A Prefect’s Lot

I’ve never known time pass so slowly. It’s a warm night but very dark as I look through the window of my small room. I shine my torch on the alarm clock that sits on the chest of drawers next to my bed. Heck! It’s twenty past two. I haven’t missed them, have I? No, surely not. I’ve been lying here quite awake, fully dressed and ready to go.

What was that? Was that a voice I heard? No, my imagination. Probably just the night air. No, it wasn’t! That was a voice. I heard it again. I slide off my bed and creep silently to my door. I turn the handle slowly, silently. The latch clicks as it releases – damn! Out into the corridor now, moving slowly along to the west staircase because that is the one nearest to the side entrance. I freeze as the floorboards creak, then start walking again, more slowly and more carefully.

I hear a noise from downstairs, two floors down, on the ground floor. A door bangs quietly – that must be the inner door with the spring closing device. It’s always difficult to shut that one silently! They’re coming up the stairs now, quietly, but I can almost sense them climbing slowly and warily. They know I’m duty prefect tonight and they know I’d like nothing better than to catch them coming back late without permission after a trip into town.

They’re on the first floor landing now, and I can barely conceal my excitement. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to catch Sara Tomkinson for months. Wealthy parents, good looks, great figure, good at games and good academically too. Never in trouble either, well never been caught – until now! I wonder who she’s with. There’s certainly two of them. Sara’s popular with everyone, damn her. It could be anyone.

They’re coming up the next stairway now, getting near. I step back a few paces into the shadows. They should turn left away from me, assuming they head in the direction of Sara’s room. There’s a head, then another one. Sara’s the taller one, not sure who the other one is. Sure enough, they do turn left. I let them get a few paces ahead before I start following them. They’re whispering to each other, interspersed with silly little giggles. I wonder if they’ve been drinking alcohol. That’s a real no-no. Oh, if only they’ve been drinking alcohol! Then I’ve really got them.

They’ve stopped. Let’s see, that’s – that’s Anthea Rawlings’ door. She’s a prefect too! It can’t be, but it is! The door’s open now, and Anthea is just about to go inside.

“Good evening girls. A pleasant evening out, was it?” I say brightly as I walk up to them.

“Who’s that?” Anthea asks, peering into the darkness.

“Who do you think? Clare Penhaligon, no less.” Sara answers.

“Shall we go into your room, Anthea, or shall we wake the whole school up?” I can hardly contain my glee.

Anthea goes inside, and Sara follows with me close behind. I shut the door after us. Anthea, dark-haired, slim and athletic, five feet five inches in her stockinged feet, except that tonight she’s wearing very high heels and a very short red dress. Sara is taller, about five feet nine inches with lovely long blonde hair and a slightly heavier build. She looks absolutely gorgeous in a short black dress.

“Look Clare, it’s late and we want to get to bed.” Sara starts out defensively.

“I know, Sara, way past my bedtime.” I answer. “The trouble is, it should be way past your bedtime too.”

“Look, you’re not going to make an issue out of this, are you?” Anthea tries the ‘grown up girls’ routine. “We did have permission to go into town, you know.”

“Until eleven o’clock, I believe, Anthea. That is, if I recall the exceat book correctly. And I’m sure I do. It’s now gone half past two.”

“We missed the bus.” Sara retorts, still sounding somewhat miffed.

“It would only take an hour to walk it, Sara! And there are such things as taxis, you know.”

“So what are you going to do, Clare? Report us? We’d get a detention at most.”

“A detention?” I resist the urge to laugh out loud. “You’d get a detention for being half an hour late, Sara. Not three and a half hours late!”

“Well come on, it’s getting even later. Just what are you going to do, Clare?”

“I’m not sure yet, Sara. Look, I’m supervising in the library tomorrow between 11.00 and 12.00. Come and see me then, and I’ll let you know what I’ve got planned for you. Goodnight!”

Before they get a chance to object, I turn and walk steadily away.

The following morning, I feel a bit tired but it will be worth it. I can’t wait for eleven o’clock to come round. My first two lessons, a double Chemistry, pass so very slowly, then it’s break time and off to the library, arriving nicely on the dot of eleven.

There’s only a small handful of girls in the library doing private study, and they’re quiet enough, so I sit at a table well away from them and get on with some revision of my own. Sara and Anthea keep me waiting until just after eleven-thirty, but then they would, wouldn’t they? The looks on their faces suggest they aren’t too happy to be here.

“Good morning, ladies.” At least I’m smiling. “There, see! You can get to a place on time when you put your minds to it. Do sit down.”

“Okay, what have you got in store for us, Clare?” Anthea asks.

