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1965 – part 4
After that eventful morning class it was lunch at the cafeteria shared with the boys from the neighboring college. What luck it was to have a co-ed cafeteria. Eddy waved for me to join him at a table for two. He stood, gave me a chaste peck on each cheek, and pulled my chair as a perfect gentleman. I beamed.
We had very British mash and bangers, it was simple but good. He asked how was my first morning in school en Grande Bretagne. He had said that in French and his accent was funny. He tried more French lines, “Vous êtes trés jolie mademoiselle !” He was fun. I told him about the spanking in front of the class of Bella and Daniella. He said that he would have loved to be a fly on the wall. He laughed as I said, “You’re a naughty boy!” We had finished our lunch. He took my tray and came back with cups of tea. We sat on a bench in the sun and his hand gently landed on my left knee. I didn’t jump out of my knickers.
./…
A few weeks later Maggie got a C minus, it wasn’t a spanking offence in Uncle Ed’s book, but Sister Hildegard wrote “Poorly prepared lesson!” in her diary. On our ride back home she said, “Pop is going to toast my buns!”
I asked, “The cane?”
“Nah, it will be the belt or the tawse…”
“What’s a tawse?”
“It’s a Scottish thingy, a twin tail strap. It has a nasty bite, but it isn’t as bad as the cane.”
“Ah…”
After our usual glass of milk and a few cookies, Aunt Dorothy ritually asked our diaries. We stood at attention in front of her and nervously tugged down our kilts which felt surprisingly shorter. “Béa, C minus in math, careful, a D means the belt.”
“Yes, Aunt Dotty, I will do better!”
“Maggie what is this about a ‘poorly prepared lesson?”
“It was accident Mum, I am sorry, I will do better!”
“Your father will make sure of that when back home.”
She was told to leave her diary on the coffee table in the lounge, “You too Béa, leave your diary with Maggie’s one. Edward needs to know of that C minus.”
We disappeared upstairs to do our homework. On the way I anxiously asked, “What will Uncle Ed do about my C minus ?”
“Probably only a warning…”
I wasn’t as confident as Maggie. I tried to concentrate on my homework.
Two hours later we heard, “Honey I am home !” It was soon followed with, “What have our angels done? I see their diaries on the coffee table.” A few seconds later it was, “Maggie and Béa join me in the lounge !”
As we stood in front of Uncle Ed I had this silly thought about the pluck a girl needs to have to be wearing a miniskirt in front of an upset father.
He started with me. “Béa, C minus in math, you best pull up your socks or I will pull down your knickers for the cane! Remember my promise for your father, you will have your A-Levels with honors!”
I again almost peed my knickers, and barely managed to say.”Yes, Sir, I will do better!” I wasn’t dismissed and didn’t dare move from my spot on the lounge’s rug.
“Maggie take you knickers down to your knees, bend forward with your hands on the sofa.”
As she obeyed I saw her mini kilt rise till exposing her furry bonbon. I also didn’t miss her father unbuckling his crocodile leather belt. He doubled it, raised her skirt and vigorously whacked her bum.
SMACK!
“Humph!”
SMACK!
“Oh! Ah!”
“Remember that Béa, bring back poor comments from your teachers and its my belt across your bare bottom or cul nu in French.”
With this warning I shamefully wet my knickers.
SMACK!
“Ouch!”
I could see the crimson marks left by the paternal belt adding up on my English sister’s bum.
SMACK!
“OUCH!”
Her knickers had dropped to her ankles, and her dancing from one foot to the other stretched them left and right.
SMACK!
“ARGH!”
He add worked down her butt and had now reached the top of her thighs.
SMACK!
“OH! AH! OUCH!”
She fully opened her legs with that one. I blushed for her as she exposed her secrets. I guessed that it must have been a reflex.
SMACK! SMACK!
He whacked the back of each thighs one after the other.
“ARGH! OUiiiiiCH!”
“ARGH! OUiiiiiiiiiCH!
She pedaled her legs and her knickers flew.
“Béa pick up her knicker, and both of you run along.”
I followed her upstairs and could see her muff and the last two belt marks decorating the top of her thighs. I offered to rub her throbbing derriere with a wet flannel before applying some cold cream. She had blurry eyes, but she wasn’t actually crying. I was surprised and impressed. She thanked me for the after spanking treatment, and slowly pulled up her knickers.
