My mate Charlie and I were camping during spring half term week on a campsite we had been to before in the general South Downs area. We were at the far end of the site and, over the fence behind, was an outdoors pursuits business where small huts were used for accommodation. They had a group of girls, looked to be about 15 or 16 years old, judging by their build. They were clearly from a very posh school, at least compared to us.

We didn’t have anything to do with them as there was a wooden fence between the sites. We fished and walked and swam and bird-watched, and had a good relaxing time. On our last afternoon, we had been in the local woods bird-spotting and came across the girls doing what looked like orienteering and organised tree-climbing with ropes. Sadly, they all wore trousers so we couldn’t sneak a peek.

As we retreated into the distance, we thought we heard shouting coming from the group, and maybe crying or wailing, but we couldn’t be sure, so we carried on back to our tent where I put the kettle on and made a brew.

Some 25 or 30 minutes later, we heard shrill shouts and laughter from over the fence and had a quick look through a couple of knot holes in the wood. Two of the girls were clearly picking on two others for not being very good at climbing. That must have been what all noise was about earlier. The noise was getting quite loud by now and the two girls were crying under the verbal assault. I said to Charlie that someone ought to do something, but before the words had fully left my lips a sharp whistle blew and one of the teachers yelled at the girls.

“What is the meaning of this din? It is enough to wake the dead. Dawn, Angela, stop crying. Whatever is the matter?”

“Nothing, Miss,” they replied, presumably not wanting to tell on the bullies.

“Miss, Tanya and Theya were bullying them for not being good at climbing. They’ve been at them all afternoon, but the instructor did nothing to stop them,” one of the other girls piped up, much to her credit.

“Is this true Angela, Dawn?” the teacher asked with more conviction now.

“Yes Miss, but we dare not say anything because we would only get worse next time,” the girl called Dawn spoke weakly.

“Very well, you know my attitude towards bullies. Tanya, Theya, follow me and look sharp.” The teacher was a muscularly-built lady, probably a PE teacher, as she marched them towards the closest hut which had a long wooden bench outside it.

Charlie and I looked on with mouths hanging open as the following events unfolded before our very eyes.

The teacher, who was wearing a white polo shirt with what I presume was the school crest and a pair of blue mid-thigh length shorts, plonked her behind on the bench and the two girls stood to her right hand side. Without instruction, the girls looked at each other and then one of them prostrated herself over the teacher’s waiting lap as though it was an every-day occurrence, but not before unfastening and dropping her trousers to her knees, revealing a pair of figure-hugging green knickers.

The teacher immediately commenced quite a long, and from the shrieks and yelps from the girl, painful spanking of her bottom. Her breasts and head were bobbing about, driven by the sharp impacts of the teacher’s hand on her bottom. We had never seen such a show and we relished every moment. Eventually, the teacher had sufficiently punished this girl and told her to get up and sort herself out, which she did whilst bawling like a small kid, especially as she pulled her trousers back up.

Again without being told, the second girl also unfastened and dropped her trousers revealing a pair of bright red, very brief, knickers. Charlie and I couldn’t believe our luck. She, too, then put herself across the teacher’s lap and, again, her hand began to beat out a steady rhythm on this second defenceless bottom. The smacking noise made a couple of the onlooking girls wince. Presumably, they were no strangers to this position themselves. Again, the second spanking radiated through the girl’s body, her head and breasts bobbing along in time with the spanking. She was soon in floods of tears.

All good things came to an end. With one last resounding smack, the second girl’s spanking was over. As she regained her feet, she rubbed her bright red knickers for all she was worth before gathering her trousers and pulling them back up.

Of course, Charlie and I had very much enjoyed what we saw, and felt truly blessed that we were in the right place at the right time.