“In store for you, Anthea?”

“Yes, Clare. What punishment have you got lined up for us?”

“Oh, I do like that word, Anthea. And I’m glad you realise you are going to be punished.”

“Could we get on with it, please Clare?” Sara buts in. “Only I’ve got a game of tennis in half an hour and I’ll need time to get changed.”

I ignore her. “First the good news, girls. I’ve decided not to involve the headmaster.”

“Oh, thank you.” Sara answers sarcastically.

Anthea gives Sara a cold look. “Yes, thanks for that, Clare. That could have got me into a bit of bother.” She says with some sincerity.

It’s true that Mr William Hargreaves, our dear beloved headmaster, would have taken a very dim view of a prefect like Anthea getting into trouble. She’d almost certainly have lost her prefect status, and that would have been just the start of it.

I smile in acknowledgement of her gratitude. “My pleasure, Anthea.”

“I don’t think you should be too grateful until you’ve heard just what she has got planned for us, Anthea.” Sara cautions. “It might make a visit to Willie Hargreaves seem positively enchanting.”

“You know me too well, Sara.” I smile again.

Anthea doesn’t look very happy.

“Come on, out with it.” Sara prompts me.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have your botties smacked, girls. After all, staying out until two-thirty in the morning is pushing it a bit.”

“Absolutely not!” Sara exclaims.

“No, no way.” Anthea agrees.

“Well, it’s your choice of course, girls. But whilst, I might have ruled out our dear headmaster I most certainly haven’t ruled out our house mistress and deputy head, Miss Eliza Stone.”

Both girls are speechless, so I carry on. “I’m sure you remember what she was saying, now when was it? Was it really just two days ago? Something about girls making sure that if they were allowed out for an evening it was really important they got back before curfew? And didn’t she mention any girl failing to get back in time being severely dealt with, and not being allowed out again? Am I not correct?”

“Go ahead, if you really want to, Clare.” Sara says boldly. “She can’t expel us, suspend us or stop Anthea being a prefect.”

“True, but she could give you lots of Saturday detentions, extra duties and checks to make sure you were where you were supposed to be, and of course no evenings out again. Doesn’t sound terribly pleasant to me.”

“And, just suppose we were to entertain your little alternative,” Anthea finds her tongue.

“Hold on, Anthea!” Sara buts in.

“No, let’s hear her out.” Anthea overrules her friend.

“Okay, Anthea.” I try hard not to look too smug. “If I do it then obviously it has to be the slipper. I think twelve whacks would be about right, don’t you? After all, this is really quite a serious matter and what’s the slipper to two hardy girls like you?”

“Twelve?” Anthea exclaims. “That’s a bit strong, Clare.”

“No! No! No!” Sara makes her feelings clear, but Anthea is definitely thinking about it. I’m feeling just a little bit optimistic.

“I don’t mind the whacking so much,” Anthea starts thinking out aloud, her eyes looking vacantly at the far wall.

“No, definitely not!” Sara reinforces her point of view, but Anthea isn’t listening.

“After all, I suppose we were rather out of order.”

“Exactly.” I confirm.

“I know we should have had a little word with you, Clare, as you were the duty prefect. Then you wouldn’t have had to stay up half the night.”

“That is the accepted form, Anthea.” I agree, but it would have really thwarted my little plan if they had, and that would have been so disappointing.

“I suppose we do owe Clare her bit of retribution, Sara.” Anthea looks at Sara to see whether she can be moved.

“Possibly.” Sara concedes. “But her smacking my bottom is not on the cards.”

Silence prevails for a good few seconds, and I feel Sara’s abject refusal is having more influence on Anthea than I would like.

“Oh dear.” I say. “Looks like some long nights in and lots of weekend detentions, doesn’t it girls?”

Sara sighs, and makes as though she is about to get up and leave, but Anthea stays put.

“Hold on, Sara.” Anthea takes time for another little think before she looks directly at me. “Make it six whacks, not twelve, and it’s to be done by a teacher in view of our seniority. Not the headmaster and not Miss Stone. Agreed?”

“Ten.” I say.

“Eight.” Anthea says.

“Agreed,” I say.

“And not by you, by a teacher?”

“Agreed. But I get to watch.”

“Agreed.” She says.

“Hold on.” Sara protests.

“Shut up!” Anthea snaps.

“State of dress?” I query.

“Trousers, of course.” Anthea replies.

“You’d cheat.” I counter.

“Alright, knickers then.”

“And this goes for both of you?” I cast a doubtful eye in Sara’s direction.

“Yes.” Anthea agrees.

