“OMG! What are you going to do?” Katie Holloway asked as the two girls stood in the privacy of the girls toilets in the sixth form building.

“I don’t know. What would you do?” Sandra Wilkins responded with a frown.

Before she could answer, the door swung open and the school’s head girl, Alison Davies, entered.

“I thought I’d find you two here. So, what are you gossiping about now?”

“Er, nothing, Alison. Nothing at all.” Katie replied.

“I don’t suppose Miss Hawkins’ name cropped up, did it?” Alison asked as she checked her make-up in the long mirror that stretched across most of the wall behind the line of sinks.

“Miss Hawkins?” queried Katie.

“Oh, come off it. The whole sixth form and some of the rest of the school know about Sandra’s encounter with Miss Hawkins. What are you going to do, Sandra?”

“That’s what we were discussing, Alison,” Sandra replied. “I just asked Katie what she would do.”

“Really? What choice do you actually have, Sandra?” Alison retorted. “If you don’t agree to Miss Hawkins’ offer, then she’ll go to the headmistress and goodness knows what she’ll do. Most likely, she’ll bring the police in and then you’ll be expelled and find yourself in the magistrates’ court and all sorts.”

“You don’t know what she wants to do to me, though.”

“Don’t I?” The head girl’s eyes sparkled. “She does have a certain reputation, you know.”

“OMG! So, if I go through with it, the whole sixth form will know I’ve been spanked. Is that the case?”

“Pretty much. But at least it keeps it all within the school. Okay, so you’ll probably get teased by a few girls. Some will sympathise.”

“You mean you’ll be more sympathetic, Alison?”

“Me? Oh no, I’ll want to know all the lurid details and have a good laugh. But your friends, like Katie here, will support you.”

“Gee, thanks Alison.”

“The thing is, we all know she’ll enjoy it. What she intends to do to me, I mean. I just don’t know how I feel about that.”

“Does it really matter, Sandra? I mean you’re guilty as sin, so it’s not like she’s suggesting she whack you for nothing.”

“True,” Sandra replied pensively.

“Look, there’s really only one logical option open to you. When do you have to give Miss Hawkins an answer?”

Sandra looked at her mobile phone. “In just over ten minutes’ time.”

“So, brush yourself down, check your make-up, and go along and get your bottom smacked. Stop worrying about it. Just do it.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“I know. Then let’s us three go down to the café by the river for coffee and pastries and you can tell us all about it.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Alison?” Katie interrupted. “Seriously though, Sandra, I do think you have to go through with it. There’s really no better option.”

“Okay!” Sandra called, finding the discussion wasn’t helping her in any way. She checked her mobile phone again. “I need to get along to Miss Hawkins’ classroom.”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” Alison confirmed.

“And sympathising,” Katie added with a stern look at the head girl.

Sandra walked slowly and thoughtfully along the corridor, still not completely decided on what she would say to her Economics teacher. Each classroom she passed had a door with a window, and a separate window that enabled any passer-by to see inside. Most were empty, students and teachers having left school for the day, but one was not. Miss Hawkins sat at her desk staring into her computer screen and occasionally tapping at the keyboard. Sandra paused.

Miss Hawkins was a well-liked teacher in her late-twenties, slim, blond, her hair fastened back in a tight ponytail. She wore smart light-grey trousers and a maroon blouse, a brown leather shoulder bag hanging from the back of her chair. Sandra had been here before, although previous times were when she needed advice about her schoolwork. This was quite different. Sandra removed everything from her mind, tapped on the door and went in.

“Ah, Sandra,” Miss Hawkins greeted her with a smile. “Come in and sit down.” The teacher indicated a chair by the side of her desk.

“You told me to see you after school,” Sanda said rather unnecessarily as she sat down.

“I did, Sandra. So, what have you decided?”

“I’ve decided, um, I’ve decided I’d like you to deal with my little problem, Miss.”

“Have you? Yes, I think it would be for the best.”

Sandra searched Miss Hawkins’ face for clues to her thinking, noticed a faint smile of pleasure when Sandra told her she wanted the teacher to deal with her. Deal with her? Punish her, was more to the point. What exactly that entailed had been left undisclosed. Sandra had heard the rumours, but Miss Hawkins hadn’t given any hint so far as to exactly how she would ‘deal with’ Sandra. The conversation had for the moment paused, Miss Hawkins presumably calculating exactly what Sandra’s punishment would involve, and Sandra equally wondering what she would have to endure.

“So, what…?” Sandra began to ask.

“I think…” Miss Hawkins words came at the same time.

“Sorry,” Sandra hastily added.

“I was just going to say, Sandra, that this is a serious matter that can’t go unpunished.”

“I know, miss. I do realise that. I’ll accept any punishment you think appropriate.”

Miss Hawkins smiled as she contemplated the girl’s words.

“I think the minimum I could award would be twelve strokes of the slipper. It’s a lot, I know, but I think that has to be the measure of your punishment.”