Suddenly she laughed. “You have peed your knickers!”
I blushed crimson and stammered, “Huh… Huh…”
“Let me guess. It was when he warned you about belting on your bare butt?”
I was red face as I nodded.
That evening for dinner we weren’t too chatty, but we didn’t miss the Beverly Hillbillies and I daydreamed when I saw Bev being kissed by Bill.
Miss Kenworthy shouted “Come in!” to the knock on the door and looked at Charlotte’s shocked face nonchalantly, then back to the door.
The Head Girl walked in.
“Get back in to position Charlotte and face the wall I know you are embarrassed about being almost naked with a bright red bottom, but that is what naughty girls get for disgracing our school uniform. If you turn again I will put you over my knee before our Head Girl and spank you again!”
The Head Girl giggled.
“Can I help you dear? What a delight to have the best behaved school girl we have in my Study after having just dealt with one of the naughtiest.” Said Miss Kenworthy.
The Head Girl beamed with pride, especially when she heard sniffs and sobs of shame come from the wall.
“I have my report of the weekly spankings given out by my Prefects Miss.”
“Ooooh listen to me with My Prefects!” thought Charlotte.
She walked to her Headmistress, trying not to stare at the bright red throbbing bottom of naughty Charlotte.
“Oh feel free to look at her glowing bottom my dear. It is the plight of a very naughty girl to show it off. Wiggle your red bottom for your superior to view Charlotte.”
“Awwwww …sniff sniff….no Miss, please Miss!” Ried Charlotte.
“Wiggle it there or over my knee before the Head Girl, I will not tell you again! Face the wall and wiggle it girl! And make it a good wiggle!”
She began to wiggle her bottom, and the Head Girl laughed.
Miss Kenworthy dealt with the Head Girl’s business and told her to feel free to laugh, because it serves her right, and might teach her a lesson in humility. She addressed Charlotte then. “Keep wiggling, and do it every time someone comes in!”
“What a silly little naughty girl she is Miss.”
Charlotte hated her from that moment on, and decided that one day, somehow, she will see the tables turn.
“Yes she is, not like you my well behaved little sweetheart!”
“Well behaved sweetheart my red arse!” Thought Charlotte as she heard her giggling behind her, and wiggled her bottom sexily from side to side.
“If I tell my friends what I have seen, will I be doing something wrong Miss.”
“Nooo dear, not at all, I encourage it. Embarrassing as it is for a naughty girl, it might do good. She might as well blush on all four cheeks!”
“Oh Miss Kenworthy, you are so funny!” Giggled the Head Girl.
“I doubt that Charlotte and her red bottom think so!” Laughed Miss Kenworthy.
The Head Girl left chuckling, and staring at the red bottom swaying to and fro.
“Bye Miss.”
“Bye bye.”
…she left. Excited about spreading the news that would be as hot as Charlotte’s bottom.
You can find more of Robbie’s work by clicking on ‘Links and Contributors’ in the menu above, then on ‘Contributors’. Once there, scroll down.
A Game of Bowls
My friend Anna, whom I have known since we were classmates, came to stay with me recently. We went out and about a lot but the thing we most enjoyed was chatting. We had both had strict upbringings and liked to compare notes. She told me a story from the past that simply astonished me.
Of course, you never know with Anna whether her stories are real or invented. But anyway, here it is and I leave readers to decide for themselves whether to believe it or not, whether some of it true, or none of it, or all of it. This is what Anna told me. In places where I have been unable to restrain myself I have put in my own comments in square brackets like these [ ].
Anna’s account
I had been instructed to report to Miss Kenworthy at 6 pm one evening, on the dot without fail. She would be expecting me. [Miss Kenworthy was the headmistress, young and beautiful but extremely strict.] They had told me that if I was going to Miss Kenworthy I would be receiving corporal punishment for sure. Ten minutes in her presence would leave me in tears with a sore bottom that I would not be allowed to rub. As I walked slowly up the stairs to her office I reflected on the events that had led me there, my repeated bad behaviour, my failure to attend detentions, my poor performance in tests (especially spelling tests), and then finally a letter to my guardian that elicited an instant reply permitting the school to administer whatever punishment it thought I deserved, including corporal punishment.
