Every Friday afternoon, after the end of classes, headmistress Alice Hughes of the Florence Naismith Boarding School for Girls, held a meeting with her head girl, Angela Lloyd, and deputy head girl, Karen Preston, to discuss relevant school business. This week was different. All business on the agenda was concluded except for Any Other Business, of which there was usually none. The girls began to gather their files and notes and make for a swift getaway.
They wanted to return to their dormitory so they could start getting themselves ready for their weekly girls’ Friday night out. An opportunity to get out of their school uniforms, dress up, put on make-up and perfume, and wear their hair however they wanted. They looked forward to a visit to the recently opened discotheque. Dance, listen to the music, chat to the local boys and alcohol was permitted for the over 18s. Headmistress Alice Hughes encouraged her sixth form to enjoy their weekends. If the girls studied hard during the week they should relax and, for a few hours, free themselves from the relentless drive for excellent academic achievement.
Of course, good responsible behaviour was a requirement, and any girl returning after the 11.30 pm curfew, or intoxicated, would be disciplined, supposedly by the head girl or her deputy. Indiscipline or poor performances inside the classrooms were handled by the teachers, but outside the classroom it was the responsibility of the head girl, her deputy and the ten prefects to make sure school rules were upheld and order maintained. The system had worked well for the last 98 years since the school was founded, but in the eyes of the headmistress there had been some notable lapses in recent weeks. To her chagrin, the punishment register showed no entries against misbehaving sixth formers. Not even prefects’ detentions. Miscreants were not being punished by Angela or Karen or the prefects.
The Headmistress spoke.
“Girls, before you leave there is an issue that I need to raise with you.” Her usual smiling, friendly demeanour appeared to have been replaced by a stern, authoritative attitude.
“The teaching staff, Matron and Mr Pickles, the janitor, are bringing to my attention the declining and rather poor behaviour of the fifth and sixth form girls. I have spoken to you on three previous occasions, but I am not seeing any improvement. In fact, the situation is getting worse.”
“I’ll immediately give it my attention, headmistress,” interjected Angela.
“Yes, you will, Angela. And I’m going to tell you how you’re going to do it,” responded the headmistress, showing no anger but nevertheless, firmness.
The Headmistress continued. “Helen Wagstaffe, apprehended by Matron, worse the wear for drink, trying to enter the premises in the early hours of Wednesday morning. Matron brought this to your attention but according to the punishment register you have not carried out the required punishment. There are several other instances of rule breaking that have gone unpunished.”
The girls sat uneasily on the sofa. Indeed, on Wednesday morning after breakfast, Matron had informed Angela of Helen’s late and intoxicated return, but Helen was Angela’s very good friend and although friendships should be put to one side in the matter of discipline, Angela had hoped a mild telling-off would be sufficient. Alice Hughes had other ideas.
“Tomorrow morning after breakfast, I will call the entire 5th and 6th forms to a meeting. I will explain that their behaviour has fallen below acceptable standards and corporal punishment is going to be enforced for serious breaking of school rules.”
The girls looked unhappy, but their level of unhappiness was about to increase.
“We will use Helen Wagstaffe as an example. I don’t like public spankings but we need to show the entire 5th and 6th forms that you mean business. I will call Helen forward, ask her to bend over, and you will deliver six swats to her bottom in front of your colleagues so they get the message. I realise Helen is your friend, but because of her wrongdoing she must be put through the process.”
Angela gulped. When she was appointed head girl, she knew she would have responsibilities for disciplining the students and had wielded the paddle regularly on the younger girls, but tried to avoid such treatment for the older girls. Generally, she found a mild telling-off, or perhaps a more severe scolding for serious offences, would do the trick. She was appalled at the prospect of having to spank her good friend in front of the entire 5th and 6th forms.
The headmistress patiently listened to Angela’s attempts to change her mind, but she remained adamant. Helen Wagstaffe must be spanked, and spanked properly, in front of her peers.
Shocked at receiving instructions to administer a spanking to her friend, Angela was further shocked and unprepared for the next turn of events, elucidated by Miss Hughes.
