Spanking had been banned for over two decades by the time I started at St Martin’s, a girls grammar school in all but name. They prided themselves on strict discipline, and the slipper and the cane had been a regular occurrence, both in and out of class, 20 or 30 years before.
However, since it was outlawed, they had to be more imaginative. Detentions were common, both single and full class ones. Suspensions were also used, but only where other options were proving futile. However, the single most effective method of control was a sternly worded letter home. In this, the teacher or head teacher would spell out what the offence had been and what in-school sanction had or could be applied. The letters had a section at the bottom which a parent or guardian could fill in. Here, they would either agree with the sanction which was to be applied, or if they disagreed they could suggest an alternative. A third option was to apply a sanction at home and report that back to school and the matter would be closed.
My mum and her friends who had been to St Martin’s as pupils tended to go for the third option, more’s the pity, as they had grown up under the threat and realisation of school spankings, slipperings and occasionally canings too.
One Wednesday afternoon when I was 13 or 14 years of age, my friend Tina and I were playing with a tennis ball in the playground, which was prohibited. Tennis balls could only be used on the tennis or netball courts, which were always occupied by the 5th and 6th forms. All went well until a scuffle on the tennis court broke out. I took my eye off what I was doing and put the ball straight through one of the storeroom windows, which shattered. Once Mrs Bates had sorted the fight out, we were next in line.
“What the heck is going on here, girls? You know ball games are prohibited in this area, specifically for this reason. Come with me!”
We were marched straight to the deputy headmistress’s office, Mrs Knowles. Mrs Bates knocked loudly.
“Come,” came the reply from Mrs Knowles, and we were ushered in. “Ah, Mrs Bates, how may I help you?” she enquired.
Clearly trouble was afoot, and in days of old we would have been across her knee or desk sharpish, I would imagine.
“I have just broken up a tussle on the tennis courts, just high spirits really, but whilst I was doing that I heard a crash of glass and came to find these two looking very worried next to a broken window which a tennis ball had just gone through. I thought you were the best person to deal with this, Mrs Knowles,” Mrs Bates explained.
“Indeed so, Mrs Bates. Thank you, I will take it from here,” Mrs Knowles said kindly and Mrs Bates left.
Mrs Knowles then picked up a standard letter with several blanks on it which she then completed, photocopied, added our names at the top and put them in an envelope after reading it to us.
Essentially it read, ‘Jo (or Tina) has been involved in an incident in the playground. A window was broken. The sanction I intend to impose, unless you suggest otherwise, is a 2 hour detention on Saturday morning and your daughter to pay half the cost of replacing the window.’
The letter actually said a lot more, but that was the meat of it.
“I want to see the replies before registration tomorrow,” Mrs Knowles added.
Dejectedly, we went to our next lesson as the bell went. Afterwards, Tina and I walked home together.
“What will your mum say?” I asked Tina.
“She’ll make me pay my share of the repairs out of my savings and say I deserve to have my weekend spoiled. How about yours?” Tina asked in reply.
“We are going to see my aunty on Saturday,” I began.
“Oh, so what will your mum suggest?” Tina pressed.
“She’ll also make me pay half, like you. She’ll also no doubt be making herself acquainted with my upturned bottom across her lap again,” I said disconsolately.
“Of course, she is an old-fashioned spanking mum, isn’t she? To be honest, I think I would rather take a spanking and have my Saturday free,” Tina added.
“Does she spank you often then?” I quizzed.
“No, not for years and years,” Tina confessed. “It used to hurt, but not that badly. Then again, I was only 7 or 8, so she probably would spank much harder now, I suppose. How about you?”
“More often than I care to admit. Anyhow, I’d better face the music. The sooner she does it the sooner it is over with. I’ll see you in the morning outside Knowles’s office.”
With that I went through the gate and into the house.
“What’s wrong?” asked mum, without me saying anything. My demeanour probably gave it away, and I handed her the letter. She read it in silence and read it again, placed it on the table and then looked at me. “So, what exactly happened?”
I explained in detail. There was little point in doing otherwise, and awaited her judgement.
“You know ball games are banned there; there is a sign and everything. You can certainly pay half towards the repairs out of your savings tin. As for the detention, that is a non-starter as we are going to see Aunt Lucy on Saturday. I’m sorry, sweetheart, it looks like I will need to spank you again!”
“Oh mum, no! Maybe you can suggest something else; detention next week maybe?”
