Archive for ‘School & College Punishments’

September 21st, 2018

Girls are slippered

I was brought up in Walsall in the West Midlands and I worked my way through our local school from Infants, Juniors and, after failing my eleven plus, to Seniors. This was a real culture shock. A lot of my friends had gone to other schools and I was alone in this strange place with strict male teachers, homework, the strap and slipper for children who broke the lots of unwritten rules in the classrooms.

Girls sat one side of the room and boys the other, with the brightest at the front and less bright children at the rear. There was little interaction between boys and girls, with girls having their own playground and school entrance.

Punishments were frequent, with boys being hauled to the front of the room for the slipper or, for more serious punishments, sent to the headmaster for the strap. Girls, however, were treated differently. They were given lines to write out and, very occasionally, they were sent with a note to the senior mistress, Mrs H, only to return after twenty minutes with a red face. They then sat quietly for the rest of the day.

We boys were never able to find out what had happened to them. Boys questioned sisters, but all that came back was that girls just got lines.
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September 2nd, 2018

A boy caned in the lower sixth form

I went to an all boys grammar school in West Yorkshire in the 1970s. My journey through the first five years was pretty uneventful. I had my good and favourite subjects, and my not so favourite subjects. I avoided any serious trouble and, although corporal punishment was standard for some offences, my own experiences were limited to being smacked in front of the class twice in the first form and one slippering from the gym teacher in the fifth form. It was a given that I was going to continue my education into the sixth form and my choice of A levels would have been Maths, French and Physics. That mix of sciences and arts was apparently going to make scheduling difficult, and also my father thought Chemistry was going to be a better choice than French. Although I had no real interest in chemistry, I was probably going to pass my O level so bowed to the pressure to take it at A level as well.

As it turned out, my sixth form chemistry teacher, Mrs Bradley, was also to be my form mistress for the next two years. It wasn’t long into the first term when she asked me to stay behind after class. She was less than impressed with my homework and asked me to repeat it and hand it in again the following day, which I duly, but reluctantly, did. A few weeks later, I was in her bad books again. During the course of a lesson she asked me a question which I was unable to answer. This was quickly followed by a second question which I was also unable to answer, my embarrassment causing some amusement to the rest of the class. That only served to further her annoyance and I was duly sent to stand outside in the corridor. As the rest of the class filed out at the end of the lesson, I was called back in and asked if there was any particular reason I was wasting my own time and hers. It was one of those questions that didn’t have a worthwhile answer so I offered what was perhaps a fairly unconvincing apology. Nevertheless, it seemed to have been accepted and I left thinking that was the end of the matter.
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August 13th, 2018

Two schoolgirls caned

I hope my recollection encourages others like me to also share their experiences. Whilst corporal punishment in schools was widespread during my school days, I don’t believe my life-time interest, nor the event that triggered this, was. This fascination has been a dark secret which only recently I was able to explore more fully.

I was privately educated in the South East of England during the mid 1970s and early 1980s, in a mixed junior school and then an all-girls senior school. It was at my local independent junior school that I first sensed a thrill witnessing others being punished, and particularly the last two years during which we had quite strict teachers. The school did pride itself in getting all of its pupils in to their desired public schools, so didn’t tolerate laziness or poor behaviour.

None of the punishments seemed unusual to us at the time, and indeed, were very similar to what we had heard about in other schools that friends or family attended.

In my final year at junior school, we had Miss D as our principal teacher. She was probably in her late twenties, single, but got engaged just before we left, was quite intense, with piercing eyes, rarely smiled, always caked in make-up with brightly painted nails and tottered around in high shoes to compensate for her lack of height.
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June 2nd, 2018

Girl strapped in class

After giving my boyfriend, Garry, a quick kiss at the school main door, he then hurried on to the PE block. It was nearly twenty to ten. The first period finished at ten. I headed to the girls toilet. I took my make-up bag out and redid my lipstick and eyes, then took my cigarettes out and lit one. I took all my rings off and put them in my school bag. Mrs Logan the music teacher would probably strap me for being late.

I lifted my skirt up and pulled my tights right up. I took three big puffs of my cigarette and flushed it down the toilet, then hurried to the music room. When I reached the door it was five to ten. I knocked, then entered. The class looked up at me. Mrs Logan was sitting at the piano.

“Ah, Margaret, glad to see you could honour us with your presence. What’s your excuse for turning up with five minutes of the period left?”

“I slept in, miss,” I said.

“You slept in yet you still had time to apply your make up flawlessly?” Mrs Logan said, getting up from the piano.

She went across to her desk, opened the drawer and took out a long brown strap. She straightened it.
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January 27th, 2018

A boy’s school spanking

This happened many years ago when I was going to St Anthony’s School in Mill Hill, London. It was just after lunch and I was in class talking with my friends, Mark and Nicholas. When Sister Stephanie told us to get on with our maths, the others did as they were told but I continued to talk. I was warned that I would be spanked if I kept talking, which of course I ignored and carried on talking.

I got told to go to Sister Stephanie for my spanking, which I did not do straight away. I was then told sternly to go to her and I did. She made me stand beside her with my hands on my head as she pulled my trousers and pants down. Then she pulled me over her knee. She always stroked the bottom cheeks and thighs to make sure she could reach all of the bare bottom and thighs with out having to move much.