“Angela, to drive home my directive and to impress upon you of my determination to turn round this lowering of standards, I intend to spank you. I hold you responsible for failing to exercise control, and I need to give you an incentive to get it right in the future. So, I am awarding you twelve swats of the paddle, six of which are to be suspended and applied only if you fail to improve the discipline of the girls.”
Angela and Karen were stunned. Angela went to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Karen squeaked, “What about me, Miss?” wondering if she should also be subjected to a paddling.
“You will escape corporal punishment this time, but if Angela is required to attend for the second six swats, you will also be paddled. It’s your duty to support her. Your punishment, this time, will be to witness your friend being paddled.”
Alice Hughes cared for Angela. It was with good reason that she had appointed her as head girl. Having followed her progress through boarding school for seven years, she expected Angela to make the ideal head girl, and Angela had not disappointed until the recent falling away of discipline amongst the 5th and 6th formers.
Both girls were in a state of disarray. The headmistress felt sorry for Angela, but her previous verbal warnings had been ignored and now it was time to act. In a less severe tone, she addressed Angela once again.
“I can see this is upsetting you, but I need to do it to impress upon you the importance I attach to you effectively carrying out your responsibilities.”
She motioned Angela to stand. “Remove your blazer, and it might be preferable for you to slip out of your skirt.”
A tearful and still disbelieving Angela slowly complied, handing her blazer to Karen, kicking off her shoes and unzipping her tight fitting skirt. With a couple of wiggles, she eased it down her shapely bare legs. Karen dutifully knelt down and picked up the school uniform grey skirt. Angela stood self-consciously with her school blouse hardly covering her skimpy satin blue knickers.
In an exasperated tone, Alice Hughes spoke again to Angela.
“You see, this is my problem. I let you all wear whatever clothes you want within reason outside school hours, but I insist you wear regulation school uniform in the classroom. That’s not so hard is it? But look at you. As head girl, you are supposed to set an example. When you undress in the changing rooms, everyone will see you are not wearing regulation school knickers. What kind of an example is that? You are now going to receive one extra swat for non-compliance. And that’s a double whammy. A paddling with hardly any protection that regulation knickers would have given you.”
Angela had woken up on Friday morning, full of the joys of Spring. An important essay finished early before the weekend. A new dress to wear for the discotheque tonight. A first date with Eamon, her new boyfriend. Everything was good. But now she stood humiliatingly half-naked, about to receive a paddling from the lady she loved and to whom she owed so much. Karen squeezed her hand to show support. Alice felt pity for her head girl, but verbal warnings had not succeeded, and so a good spanking seemed appropriate.
“I don’t want to have to do this, Angela, but it’s necessary. I hope you understand. Lean over my desk. Karen, come round the other side of the desk and hold Angela’s hands to help keep her in position.”
And so it was. Karen took up a seated position enabling her to hold her friend’s hands to the desk. Rather than face Karen, Angela turned her head to one side and closed her eyes. Seven bruising swats followed at ten second intervals. Hard swats, not delivered with enthusiasm, but resulting in a very painful experience for the head girl.
She did not struggle and, to her credit, made the minimum fuss as each stroke of the paddle reigned down alternately on first her left cheek and then right cheek, finishing with a thunderous finale to the lower centre of her bottom. After a traumatic two minutes of having her bottom smacked, it was over and the resulting seven distinct bruises, taking on the semi-circular shape of the paddle, could clearly be observed. Dancing at the disco tonight would be interesting.
With difficulty, Angela raised herself from the desk. She could see stars, head spinning, tear-stained cheeks flushed, and she felt nauseous. Trembling and feeling unstable, she held onto the desk for a few seconds with one hand, whilst gently massaging her wounded derrière with her other hand.
Angela became conscious of both Karen and Alice looking at her. Alice still holding the paddle and displaying a sympathetic smile, Karen looking distinctly concerned. Time to pull herself together. Trying to hold back sniffles, she eased her tight-fitting skirt over her throbbing bottom. Karen helped her on with her blazer and offered her tissues supplied by the headmistress. Lastly, she stepped into her shoes. Bending down to adjust them was arduous to say the least. She made a brave attempt to compose herself.
“Well, ladies, are we clear? Do we understand each other?” asked the headmistress.
“Yes,” replied Karen.
“Angela?”
“There was no need for that,” muttered the aggrieved head girl.