“No.” Sara doesn’t.

“Trust me, it will be both of us.” Anthea says firmly, and yanks Sara to her feet. “We must go.”

“Okay, I’ll make the arrangements and catch up with you later,” I say. “Presumably tonight would be good for you?”

“That’s fine,” Anthea says as she leads Sara from the room, just as the bell sounds to announce lunch.

Now, I’m in a bit of a quandary. I need to find a teacher who will go along with my little plan and give the slipper to Sara and Anthea. That’s not too much of a problem; there’s four or five I could think of straight away that could be talked into it. I need to decide, though, whether I go for a real old dragon that will whack the hell out of those two or whether I go for someone really young which will be especially humiliating for them. There’s a couple of male teachers I could think of, but then Sara and Anthea might enjoy that. No, got to be female, I think.


“Oh, Clare. Hi’.”

Joanna Tomkinson is in her final year of teacher training and here for just one term as part of her course. She’s twenty-one, blonde and quite attractive. She also likes the senior girls to call her by her first name, not that that’s very popular with some of the older staff I could mention.

“Joanna, I have a little problem.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Clare. Can I help?”

Putty in my hands!

“Well, actually you can, Joanna. In fact, I think you’d be absolutely ideal.”

“Really? How.”

“Well you see, Joanna, a couple of senior girls have got themselves in a bit of bother and, to cut a long story short, we’re trying to keep them out of serious trouble, you know, like with the headmaster or anything.”

“Sounds like a good idea, but how can I help?”

“We need a teacher, Joanna.”

“Well, I’m nearly a teacher. Will I do?”

“I’m sure you’ll do admirably, Joanna.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Like I said, Joanna, I’m trying to keep this as short as possible but, basically, they’ve each agreed to take a slippering as their punishment.”

“Oh right. Even senior girls can still get the slipper, can they?”

“Oh yes. Part of the school tradition. That will never change.”

“So, what do you need from me?”

“It’s just that, being senior girls, they’ve asked that a teacher actually administer the punishment. Some girls don’t mind a prefect doing it, but these girls have asked for a teacher. If possible, I’d like to go along with their request.”

“I see,” Joanna was starting to cotton on, and sounding a bit dubious. “And you want me to…?”

“Do the honours please, Joanna, if you’d be so kind.”

“Oh Clare! I really don’t know about that.”

“Is there a problem, Joanna?” I ask, all innocent.

“I’ve never slippered a girl before in my life, Joanna. I mean, I wouldn’t know how. That is, I just have no experience.”

“I did suspect, Joanna, to be honest.” I need to say this just right. “Look, I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I have heard there are one or two girls getting away with murder in your classes. In fact, even they are surprised you haven’t disciplined them.”

“Disciplined them?” Joanna was looking distinctly worried. She knew as well as I did that her ability to maintain order in her classes was one of the things she would be assessed on. “You don’t mean slippered them?”

“Most teachers do find it amazingly effective, Joanna.”

“And you think I should do that too?”

“I do, Joanna. I really do.”

“But I have no experience, Clare.”

“Precisely.” Got her! “That’s why this is a golden opportunity for you get some practice. I shall be there to assist and I’ll give you any guidance you need. You won’t be able to do any real harm to two strapping eighteen year olds. It’ll be perfect!”

“And you say they’ve agreed to it?”

“Yes. It keeps it nice and private, you see.”

“Right. Well, if you think it will be alright?”

“Fantastic! It’s all happening in the prefects’ common room at four-thirty. It should be nice and deserted by then. Is that okay?”

“Yes, fine. I’ll be there.”


I feel quite excited as the end of the school day approaches and can’t wait for the final lesson to come to an end. Then I go to the prefects’ common room and wait. There are six or seven others there getting their books sorted and such things, but by ten past four they’ve all gone.

I decide that a little rearrangement of the furniture might prove useful. There’s a big table in the centre of the room and at first I’m tempted to make use of it, but then I decide one of the chairs arranged around the table might be a better prospect. It’s an old dining chair, but has a woven cane seat which I think has certain interesting connotations. I’m in the process of dragging everything around when Joanna Tomkinson taps on the door and peeps round the corner.

“Hi Clare. Am I too early?”

“No, I’m just getting things ready.” As I speak, I’ve just finished clearing the centre of the room. “There, we’ll use that.” I say, as I place my carefully selected chair right in the middle of the space I’ve cleared.

“That’s what they’re going to have to, um…?” Joanna asks.

“That’s right.” I answer. “It’s just the right height so that when they’re bending over you’ll be able to get a really good swing at their bottoms.”