She would then give the bottom a few hard slaps to let you know how hard she was going to spank you. Then she started the hard spanking, moving her hand back and forth as she landed some very hard smacks. She continued to smack my bottom harder and harder, making the cheeks bounce as her hand landed on the right and then left cheek moving down to the thighs. After landing a hard volley of smacks to left and right thighs, she moved back up onto my bottom and landed a lot more very hard smacks, moving up and down the left and right cheeks to make them very red and sore.
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January 20th, 2018

Memory of a female cousin being spanked

Probably my first recollection of spanking being a turn on was nearly 35 years ago. I was sent to my aunt and uncle’s home to stay for the night and following day. My parents had to go out of town and my aunt was to watch over me for a day or two.

I was around 9-10 years old at the time. My aunt and uncle lived on a rural southern Indiana farm. They had two children. Their son was around 16 years old and their daughter was about 14-15 years old. Even though they were considerably older than myself, I enjoyed having them to play with.

I was at their house to spend the night. That evening, my cousin, Barbara, and I were in the family room watching TV. I was on the sofa and she was lying on the floor in front of me. It was getting late, or at least late for a kid my age to be up. I believe it was around 9:30 pm or 10 pm. She was laying on the floor on her stomach looking at a magazine and listening to the TV. Her parents were in the kitchen. Her mom was doing dishes and my uncle was drinking coffee at the table.
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January 12th, 2018

Getting Even

We had a system at school for dealing with girls who we considered had been out of order or had snitched on another girl. It was quite simple really. We lined up along the gym wall and formed a tunnel with our hands on the wall and forced her to enter one end and exit the other. She had no choice, she would have been pushed in if necessary and as she made her way to the other end she would be kicked or get her bottom smacked as she passed by. The system was in place long before I started there and the teachers tended to turn a blind eye to it.

One girl who wasn’t well liked emerged rather battered from her ordeal; she hadn’t been quick enough through. The day after, her mother had been in to school and made a serious complaint about it. The day after that, the boys were sent out of assembly and the headmistress stood on the stage. She made it quite clear that the school would not condone what she called a barbaric practice, plus all the girls involved would be identified and caned.

She read out three names and asked them to stand. She then asked for the girls to admit they were part of it by also standing up. Two did, and the rest of us stayed firmly seated. The five of them were sent to her office for six of the cane.
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January 6th, 2018

School and other memories

I recall as a youngster being fascinated by the cane and the idea of someone being spanked, although I wasn’t spanked at home. I do remember watching Billy Bunter on TV; he was always getting caned, so maybe this was the cause. But I do remember such thoughts at age about 7 or 8.

An incident that occurred while staying at my grandparents, who lived in a different town, also excited me. I was playing at the house of a friend there one evening, in the living room with both our mothers present. We were playing round the table and he just stopped running round, stood still with his legs slightly apart and deliberately wet his pants.

His mother was not amused! She took him into the next room where I heard some shouting followed by the unmistakable sound of a belt landing, accompanied by howls. When he emerged, he didn’t look any too happy, clearly having been strapped for his antics. I often wished I had the courage to pee myself like that. And the thought of getting strapped for it too? Well, that made the whole prospect seem so exciting.

At primary school, if you misbehaved, then you would get smacked by the teacher. That would involve either, if necessary rolling up the sleeve, getting you arm slapped, or else, at this time, boys wore short trousers, pulling up the trouser leg, or skirt if it was a girl, just enough to allow the thigh to be slapped.
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January 5th, 2018

A Typical School Slippering

I was late for biology. Lateness with Miss H had happened for a couple of the girls previously and the resulting bottoms were not something you courted. I ran down the corridor slap bang into my art teacher; the drawings she was carrying flew everywhere. I was very apologetic and helped her pick the drawings up. She knew I was late and delayed me as long as she could before demanding I see her at 4 o’clock.

I scurried along to the biology lab, only to find a line of girls still waiting for Miss H. It occurred to me I had rushed for nothing and now had an after school meeting with my art teacher. 4 o’clock arrived all to quickly for me. It’s amazing how slowly time can pass when you are willing it to speed up, and to my surprise I wasn’t the only one she wanted to see, for there at her door were three other. All were either first or second years. I, a fourth year, must have stuck out like a sore thumb.

We were all called in together and this had me worried. There was no doubt she would slipper me; I expected nothing less, but in front of a boy, surely not. It turned out we had all broken one or more of the school rules that day and our bottoms were going to pay the price. She kept the boy and sent the rest of us out. One of the girls asked me what would happen next.
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December 28th, 2017

Cross country

Twice a year we heard the dreaded words ‘it’s cross country today, girls’.

My heart would sink for I hated it. It was a run round the school and its perimeter rather than a cross country. It was something I could easily achieve but didn’t want to. As a sixteen year old, running around the school in your knickers didn’t seem cool so I made the decision to duck into a gap where dustbins were stored. I knew the line would pass the other side on its way back and re-joining would be easy.

I realised idea my was not original when I found myself with a bunch of other girls pulling the same stunt. As the gaggle passed the other side, we blended in one at a time and then ran back to the gym for a shower.

As we arrived back at the gym, the changing rooms and showers were to the right, but Miss Winton, with a piece of paper in her hand, sent me left before ticking my name off her list. I found myself in a line consisting of those who had cheated; how she knew I’ve never worked out but, as the last arrived back, reprisals began.

One at a time, we were called into the gym to bend over the leather buck. Miss Winton’s thick ruler was raised and was soon cracking hard into offending backsides. The usual expectation would have been for her to stop at six, but no, she was making an example of us and didn’t stop until we had all received twelve.
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