Home Discipline Sixties-style

“Hello, darling. I’m in the lounge,” Mrs Ann Sterling called as she heard her daughter come through the front door.

“Hello, mummy,” Jennifer Sterling answered after opening the lounge door and taking a couple of steps inside.

“How was school, darling?” Mrs Sterling looked up from her embroidery.

Her daughter smartly dressed, as always, in her school uniform of blue-and-white check gingham frock, navy blue blazer with the school crest, white knee-length socks and polished black shoes. She carried a brown leather satchel over her shoulder.

“Um, I’m afraid I’ve been naughty, mummy.”

“Naughty? You? That’s not like you. What happened?”

“Well, we were having a lower-sixth French lesson with old Miss Iver, and it was so boring. Susan Parker was sitting next to me, and she was finding the lesson awfully boring too. She started whispering in my ear, trying to make me laugh. I sort of pretended not to hear, but then she put her hand up my dress and began tickling my leg, which made me giggle out loud.

“Miss Iver then called me out to the front to explain why I was sniggering, and of course I couldn’t say anything without dropping Susan in trouble. I had to spend the rest of the lesson facing the blackboard. Then, when it was over, Miss Iver gave me a one-hour detention.”

“So, you’ll be in detention on Thursday after school?”

“That’s right, mummy. It’s going to be quite humiliating. I’ll probably be the only sixth form girl there.”

“Serves you right, Jenny. Presumably, Susan escaped punishment?”

“Yes, mummy.”

“Well, nothing we can do about that.”

“No, mummy. I certainly wouldn’t want to get her into trouble too.”

“Jenny, I’ve warned you before what would happen if you misbehaved at school, haven’t I?”

“Yes, mummy.”

Jenny sighed. She’d hoped that at her age this might be avoided.

“So, do you want it now or after you’ve served your detention?”

“Um, I suppose now would be better, mummy,” Jennifer replied, a rueful expression on her face.

“Up to your room, then Jenny.”

The seventeen-year-old sighed petulantly, but knew better than to argue the point. She turned and left the room before pounding up the stairs to her bedroom. Her mother checked the clock on the mantlepiece and decided to give her daughter ten minutes. She continued with her embroidery, keeping an ear out for any sounds coming from upstairs, but hearing nothing.

With the ten minutes up, Ann Sterling put her needlework down, smoothed down her fairly tight-fitting tweed skirt down, went into the hallway and began quietly climbing the stairs. She stopped at the closed door to Jennifer’s bedroom. After tapping gently on the door, she pushed it open and went inside. She found her daughter lying on her bed, face down, and just wearing her underwear of navy-blue knickers, white bra and a navy-blue vest, as required for her school’s uniform regulations.

“Where do you keep your table-tennis bat, Jenny?”

“It’s in the bottom drawer of my dressing table,” Jennifer admitted. “Couldn’t you just use your hand, mummy?”

“You’re seventeen, young lady! You ought to know better than to play around in a lesson. A hard bat smacking your bottom is no more than you deserve.”

“I suppose you’re right, mummy.”

With the table-tennis bat now in her hand, Mrs Sterling sat on the side of Jennifer’s bed and beckoned for her daughter to stand by her right side. She patted her thighs through the heavy tweed of her skirt, prompting Jennifer to place herself across her waiting lap.

“You won’t have to take my knickers down, will you, mummy?”

“Jennifer! I’ve always spanked you on your bare bottom. I’m hardly likely to stop now, am I?”

“I suppose not, mummy,” Jennifer moaned, but cooperated with her navy-blue school regulation knickers being eased down until they were around her ankles.

“There,” Mrs Sterling proclaimed as she studied the naked, pale, clear-skinned buttocks.

She took hold of her daughter’s right arm and carefully folded it behind the girl’s back so she now had Jennifer securely held down across her lap. There would be little chance of her daughter evading the full force of the spanking.

“That really isn’t necessary you know, mummy. I’m ready to hold still and take my spanking.”

Despite the reassurance, Mrs Sterling held Jennifer’s arm firmly and pressed down on the girl’s back with her forearm.

“I know you mean that, Jenny, but it’s easy to say when you don’t yet have this bat pummeling your bottom. I don’t want you jumping around when the spanking starts to hurt. That’s all, darling.”

“Okay, mummy.”

Her daughter now silent, Mrs Sterling raised the table-tennis bat and began spanking it down on her daughter’s bare bottom.

“Ouch! Ouch!! Ouch!!!” Jennifer began to cry out after about eight smacks of the small bat had smacked down onto her naked buttocks. “That hurts, mummy!”

“Good. It’s meant to,” Mrs Sterling replied. “I really shouldn’t have to be doing this to a girl your age, you know, darling.”

“I know, mummy. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been naughty in Mrs Iver’s class. I know I have to be punished.”

Her mother didn’t answer. Instead, she continued raining smack after smack down onto her daughter’s bare bottom, noting that the pale surface was becoming distinctly red and sore-looking.

“Another ten smacks and you’re done,” Mrs Sterling announced.

“Thank you, mummy. I’m feeling really uncomfortable now! That bat really hurts, you know.”

“Hopefully, you’re getting the message then, darling. Don’t misbehave in school.”

“I know, mummy. Ouch!”

With the constant stream of spanks now ceased, Jennifer continued to lie flopped across her mother’s lap. She felt her mother gently running her hand over her bottom in a circular motion.

“It’s really sore, mummy.”

“Have you learnt your lesson, darling?”

“Yes, mummy.”

“Up you get then.”

Jennifer slowly raised herself off her mother’s lap and back onto her feet, not attempting to cover her nakedness, and only reaching down to pull her navy-blue knickers back up after she’d given herself a few soothing rubs.

“Put some trousers or a skirt on and come downstairs, darling. I’ll put the kettle on and we’ll have a nice cup of tea.”

“Yes, mummy. Thank you, mummy.”

The end.

© Kenny Walters 2024

Kenny is happy to correspond with readers of his stories at kennywalters@hotmail.com