“Oh dear, I’m already feeling quite nervous.”

“There’s absolutely no need. You’ll be fine and I shall be right here guiding you all the way.”

“But, how hard should I hit them?”

“As hard as you can, Joanne.” I enjoy saying that. “They’re only getting eight. We’ve sort of agreed that it should be eight good hefty whacks rather than, say, a dozen lesser ones. That’s just what they’ve chosen.”

“Right. I see.” Joanne accepts my answer, although still seems a bit tentative.

I go over to an old filing cabinet, open the bottom drawer and delve inside.

“Ah, here it is!” I stand up straight again. “You’ll be needing this.” I hand Joanne a size twelve plimsoll, once white, now looking a little grubby, but then it has seen a fair bit of use over the years.

Joanne takes the plimsoll and tries a couple of practice swings. “It’s big, isn’t it?”

“All the better for smacking naughty girls’ bottoms, Joanne.”

“Yes, of course.” Joanne mulls that thought over for a couple of moments. “I suppose what I really need is a bit of practice to get my confidence.”

“Exactly.” I say. “And these two are just perfect.”

“No, I meant before they get here.”

“Oh, I don’t really think we can grab some poor unfortunate passing girl and ask her to take a few whacks just for you to get some practice, Joanne.”

Joanne chuckles. Thank goodness she’s lightening up a bit. Unfortunately, then she gets a bright idea. “I don’t suppose I could have a couple of practice goes on you, could I Clare?”

I’m lost for words. Sadly, that gives her the chance to go on.

“It really would help me, Clare. Just a couple. I’ll go easy on you.”

What can I say? I can finally hear myself speaking, I just can’t believe what I’m saying.

“Oh, all right then. Just remember I’m the good girl.”

Joanne giggles. “Of course I will.”

“Okay.” I stand in front of her and swivel so my left arm is nearest her, then I bend down. I’m wearing quite tight-fitting black trousers and I can feel the seat stretching itself across my bottom. “Be quick.” I caution. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“Won’t they be bending over the chair, Clare?” Joanne asks.

“Well, yes,” I say.

“Then shouldn’t I practice with you in the same position? Just to give me an idea of the height, you know, of the target, so to speak?”

I’m getting worried about the time. It’s damn near four-thirty. “Okay.” I sigh. “Just be quick, that’s all.”

I troop over to the chair and stand behind it, and Joanne follows me. My ears fail to detect any sound of footsteps in the corridor outside, so I bend over the back of the chair thrusting my head down until it practically touches the woven cane seat. My trousers are really straining against my bottom, but I consider it’s better to go along with the game, then Joanne will get a better picture of how I want her to treat Sara and Anthea.

“This is how they’ll need to position themselves, Joanna.” I say. “Make sure their knickers are really tight across their bottoms. That way, each whack will sting much more.”

“I see,” Joanne says from somewhere behind me. “Knickers, Clare?”

Oh shit! “Er, yes, Joanna. The girls will be getting it across the seat of their knickers. That’s been agreed.”

“Well, if they’re going to be whacked across the seat of their knickers, shouldn’t I practice with you the same? To make it realistic, I mean.”

“No time, Joanna. They’ll be here any second.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed. “Okay.”

Within two seconds something, I presume the size twelve slipper I’ve just handed Joanne, swipes me full force across my backside.


“Oh dear, was that too hard?” Joanne asks.

“No, no that was fine,” I say, not exactly lying through my teeth although that was by far the hardest blow from a slipper that I’ve ever experienced.

“Let me try another one.” Joanne asks.

“Okay,” I say, bracing myself. Just as well, a split second later and Joanne whacks me again with an almighty blow against my poor bottom.

“Oouch!!” I cry, my eyes beginning to water. “You’re certainly getting the hang of it, aren’t you?” I say as I begin to get up.

“Can I try just one more?” Joanne asks. “Please!”

What’s wrong with this woman? Surely two is more than enough. “Okay.” I say reluctantly, and get back down again. “We’ll have to make this the last, though.”

“Okay.” She says. “Should I make it any harder?”

“Yes, if you can,” I answer, thinking of the great pleasure I’m going to have watching Sara and Anthea getting walloped by our Joanna here.

Unusually, Joanna waits for a good few seconds before the next whack, during which time I can hear her moving about a bit behind me. Then, suddenly, an almighty thwack echoes round the room as Joanna delivers a massive swipe across my poor bottom.

“Ooooww!!” I cry, standing up and instantly massaging my sore backside.

“Are you sure I’m not hitting too hard?” Joanna asks. I look at her a little oddly, because it’s not so much concern about my well-being I see on her face so much as, well, satisfaction.