I knew this was a futile suggestion. Even as I spoke, she was pulling a chair from under the dining table and placing it in the middle of the floor away from any objects.
“No arguing, Jo. You must have known you had this coming. Now come here and let’s get this over with,” she suggested strongly.
Crestfallen and with sagging shoulders, I had little option but to grudgingly agree. I walked the 5 or 6 paces towards her. Sitting squarely on the straight-backed chair, she took my arm and gently guided me across her lap in preparation for her spanking my bottom. I had been in this position many times before, though somewhat less often in the last year or so. The balancing act of staying in place had gotten easier with age as both hands and toes did at least meet with the ground now, rather than dangling in an even more humiliating position.
“Good girl. Now stay still and we’ll soon be finished.”
As mum said this, she used her right hand to pull my knee-length school skirt up over my bottom and onto my back, where she clamped it and me in place with her left hand. This exposed my slightly too tight white school panties, which were even tighter in this bent over position. I was already red in the face, just with the embarrassment and knowing what was coming my way.
She didn’t keep me waiting very long either. Almost as soon as her left arm had braced me, the first smack landed sharply on my right buttock.
I yelped as each spank landed, building on the pain and heat of the last. Alternating buttocks, mum spanked at her familiar steady rhythm of about one spank every 3 or 4 seconds. The pain grew and grew, and soon tears flowed down my cheeks and onto the polished wooden floor beneath my head. Backwards and forwards and around and round, mum moved the site of each spank around my bottom, expertly ensuring she got maximum reward for her efforts.
Eventually, after what seemed like 10 minutes but was probably just 2 or 3 in reality, her hand came to rest on my left buttock for one last time. She then hooked her fingers into my panties, and for one brief moment of horror I thought she was going to whip them down, but with a snap of elastic, the panties were released. She had just been examining her handy work!
“Now let that be a lesson to you. I shouldn’t need to spank a girl of your age. Off you get. Go and get changed and I will fill the letter in,” she said.
I walked carefully up the stairs to my room, dropped my skirt and panties and could see the redness of my bottom. I carefully rubbed it and put on a loose-fitting cotton skirt without panties for comfort, and went back down stairs where mum handed me the letter to read.
She had written,
‘Jo cannot attend detention due to a family commitment. I have therefore given her a spanking across my knee, making sure she had something to think about for the rest of the evening. Please let me know how much she owes you for her portion of the repairs and I will ensure it is paid from her savings tin. Apologies for the trouble Jo has caused.’
Oh the humiliation of having to stand there tomorrow when Mrs Knowles reads it out in front of Tina, I thought to myself.
Next morning, I hurried to Mrs Knowles’ office and arrived just as Tina was going in. She indicated I should hurry up, which I did, and soon we stood shoulder to shoulder exchanging glances as Mrs Knowles held out her hand for the letters we were clutching.
Mrs Knowles opened both envelopes and glanced at them.
“Good, you are each paying half of the cost of the repairs. Mrs Jackson’s husband is an odd-job man and has offered to make the repair by just charging for the glass. That only totals £10, so you will only have to pay £5 each,” she proffered.
Tina and I exchanged smiles. That was good news; we had expected much worse.
“Jo, I see you cannot make the detention, but you were put over your mother’s knee and spanked soundly on your knickers; a suitable punishment.”
Mrs Knowles turned to Tina, who shuffled about and looked down at the carpet in embarrassment.
“Tina, I see you have been acting up more than usual at home and your mother reports this was the straw that broke the camel’s back!”
Tina shuffled about some more.
“I also see she also decided that a spanking was the best option. You, too, were put over her knee and given a slippering over your knickers. All very satisfactory. You may both go. Drop the money in before school closes on Monday,” Mrs Knowles said in a matter of fact way.
Tina and I left the office and huddled conspiratorially in the corridor on our way to class.
“What? She actually gave you the slipper?” I exclaimed to Tina. “I thought she wasn’t a spanking mum? How was it? I bet it hurt. I just got the hand and that was bad enough. What did she do?”
“It stung like crazy all evening,” Tina explained. “She asked what your mum was going to do and I told her you would almost certainly end up over her knee. Then my mum said that maybe I should get the same. I thought she was joking. She got me over her lap, took off one of her carpet slippers and used that on my bum! She said I had it coming, and had done for quite a while. I suspect if I step too far out of line again I might get more of the same.”
“Welcome to the club,” I said. “Come on, let’s not be late to registration or you might be getting another letter sent home,” I joked.