“No point in sulking Angela. It’s done. You need to make sure you get the girls under control to avoid a second helping,” warned Alice, almost light-heartedly smacking the paddle against her hand.
“Tomorrow morning will be troubling, but once you have carried out Helen’s spanking, perhaps the young ladies of the 5th and 6th forms will get the message and start behaving themselves.”
The two girls nodded and turned to leave.
“Hope your sore bottom won’t spoil your evening, Angela. See you both tomorrow morning at 10.00,” smiled the headmistress.
On leaving the headmistress’s office, Angela caressed her sore bottom.
Karen held her and said, “Oh! My God. That was awful, Angela. How are you?”
“It’s agony,” mumbled Angela. “I just want to get back to the dormitory and cry.”
They reached their shared dormitory. Angela threw herself onto her bed, sobbing. Karen tried to console her with an arm around her shoulders and gently caressing and patting her friend’s ravaged bottom.
“I feel shattered,” Angela complained. “The pain is horrible. I feel so bad. It was unnecessary. The humiliation is gross. I’ll never be able to face her again. How could she hurt me so much?” wailed Angela. “I thought she really liked me.”
“She does, Angela. You know she does, but think about it. The girls have been getting out of hand just lately. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Take a shower, freshen up and we’ll go down to dinner. And you’ve got a hot date to look forward to.”
“The worst thing is, I’ve got to tell Helen that I’m going to be giving her a public spanking tomorrow morning. She’ll be mortified,” sobbed Angela.
“When are you going to give her the bad news?” asked Karen.
Angela took a few seconds to compose herself and give some thought to a rather tricky problem.
“I don’t want to spoil her night out. I’ll have a quiet word with her when we get back tonight after the disco.”
Hobbling around the dorm, gently rubbing her bottom and trying to work off the pain, Angela announced she would give dinner a miss and see if she could drum up the enthusiasm to get herself ready to meet with Eamon at the disco.
The night at the disco did not go well for Angela. She did not really want to be there. Suffering with the discomfort of a bruised bottom, headache, feverish, bad temper and concerned with how she would approach Helen with the news she was going to have to publicly spank her in the morning. Her first date with Eamon was a calamity, and she left early telling him it was her fault, not his.
She took a thirty-minute walk back by herself to the boarding school rather than the usual taxi ride with her friends, and arrived at her dorm at 9.30. First thing she did was to step out of her tight-fitting new dress and, looking in the full-length mirror, examined the black and blue bruising adorning her aching bottom.
“Grotesque!” she muttered to herself. “Why did she have to do that?”
There was a knock on the door. Wondering who it might be, Angela quickly put on her bathrobe and opened the door. Surprised and taken aback by the appearance of Helen Wagstaffe, the friend whom she was going to spank after breakfast tomorrow morning.
“Don’t look so shocked,” smiled Helen. “Alice told me what’s happening.”
“I’m really sorry, Helen,” stuttered Angela, completely forgetting the speech she had rehearsed to give her friend.
“No worries, honey. My fault. I deserve what’s coming to me. I would have preferred a private spanking though. Those fifth years are going to give me a hard time.”
Angela was bemused, but grateful her friend was aware of the situation and seemed to be taking it calmly. How could her friend appear so laid back? But there was a further twist.
“I suggest you make the most of it, Angela, and enjoy giving me a good spanking,” smiled Helen. Her smile turned into a chuckle when she saw Angela’s shocked expression.
“Come on, sweetie. I know you’ve got the hots for me,” announced Helen with a twinkle in her eye.
“What?” exclaimed the embarrassed head girl. “No way,” she spluttered, and could feel her cheeks burning bright red.
“If you say so,” responded Helen, disbelievingly. “Anyway, you will need to give me a proper spanking. Alice told me if she thinks you are going easy on me she will take over and I don’t want that.”
Still recovering from the shock of Helen’s announcement, a secret which she thought she had carefully hidden, Angie mumbled, almost incoherently, that she was really upset at the prospect of having to punish her best friend.
“You’ve just got to do what you’ve got to do,” said Helen philosophically, without any sign of rancour. “Come on, let’s have a look at your whacked bum.”