“Oh no,” I say, wondering whether I’ll be able to sit down this evening. I’m still rubbing my poor bottom when the door bursts open.

“Sorry we’re late,” Sara announces. “Got held up with Mrs Burrows and you know Mrs Burrows, we just couldn’t get away.” It was true that Mrs Burrows could talk for England, and obviously mere girls couldn’t be rude to a teacher and cut her off in mid-flow.

“You’ve been busy.” Anthea looks at the rearranged furniture, then at Joanna. “You’re the chosen one, are you Joanna?”

“Yes, hope you don’t mind,” Joanna replies.

“No, that’s fine.” Anthea says. “Have you had much practice with the slipper, Joanna?”

“Only a little bit.” The young teacher answers. “I was hoping for a little more before dealing with two such senior girls as yourselves.”

“Can’t be helped, Joanna. I’m sure we’ll manage.”

This isn’t exactly how I’d envisaged this going, with everyone chatting away like this. Neither Sara nor Anthea appear as unhappy as I’d expected. No matter.

“Shall we get on?” I say. “Or shall I put the kettle on for coffee first?” That was me being sarcastic.

“Good idea!” Sara says. “Mine’s white with one sugar.”

“White and no sugar, please.” Anthea says.

“Same for me, please.” Joanna chirps in. “White and no sugar.”

Bloody cheek! Here’s me supposed to be in charge of these two getting their bottoms well walloped and I end up as kitchen helper! I put the kettle on and start arranging some mugs.

“So, when you used the slipper, Joanna, did you find it had the desired effect?” I hear Sara ask.

“Oh, I think so, Sara. Although maybe I could have used it a bit harder.”

“It wasn’t the recipient complaining, surely?”

“Funny you should say that. It was, actually.” Joanna looks in my direction, and I glare back.

“How odd.” Anthea says.

“So, we’re going over the back of the chair, are we?” Sara asks, looking at the chair I carefully positioned in the centre of the room.

“That’s right.” Joanna gets in before me.

“Is this the way you did it before, Joanna?” Sara continues.

“Yes it is, actually. I was told it was the most effective. Something about getting the target area at the right height for a good swing.”

“Absolutely,” Sara answers.

“I expect Clare has told you how we’re going to be, Joanna.” Anthea speaks. “Trousers down, I mean.”

“Yes, just before you arrived, actually.”

“Is that how your previous victim was, Joanna?”

“No.” Joanna replies. “No. Well, we sort of had to do it fairly quickly so there wasn’t time.”

“Really?” Anthea smiles, and I start handing round the coffee.

“So, it’s eight whacks each for us two, isn’t it Clare?” Sara asks.

“That’s right.”

“Probably a few more than you’ve done before, eh Joanna?”

“Yes, the last one got just three.”

“Right.” Sara nods and takes a sip of her coffee.

“I do think you two are being incredibly brave,” Joanna says.

“Why’s that, Joanna?” Anthea asks.

“I hear you’d prefer to take eight really good, hard whacks rather than twelve more regular ones.”

My heart misses a beat. This is suddenly going all wrong.

Sara and Anthea are both looking rather angry, and in my direction, but then, after they exchange looks, they start smiling. I have visions of me ending back over that chair, and it won’t be for just three whacks either!

Joanna is quite innocently continuing to drink her coffee, but the other two are still looking straight at me. I’m waiting for them to spill the beans and deny they ever said any such thing. This could get me into serious trouble. In fact, I could be begging them to slipper me rather than reporting me to the headmaster. That would be a caning for sure.

“Well.” Anthea speaks at last. I feel like closing my eyes as I wait to hear my fate. “That’s correct.”


“After all, Sara and I were very naughty staying out late like that, weren’t we Clare?” Anthea continues.


“And such naughtiness does have to be properly punished, doesn’t it Clare?”


“And by taking a firm punishment when we’re naughty, then we can feel okay about severely punishing another naughty girl when the occasion warrants it, can’t we Clare?”


Oh shit!

“Have we all finished our coffee?” Anthea asks. Everyone says they have. “Then shall we begin?”

My enthusiasm has suddenly drained, but the others seem to have found theirs.

“Who would you like to go first, Clare?” Sara asks.

“Oh, I don’t mind.”

“Okay. Then Anthea can go first.”

Anthea seems a little put out at Sara selecting her to go first, but nonetheless she goes over to the chair in the middle of the room with Joanna and the two stand behind its back, looking at each other with faint smiles on their faces.

