and puffy.

“I hope that now sets things straight between us, Sam. You have finally paid the price for that stupid prank all those years ago, and also for your carelessness in the car today,” she said with her tone mellowing. “Assuming you can sit down, would you like a cup of tea?” she offered.

“Yes please, very much, Miss Brown.”

I sat down carefully on one of the thankfully cushioned chairs at the table.

“Thank you for clearing that up. I am sorry I spoiled your party and scared you today. I hope we bump into each other again, but perhaps without the spanking next time,” I said in a convivial way.

“I would like that very much, my dear, but remember you are not too old for a spanking, should one be deserved,” she smiled, and brought out the tea.

“No, I certainly won’t forget,” I replied, unconsciously touching the back of my bottom.

In the end, I only bumped into her a couple of times after that before I heard that she had passed away suddenly a few months later. I attended her funeral and many former pupils and staff were there, and at the drinks afterwards. Several mentioned my lucky escape when she retired. I smiled, but said nothing about her last ever spanking. I was, in a way, proud it had been me. I could see it had brought a glint back to her eyes as she had re-lived some of her best years in those brief moments we shared. I had wept at the funeral, and I realised I would really miss her.

This is a true story; only the names have been changed for obvious reasons. I would have liked to get to know Miss Brown a little better as I could see there was a loving old lady behind the armour she had assembled over all those years of teaching.

SP