It is a bit sad when you get to the age when, thinking back to your school days, you remember the spanking but not the name of the spanker. It was the geography teacher, and we’ll just have to call her Mrs G, I think it began with a ‘g’ or maybe that was a nickname or ‘g’ for geography even, I don’t know.
One of my class-mates, Linda, not a particular friend, had asked me if she could borrow my homework essay if I had already done it, because she had lost some time off-sick and she just needed to pick up my references and structure. I took pity on her because she had been quite ill and still looked really peaky, and she’d done me a favour previously, the other way round. She was very complimentary about my work and promised me a present. I was taken in, felt a bit sorry for her, and agreed against my better judgement. I made her promise not to just copy it, and she promised.
She gave me it back before the lesson and we all handed our essays in. The following week, everyone got their books back except Linda and me. I guessed straight away there was a problem, and then Mrs G ordered us both to see her at the end of class; that confirmed it. I was on an unlucky streak that year with regards to school discipline and immediately worried about the outcome.
We stood in front of Mrs G’s desk at the end of the lesson as she confronted us over collusion with the homework, as Linda, the silly girl, had copied mine virtually word for every other word. I wasn’t going to tell on Linda; more senior girls never did things like that. We said nothing other than to express surprise that the work had seemed so similar, until the teacher threatened us with Mrs H, the headmistress. I knew what that would mean; six with the large slipper, an entry in the school punishment book, and a letter home to my parents. I wasn’t sure Linda was familiar with that particular routine, but when she looked at me, I think the distraction in my face was enough for her to own up. I was not excused, however, as we were both told to report to Mrs G after school the next day for a detention, expected to last up to one and a half hours, so we could let our parents know we would be late. I thought I could probably explain my lateness without going into details so long as I could catch the 6.00 pm bus.
I have to say I was furious with Linda for copying, and seriously at a loss to know why I was being punished as well, but apparently I was aiding and abetting the act of cheating, and so also to blame.
We reported to Mrs G as instructed the next afternoon after school. I was barely speaking to Linda, even though she had apologised profusely, but as we began our task, we started to work together and pretty well, sorting, dusting, and correctly re-filing all the books in the book-case, and then some folders in the filing cabinets. Mrs G supervised the first few minutes then left us to it for the remainder of the hour. The atmosphere was still pretty frosty between us even though Linda was trying to be friendly, and still apologising. Then she found a certain book, hidden away behind the main run of geographical titles, and that broke the ice. We had a really good giggle, wondering if Mrs G put it there, or who else could have done. I told her I found a copy under my mum’s bed.
We actually did a really good job, and Mrs G agreed when she came back after an hour, and sincerely thanked us for it. She asked us to take the rubbish we had cleared to the bins, and then we would be almost finished. With another half an hour to go, supposedly, we wondered what ‘almost’ meant. We found out when we got back. There was a chair placed strategically in the middle of the room, and a fairly tatty old plimsoll on the desk, possibly the one the dog chewed.
It has been a long time, so I don’t remember her exact words, but to the effect of…
“Now girls, you have done a really good job with the book-case and the cabinet and I thank you for it. But, as I think I mentioned, I was minded to send you to Mrs H (the headmistress) where I am sure you would have received six of the best and gone on permanent record in the punishment book for cheating. I decided to save you from that, and give you just four strokes each myself. Then we can put this matter behind us and no one else need ever know.”
I objected that we had already served a detention, and it wasn’t fair to punish us anymore. The response was predictable.
“Well Jennifer, as you are choosing to argue about it, you’ve just earned yourself an extra stroke. If you continue to argue, you will end up with the six that only Mrs H can give you, a punishment book entry, and a letter home. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Miss.”
We were told to take our skirts off so they didn’t get in the way. Linda went first, and as instructed, bent right over the back of the chair, and positioned herself with elbows on the seat. This left her bottom high in the air and a perfect target for the discipline she was about to receive. Mrs G pulled Linda’s knickers up just a little to ensure there were no creases.
She picked up the plimsoll and placed it on Linda’s upturned bottom, tapped a couple of times, then appeared to caress the bottom, moving the slipper from side to side, very gently tapping as she did so, then lifting it into the air and bringing it down hard on the white knickers. Linda jerked forward just slightly but made no sound. Neither of us were strangers to corporal punishment, so we might both have been expected to take the punishment reasonably well.
Once again, the slipper tapped very gently across Linda’s bottom, almost as if it was caressing the pain away, but then up it went and down hard again on that elevated bottom. A slight intake of breath, nothing more. Soothing taps again and then the third stroke bit hard, Linda gasped again, before issuing a squeak on the arrival of the last stroke, certainly the hardest. She was instructed to get up and, as she turned, I saw that last stroke must have hurt by the glisten in her eyes.
It was the same routine with me; the tapping strokes on my bottom and the hard punishment stroke. I had no idea why she did that. Was it some sort of good slipper, bad slipper routine? I rather suspected she was enjoying it though. It didn’t do anything to caress the pain of the previous stroke away; in fact, I rather wished she’d just get on and whack me. As with Linda, the fourth stroke was extra hard, and although I was expecting it, it still took me by surprise and I responded with a bit of a gasp. Mrs G then kept the slipper on my bottom, even as I was trying to take on the pain on board. She was just applying gentle taps to my buttocks, in a way just soothing the pain but not really. She stroked my bottom with her slipper, lining up the bonus stroke which she delivered with some ferocity low on my seat, making me gasp loudly. Then she kept me bending over for what must have been thirty seconds, and I was beginning to think she was actually going to give me another one; it was maybe very tempting for her, but she resisted, and let me get up.
When we got to the toilets, Linda pulled her skirt up and lowered her knickers to get a view of her bottom which was fairly red; I usually waited until I got home, but she insisted I showed her mine, and she seemed quite impressed. I must admit, with my fair skin, I always reddened up nicely after a spanking.
I asked her what she had done with the book as I hadn’t seen it again when we were finishing off. She lifted up her bag and pulled it out. My heart dropped temporarily; I anticipated another six of the best from Mrs H, for stealing, but as Linda pointed out, who on earth was going to report it missing? She offered it to me, but I had already read it; well, the most interesting bits anyway.
I realised then that I was going to miss my bus unless I ran, never easy after a slippering because the skin seems to tighten up and my bottom was pretty sore. Being a bit late home was not a problem, but if I had missed that bus, there wasn’t another one for half an hour and questions would be asked. I just caught it, fortunately so, standing room only for me; all I had to do was not wince when I sat down for tea.
The next day, Linda brought me the present she had promised, the brand-new single from my favourite group. She was right in that, but I had warmed to her, in fact we got on quite well after our little adventure. Needless to say, the book found its way around the school, and eventually got confiscated and ‘borrowed’ by an English teacher. Nobody got the slipper, and in fact it became the subject of a lesson. It later became a modern classic. As for the single, well it was a lovely gesture, but I already had it, although the new copy was somewhat less worn than mine.
As for Mrs G; she didn’t have to spank us, having already punished us with the detention. I got the impression that it was less that she needed to, but more because she could. I never heard of her using the slipper after school again.
JT (Revised 2025)