Anthea is wearing a pair of grey trousers with a thin white pinstripe pattern and a plain white long-sleeved cotton top, all very smart with her dark hair. She turns to face the back of the chair and undoes the button securing the waistband of the trousers. Now she’s sliding the zip down and I can already see a little of the white panties she has on underneath.

I make a decision. Whatever I’m going to face afterwards, I’m going to take full advantage for the present. As Anthea pushes her trousers down, I walk round behind her.

“Right down to your ankles, please Anthea.” I order. “And tuck your blouse up out of the way too, please.”

Anthea turns and looks at me, somewhat surprised I’m being so authoritative. Nonetheless, she obeys quite readily and soon I get a nice view of Anthea’s bum encased in tight-fitting, fairly brief white panties.

“Bend over when you’re ready,” I say.

I think I spot a slight reticence now, because Anthea looks round behind her and to her left, takes a long hard look at the large plimsoll Joanna is holding and, I’m sure, notes the smiling, rather evil look on the young teacher’s face. Only then does she start bending forward. To her credit, though, she pushes her head down low close to the woven cane seat of the chair so that her cute little bottom is thrust well out and making a fine target.

I notice that Joanna looks across at me, raising an eyebrow asking me whether she should start.

“Okay, Joanna. You know what to do.”

The teacher takes a small step forward and practices a little swing, making sure she has her stance just right. Then she swings the slipper well back and delivers a really forceful swipe across Anthea’s bottom.

“Unhh!!” Anthea grunts as the slipper bangs loudly onto its target. If Joanna used the same force when she whacked me, I can see exactly why it smarted so much!

“Unhh!!” Another whack and another grunt. Anthea is taking it well, not that I ever doubted she would. She’s certainly going to end up with a sore bum, though, if Joanna carries on like this.

“Unnhh!!” A slightly louder grunt. The whacking is obviously hurting, and I notice Sara is now standing and looking over my shoulder at the action. I feel a little uncomfortable at her close presence, but I guess Anthea is feeling rather more discomfort around the area of her bottom.

“Unnhh!! If today is the first day Joanna has ever used a slipper, she’s certainly not showing it! I just hope she keeps some of her strength to use on Sara.

Unnhh!!” Each whack of the slipper crashes into Anthea’s backside with a mighty bang that seems to reverberate round the room. I can see the prefect screw her face up as each stroke hits the target, but she holds her position perfectly.

“Unnhh!!” Sara breathes in, as though making a comment on the force of each stroke applied to Anthea’s bottom. I can see her point, particularly when she knows she’s going to be getting the same shortly.

“Unnhh!!” Joanna has no such worries and keeps whacking away, apparently relishing the task. Anthea’s right knee just buckles a little as the slipper whacks her again, so I guess she’s really feeling it now.

“Oooochh!!” After a little pause, Joanna swings the plimsoll down very firmly and delivers an almighty whack to Anthea’s poor bottom. Both the prefect’s knees buckle slightly this time.

“There! I believe that makes eight,” Joanna announces and steps back a pace, admiring the seat of Anthea’s white knickers and, I guess, the red blotchy marks on the parts of her bottom that aren’t covered by her underwear.

Anthea eases herself up, puffs her cheeks out and rubs her bottom quite vigorously. After a good few moments’ massaging, she reaches down and pulls up her trousers. The waist button and zip are a bit of a fiddle to do up again, so I assume her bottom is as swollen as it now looks. She looks around vaguely in my direction, but I swivel round and put my arm behind Sara’s back, pushing her forward.

“Okay Sara,” I say. “Let’s see you get yours.”

Sara is a bit more hesitant in taking her turn at the chair than Anthea was, but she gets there and stands untidily behind it while she unfastens the very pale blue jeans she is wearing, having to unfasten a leather belt as well as the zip and top button before she can push them down. She, too, is wearing a white top, but it’s not as long as Anthea’s and doesn’t reach down as far, so Sara’s choice of vivid pink knickers are immediately noticeable. I still feel a little guidance is needed, though.

“Okay, Sara, you know the drill. Jeans down to your ankles and top tucked well up. Get yourself over the back of the chair when you’re ready.”

Sara actually pushes the jeans down very slowly, and such is the stiffness of the denim that she has to shove them all the way down. Tucking her top up also seems to take her a very long time until she is satisfied it won’t come tumbling back down again.

Now Sara has both hands on the back of the chair and she looks across at me with not a happy face. Then she too looks behind her, firstly at Joanna and then a long hard look at the large white plimsoll before turning back again to face the chair. Taking a deep breath, she finally bends down over the chair, but not far enough for my liking.