Sandra nodded as she heard her sentence being announced. She hadn’t really any idea of what twelve strokes of the slipper would mean in terms of the pain she would experience. She’d never been slippered herself, although she’d seen other girls getting the slipper in class when younger, usually one or three whacks. Those girls had gone back to their seats rubbing their bottoms and looking quite sorry for themselves, even after a single whack. One or two were moist-eyed even. Sandra continued to nod thoughtfully.

“How does that sound?” Miss Dawkins asked.

“I’m totally at your mercy, Miss. Anything will be better than the alternative.”

Sandra watched the teacher’s reaction. She seemed pleased.

“So, we’re agreed on twelve with the slipper, are we?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“It will be quite a spanking, you know.”

“Yes, Miss.” Sandra wondered how she was meant to respond. Her teacher seemed keen to reinforce just how severe the punishment would be. For what motive? To scare the girl? If so, she was a fair way to succeeding. “Probably what I deserve, Miss,” Sandra added, thinking it was what Miss Dawkins would want to hear.

“Yes, I think so. Now, how are we going to do this? I see you’re wearing a pleated skirt, Sandra, so I think you could bend over and touch your toes. I could then raise your skirt so I can slipper you across the seat of your knickers. That’s just the way I usually slipper girls, Sandra. It makes each stroke sting that little bit more.”

Sandra wondered whether she was supposed to protest at that point, maybe beg to have her skirt remain in place. In reality, she wasn’t that bothered. Of more importance was just how much this was going to hurt. She intended to go for coffee with the other two girls. What if they chose to sit outside on those wooden benches? Would sitting on the wooden slats be too much for her?

“How do you feel about that, Sandra?” Miss Hawkins asked timidly, as though still expecting the girl to object.

The seventeen-year-old shrugged. “I don’t mind, if that’s how you usually do it, I mean.” As the words left her lips, Sandra wondered just how many girls this teacher had punished this way.

Miss Hawkins smiled, satisfied things were going her way exceptionally well. “So, a good dose of the slipper across the seat of your pants, eh?”

Sandra smiled back, sensing the teacher was enjoying her sense of power. Somehow, too, it felt strangely comfortable knowing her fate was in someone else’s hands and all she could do was submit.

“Good!” The teacher sat back, thought for several moments and then reached down to pull open the bottom drawer of her desk. She rummaged inside and brought out a size nine plimsoll, dirty white in colour, and placed it on her desk. “That’s what we’ll use, Sandra.”

Sandra looked idly at the plimsoll. It was unremarkable. She’d seen many like it, even when they served to administer swift justice to the bottoms of misbehaving girls. Miss Hawkins noticed Sandra’s lack of reaction.

“It will really smart, I’m afraid Sandra.”

Sandra nodded vigorously. She realised the teacher was dragging this out, presumably increasing her pleasure in having Sandra in this position. The seventeen-year-old was also beginning to enjoy their little game.

“I’m sure I deserve it,” Sandra finally spoke.

Miss Hawkins smiled.

“I’m ready when you are,” Sandra added, giving the teacher a smile.

“Yes, we need to get it done, don’t we?” the teacher replied solemnly.

“Where do you want me?”

“Over here,” Miss Hawkins indicated the uncluttered floor between her desk and the door to the classroom. “Bend over and grab your shins.”

Sandra looked round to see where she was meant to position herself, stood up and went to the spot. She faced the wall and bent over, easily managing to clasp her hands around her shins low down near to her ankles.

“Is this okay?” Sandra turned her head sideways to see her teacher, who was getting up from her desk with the plimsoll in her left hand.

“That will be fine, Sandra.”

Miss Hawkins took the few paces needed to join Sandra and looked down at the bending girl’s bottom encased in her pleated skirt.

“Keep still while I fold your skirt up, Sandra.”

The teacher worked so delicately that Sandra struggled to comprehend just what was happening until a hand pressed her skirt onto her back, and the cool air of the classroom chilled her upper thighs. She flinched when that hand then made several adjustments to her brief white panties that left both the tops and lower edges of her bottom uncovered.

“I’m just trying to cover as much of your bottom as I can with these small knickers of yours, Sandra,” the teacher explained.

“That’s kind. Thank you,” Sandra answered, although she wasn’t at all certain whether her bottom was more or less covered after the teacher’s efforts. The very gentle fiddling with her panties tickled, and wasn’t at all unpleasant. She decided to press her luck. “Do you have to do this for many girls, Miss?”

“Do what?”

“Slipper them, I mean. I suppose the current fashion for skimpy underwear means it’s hard to cover all their bottoms.”

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s inevitable some get a whacking that’s almost entirely on their bare bottoms. You’re okay though. I should be able to smack you mainly over your knickers.”

“Do you ever take their knickers down, Miss?”

“Oh no! That would be most improper.”

“Of course. Sorry, I was just curious.”

“That’s okay. Is this a new experience for you?”

“Getting my bottom smacked? Yes.”

“I see,” the teacher replied pensively.

“Um, should we start?” Sandra asked, feeling she’d been bending with her skirt raised long enough and beginning to worry someone, like the cleaners, might come along and find her like this.

“Of course. Hold still.”

“Okay.”