Angela had, many times, imagined a scenario of her close friend exploring her body, and now it was happening for real. Without hesitation, she allowed her bathrobe to fall to the floor and arched herself over the bed, just as though she was preparing herself to receive a spanking.
Helen gasped. “That is one hell of a belting you took there, girl,” she said as she gently traced her fingers over the distinct lines of the bruising.
Saturday morning, and breakfast for the girls of Florence Naismith was drawing to a close. The girls were buzzing. Some of the younger girls were whispering excitedly. Word had got out there was going to be a public spanking of a sixth former. Spankings in class, although not frequent, did happen. Prefect spankings were always in private. Furtive glances in the direction of Helen Wagstaffe, sitting at the dining table with the head girl, confirmed it was Helen who was the suspected recipient. Someone said the head girl had been spotted with a paddle discreetly hidden inside her blazer when entering the dining hall.
Headmistress Alice Hughes entered the hall, stood on the stage overlooking the girls sitting at their dining tables and addressed them. Dismissing the first to fourth year girls, she told the fifth and sixth year girls to remain. With some disappointment, the younger girls made their way from the dining hall, chattering and laughing. It was Saturday. Why wouldn’t they be in good spirits? A few lingered, hoping to get a view of a sixth former getting a spanking, but their hopes were dashed. They were ushered out of the hall by a teacher and the exit double doors firmly closed behind them.
The headmistress, supported by Matron and two teachers on the stage, proceeded to lecture the remaining older girls. Behaviour had deteriorated to a worryingly low standard. Evidence of smoking, curfew breaking, bad language, ignoring prefects’ instructions, untidiness in the dormitories, and generally disrupting the life of the school.
“This is where it stops,” lectured the headmistress. Firmly, calmly and displaying no outward anger. With the attention of every girl in the hall, she continued.
“Discipline will be upheld by the prefects. Those who break the rules will be punished with lines, detentions or spankings. The punishment register will be completed and sent to me every week. I will be interviewing regular offenders.”
Many of the girls shuffled uneasily. They knew they had been getting away with rule breaking due to the laissez-faire attitude of the head girl and her prefects, but clearly things were about to change. And to bring this home, Helen Wagstaffe was invited to join the headmistress on the stage. Helen made her way to the stage, followed by Angela now openly displaying the paddle.
You could hear a pin drop.
“Helen thought it was OK to return to school at 1.00 am in the morning, slightly intoxicated,” said the headmistress. “Our head girl is now going to demonstrate to Helen and the rest of you what will happen if rules are broken.”
One of the teachers dramatically placed a dining room chair into position. Helen, understandably anxious, was motioned to stand behind the chair and face her audience. She slowly bent herself over the back of the chair and reached down to grab the front legs, thus presenting her bottom for a spanking from her friend. She had dressed sensibly for the occasion. School uniforms were not required to be worn on Saturdays, and she opted for trousers rather more substantial that the thinner school uniform trousers and a stout pair of school regulation knickers. A loose-fitting plain white blouse seemed appropriate. Her shoulder-length curly brown hair was tied back into a pony tail.
Angela took up her position behind Helen and delivered the first swat, hard to the left cheek. The stinging blow causing Helen to cry out. Surprised at the intensity of the swat, she wriggled her bottom for a couple of seconds before settling to receive the next dose. It came with equal ferocity to the first strike, this time delivered to the right cheek. The reluctant spectators looked on with dismay as their popular colleague was subjected to a delivery of a gruelling six swat spanking.
Alice Hughes observed approvingly as her head girl administered the punishment. She liked Helen Wagstaffe, whose adventurous spirit reminded her of her own self as a pupil of the school some twenty-five years previously, but discipline had to maintained. Silence from the watching pupils as the head girl reluctantly wielded the paddle across her friend’s bottom. And then it was over.
“Thank you, Angela. That will do nicely,” commented the headmistress.
Addressing the stunned assembly, she warned, “Let that be a lesson to you all. Now dismiss and enjoy your weekend.”
Angela and Karen tried to administer some after-care attention to their friend, who was quietly sobbing. Angela felt guilty, thinking perhaps she had been over zealous, maybe blaming Helen for her own spanking.
Punishments forgotten, life at the school continued, albeit with much improved behaviour from the fifth and sixth formers.
The End
© Robert Roberts 2022