“Come on, Sara. Get your head right down and stick your bum out. You’re here for a good spanking, not a fashion show!” Oh, Sara doesn’t like that! She’s giving me such a wicked look. Still, she is now forcing herself further down over the back of the chair and her rather lovely round bottom at the top of her elegant long legs is now protruding quite splendidly.

Joanna looks at me, and I give her the nod. She immediately gives the slipper a long hard swing back before sending it down and lets it crash into Sara’s bottom with a resounding bang.

“Aaaaaahh!!” At least Sara’s going to get it just as hard as Anthea. Her shrill little shriek contrasts with Anthea’s more guttural grunting. Joanna takes scant notice though. She seems far more interested in measuring up the next whack, a point I can quite appreciate with Sara’s cute round bottom and tight little pink panties lined up just in front of her.

Aaaaaahh!!” Sara dips slightly at the knees. Oh good gracious! Buckling already? At just the second stroke? That really won’t do.

“Keep still, please Sara.” I say.

“This does hurt you know!” She snaps back, but at least has the courage to straighten her knees and thrust her bottom out for the next whack. Joanna doesn’t disappoint.

“Aaaaaahh!!” Another firm resounding stroke bangs into Sara’s fine bottom, quite low down where already the uncovered lower bum cheeks are beginning to colour nicely. Sara remains fidgety, but at least holds her bottom still.

“Aaaaaahh!!” Joanne is really getting into this! The slipper crashes into the lower area of Sara’s bottom again, and the size of the plimsoll means that more or less all of the sixth form girl’s backside is affected by each whack. Good stuff!

“Aaaaaahh!!” I like these little squeals that Sara makes as the slipper strikes. She’s bobbling about after each whack, but very good at quickly getting back to position for the next one, so I can’t really complain.

“Aaaaaaaahh!!” Ah, the shrieks are getting a little louder now, and Sara’s bottom is certainly looking quite red where the brief cut of her pink knickers let’s me see. More of a knee buckling this time too. Only two to go. I’m not sure I’m looking forward to what happens when Sara’s whacking is over.

“Aaaaaaaahh!!” A big buckle at the knees this time, and a bit more fidgeting too. So, Sara’s definitely feeling this punishment. But, good as gold, she’s already straightened her legs and stuck her bum out.

Joanna takes her time, obviously well aware this is the last one. She’s going to put maximum effort into this one, and I can see from the look on Sara’s face she knows all too well what to expect.

“Eeeeeeeooowww!!!” Our young new teacher really swings the slipper down onto poor old Sara’s little pink knickers and lets her have a thunderous whack across her backside. I’m sure Sara felt that one!

“And that makes eight, I believe.” Joanna steps back and just briefly looks at Sara who is now standing upright and rubbing her bottom quite frantically. “Shall I give you this?” She hands me the plimsoll. “Do you need me for anything else?”

“Thanks,” I say, as I take the slipper, but Joanna is looking at Anthea, who shakes her head.

“Right. Thanks for the practice, girls. Goodnight!”

We all murmur our goodnights as Joanna leaves.

Sara has settled down a bit now, and is pulling her jeans up and fastening them. They’re very tight and proving hard to do up.

“I’ll just put this away.” I say, rather hopefully, starting to move towards the cabinet where we keep the slipper.

“Don’t be silly,” Anthea says, blocking my way.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“Joanna came and saw us because firstly she had doubts that Sara and I had actually agreed to be slippered and secondly she wanted to make sure we were happy with her doing the whacking. She was worried we might not consider her a proper teacher. As we chatted, a few things came out.”

“Oh,” is all I can think of.

“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself, madam?” Anthea is standing in front of me with her arms folded. Sara is hovering by my side. I shrug, not really able to think of anything worthwhile to say, certainly nothing that’s going to get me out of this little situation.

“You just couldn’t settle for winning gracefully, could you?” Anthea goes on. “You’d got us fair and square. You obviously wanted to make us suffer, but you couldn’t settle just for a slippering, could you? No, you wanted more. It was humiliating enough having to agree to take a spanking at our age, let alone getting thrashed hard as well!”

“I’m sorry, Anthea.” I say, rather weakly. “But when Joanna was asking how hard she was supposed to whack you, well, the temptation was just too great.”

“I think you owe us both an apology, Clare.”

“Yes, Anthea. I’m very sorry I made it worse for you. Sorry, Sara.”

“Apology accepted,” Anthea says.

“Yes, it’s okay,” Sara adds quietly.

“Do you want a coffee?” I ask, hopefully.

“I think you owe us something else too, don’t you Clare?” Anthea says.