Sandra braced herself, her desire for the spanking to proceed matched only by her concern for the pain she might soon feel. Still looking over her shoulder at the teacher, she saw the plimsoll being drawn back before it swung down with increasing speed until it slammed against her bottom. It hurt, but not as much as she was expecting, and her brief shrill cry was merely an instinctive reaction.

“Did that hurt, Sandra?”

“Smarted a bit.”

“Okay.”

Looking ahead now, Sandra sensed the second whack coming. When it hit her bottom she jerked and grunted. Miss Hawkins didn’t comment, just continued applying whacks of the slipper at ten second intervals. When Sandra had received six strokes, she paused.

“Halfway, Sandra. Okay?”

“Um, fine, Miss,” the seventeen-year-old answered, not sure exactly what she was supposed to say. The whacks of the slipper were beginning to smart uncomfortably, and her bottom was feeling increasingly sore, but she was being punished and so that was presumably just how it should be.

“Let’s continue,” Miss Hawkins said briefly.

Almost immediately, another whack of the slipper hit Sandra’s bottom. She gave a short, shrill cry, more from surprise than pain. The teacher continued applying the strokes, still at roughly ten second intervals. In not much more than a minute, eleven strokes had been administered.

“Last one, Sandra. Let’s make this one really count.”

By this point, Sandra’s bottom was feeling really quite sore and she was keen to finish her punishment, stand up and cover her knickers with her skirt. She also felt she’d done her bit in allowing the teacher to have her fun at Sandra’s expense.

“Okay.”

Sandra waited, and waited, and she had begun to look round over her shoulder when the plimsoll crashed really hard across her bottom. It stung and smarted, made her jump up with the shock and cry out. She looked round angrily at the teacher.

“It-it’s traditional,” Miss Hawkins stammered.

“That really hurt!” Sandra declared as she rubbed her bottom over her knickers.

“Sorry. I mean, I usually make the last one a real stinger, to sort of complete the punishment. You know? Let me get you some tissues to wipe your face.”

While the teacher sought a box of tissues in the top drawer of her desk, Sandra wiped some tears away with the back of her hand. When a clutch of tissues were offered to her, she took them and took her time drying her face. The tears stopped and Sandra reverted to rubbing her bottom, over her pleated skirt that had now fallen back into place.

“Sorry, Miss. It was just that last whack that really smarted. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“I’m sorry too, Sandra. But it was a punishment and we couldn’t have you walking out without clutching your sore bottom, could we?” The teacher grinned.

Sandra, too, also smiled. “Can I have a hug?”

“Of course.”

Miss Hawkins put her arms around the seventeen-year-old and they embraced each other closely.

“Thank you for getting me out of the mess I’d got myself into. Goodness knows what trouble I’d have been in if you’d reported me to the headmistress.”

“Not a problem, Sandra. My methods might be a little out of the ordinary, but they’ve got a good few girls out of some nasty problems. You do see that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Miss. I’ll be forever grateful to you.”

“Thank you. Hey, the time is getting on. We should both be getting out of here.”

They drew apart, and they looked sheepishly at each other.

“Yes, I’ve arranged to meet some friends,” Sandra said. She checked her skirt was fully back in place and prepared to leave. “Thanks again for, you know.”

“My pleasure, Sandra.”

Sandra walked back down the corridor to the main entrance. Before she’d got very far, she met Katie and Alison who had been waiting in an empty classroom.

“You got your spanking then?” Alison asked. “We, er, couldn’t help hearing the whacks. Twelve, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, with a plimsoll.”

“Does it hurt badly?” Katie enquired, looking worried.

“The first eleven weren’t too bad. They just made me sore. But the twelfth was a real humdinger! That really hurt!”

“Do you really think Miss Hawkins enjoyed doing it?” Katie continued as they headed for the exit door.

“Of course she did,” Alison answered. “Didn’t she?”

“For sure,” Sandra confirmed. “At one point, I was sort of teasing her. She’s really quite nice, you know.”

Just before they left the school building, Alison looked at the back of Sandra’s skirt. “It’s okay. She must have a clean plimsoll. There’s no marks on the seat of your skirt.”

“Ah. Well, there wouldn’t be.”

“Why?” Katie asked naively.

Alison grinned. “Because she got spanked across the seat of her knickers, didn’t you Sandra?”

“Just between the three of us, yes,” Sandra grinned.

“What? And you let her?” Katie exclaimed.

“She told me she was going to do it,” Sandra nodded. “So, she had me bend over and grab my shins, then I felt my skirt being folded up my back. Would you believe, she then spent a long time adjusting my knickers to, in her words, cover as much of my bottom as possible.”

“Covering up your bum? Or exposing more of it?” Alison asked.

Sandra chuckled. “I’m not really sure. It tickled when she was doing it. Rather pleasant, actually.”

“You didn’t enjoy getting whacked, did you?” Katie enquired suspiciously.

“Well, it was certainly better than appearing before the headmistress, getting expelled and goodness knows what else. And Miss Hawkins is really very nice.”

“Sandra!” Katie delivered a hefty whack to the seat of Sandra’s skirt.

The End

© Kenny Walters 2024