I don’t reply. I just go over to the chair, stand behind it and start unfastening my black trousers. As I push them down to my ankles I see Anthea handing Sara the plimsoll. Sara looks across at me with an extremely evil smile on her face.

My trousers are down now, so I tuck my white blouse up well out of the way and bend over the back of the chair. It’s a good height for this sort of thing; at least I got something right!

The girls are approaching me now. Anthea stands beside me and places a hand on my back. Sara disappears from view; I can guess what she’s doing.

“What do you think, Sara?” Anthea asks. “Four each, or should we make it eight each?”

“Eight each?” I practically scream. Sixteen whacks? I won’t be able to sit down for a week!”

“Oh, I’m sure you will, Clare honey,” Anthea replies. “You might be feeling a bit sore tomorrow, though. You’ll have to be careful with those hard wooden seats, won’t you?”

“And don’t forget I’ve already had young Joanna whacking me as hard as she could.”

“Okay, four each,” Anthea agrees.

“Oh, I’m disappointed. Sara says, sarcastically.

“Thanks,” I say, with genuine feeling!

“But you make the coffee, Clare.” Anthea continues.

“Fair enough.” Say I.

“And…” Anthea wants more.

“Yes?” I question with some hesitancy.

She pats the seat of my rather flimsy black panties.

“Oh no!” I respond.

“I do think so, don’t you Clare?” Anthea pats my bum again. “What do you say, Sara?”

“I think Clare should choose, actually Anthea.” Sara’s answer surprises me. “If she really wants to, she can take eight whacks from each of us. Or, we take her pants down and she gets four each. It’s up to her, pain or humiliation.”

“Sounds fair,” Anthea agrees. “Aren’t we generous, Clare? Which would you like?”

For me, there’s no choice. “Take them down.”

“I’ll do the honours.” Anthea grabs my black knickers and tugs them down to around my ankles. I get another pat on the bum and then Anthea says: “Okay, Sara. Let her have it.”

I’m definitely not looking forward to… “Ooooucchh!!”

I feel an almighty smack across my poor bare bottom, easily on a par with what Joanna was dishing out to me when she was practicing, except that now I have no protection at all. The slipper feels rough and hard where the sole makes contact with my bare bum.

“Ooooucchhh!!” Sara is obviously intent on getting her revenge with a vengeance, and I can’t really blame her. I squirm a bit, but thrust my bum out for my next whack.

“Uuuunnnhh!!” It catches me fully in the centre of my bottom and smarts like hell. Sara’s only got one more, so I guess this is going to be extra hard. I push my bottom out and brace myself.

“Eeeeeeeesshhh!!” It was extra hard!! Oh, my poor bottom is really throbbing now. I blink a few times to stop the tears forming in my eyes. To my right, Sara is handing the slipper to Anthea, who then disappears behind me while Sara stands next to me.

“I hope that hurt,” Sara says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“It did, thank you.”

“Fair?” She asks.

“Oh yes.” I reply.

“Hold tight!” Comes a warning from Anthea, and I brace myself.

“Oooocchh!!” Anthea clearly intends to punish me just as much as Sara. I have to say my bottom is really rather sore now, and it’s becoming harder to keep still and let myself be whacked again.

“Uuuuunnhh!!” I feel my knees buckle a little, just like Sara’s did, and I know why now! I feel extremely vulnerable, bending over the chair with my bare bum thrust up ready to be smacked again even though losing my knickers and saving myself another eight whacks is looking like a very good deal.

“Aaaaaahhh!!” Another resounding smack across my bare bum, and I hang on to the edge of the seat to steady myself as the rubber sole scorches my bottom again. It’s the last one coming up and I make an extra effort to brace myself.

“Ooooooooowww!!” A loud bang reverberates round the room as Anthea really lets me have it. I dip at the knees several times against the searing pain and wriggle my bottom in the hopes that will make it more bearable.

I know I can get up now, but I need another few moments before I can summon the strength. Anthea and Sara are both standing beside me, peering at my bottom and checking out the effects of their handiwork.

I ease myself upright and take a couple of deep breaths. “Okay?” I ask. Anthea gives me a gentle pat on my bare bum and they both walk away, leaving me to painfully reach down and pull up my black panties. They feel much tighter than a few minutes ago and, when I retrieve my black trousers from around my ankles, they too seem extra tight.

I walk across to where Anthea is putting the slipper back in the drawer, go past her and over to the kettle. I organise the mugs and, when I turn round, Sara and Anthea are both standing there offering their hands. I grasp their palms in turn and give each a good shake.

The End

© Emily Halshaw 2007