I stood outside Miss Kenworthy’s door; I knocked and waited. There was no answer. I knocked again without response. As I wondered what to do I heard the percussive sound of hard footsteps coming down the passage, and saw the headmistress approaching me. I wasn’t fooled by her smile as she looked at me.
“Are you waiting for me?”
“Yes Miss Kenworthy, I am Anna. I have been sent to you.”
“Ah yes, Anna, I have received a report about you from your tutor. Wait here and I will call you in. I need to check a few details.”
I waited, my heart thumping uncontrollably. I thought I might even be sick – much good that would do me.
Then I heard a peremptory “come in Anna”. I opened the door and slowly entered the room. Miss Kenworthy was not – as I had expected – sitting at her desk looking sternly out at me. She was standing by the window, looking out at the pretty garden below. Her head turned to me…
“Come here Anna,” she said, turning towards me. As I approached, she pointed down into the garden. “Isn’t it beautiful, Anna? Would you like to go down and sit in it for a while?”
This was not at all the question I was expecting her to ask me, and I replied somewhat hesitantly.
“Yes, I think it would be nice, Miss Kenworthy, but it’s not really what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting, Anna?”
She went over to the desk and picked up what looked like a hand-written note. “What do you think your tutor thinks you deserve?”
“A punishment.”
“I think he does, Anna, because you have not been behaving well, have you?”
“No Miss Kenworthy.”
“We will talk about your behaviour. And we must think of ways of making you improve. But I will have to punish you as well, and I am sure you know how we punish here.”
“Will you cane me Miss Kenworthy?”
“That is one possibility, Have you been caned before?”
“No Miss.”
“Or received any corporal punishment? A spanking for example?”
“No Miss, never.”
[I am reasonably sure that Anna is lying here, but she insisted it was true. She might have been hoping it would secure a milder punishment from Miss Kenworthy, but events were to prove otherwise.]
Miss Kenworthy’s smile returned.
“Well, in that case it will be a new experience for you. As it is your very first time, we are going to play a game. I call it bowls, but it’s not the usual game of that name. She pulled back a screen and on the chest behind it were three large glass bowls – goldfish bowls perhaps but there were no fish in them. Instead there were heaps of little paper pieces folded into small squares.
She pointed to one of them “In this bowl, Anna, the slips all have names of the implements that I use for punishments – slipper, brush, strap, … switch, cane, and so on.”
“And so on” left an uneasy feeling in my stomach.
Then she pointed to the second bowl. “In this one all the slips of paper have numbers on them. Not all the numbers, just the numbers from 6 to 36 that are multiples of three. We – that is, you, pick one slip from each bowl. Together they tell us your punishment.” She picked a slip from the first bowl, looked up at me and asked me to tell her the number. It was a 9, so I said “nine, Miss.”
“And this one?” She handed me a slip from the second bowl.
“Hairbrush, Miss Kenworthy.”
“So, your punishment would be nine cracks with the hairbrush. I call them cracks, Anna, not smacks. They are much harder then smacks and they make a sound on your bottom like the crack of a rifle. You understand?”
“I think so, Miss.”
“You will understand soon, Anna. But now, I expect you are wondering about the third bowl, aren’t you? What do you think that is for?”
I really could not imagine; I looked down at my feet.
“They tell us something very important about your punishment, Anna. Pick a slip from the third bowl. Tell me what it says.”
I took a slip and unfolded and read it.
“It says ‘over panties’ Miss Kenworthy.”
“Then you would be fairly lucky, Anna. You would get your nine cracks of the hairbrush with your skirt removed, over your panties. The others say things like ‘over skirt’, ‘on hands’. The one to avoid at all costs is BB. I’m sure you can work out what that means, Anna.”
I knew, and blushed deeply. I had heard of bare bottom spankings and narrowly escaped one myself.
“I have a question, Miss Kenworthy.”
“Go ahead, Anna.”
“Suppose I pick a 36, and a cane, and a BB. Would that not be too extreme?”
Miss Kenworthy had this strange capacity to frown and smile at the same time. It was a signal to beware of.
“It may seem that way Anna, but rules are rules and there can be no exceptions. If that happened you would receive 36 strokes of the cane on your bare bottom, just the same. It would be a severe punishment but it would be a necessary lesson for you. You would deserve it and you would soon be crying, and your bottom would be very sore for several days.”
Miss Kenworthy look fixedly at me for several minutes, wondering – I suspect – whether I would burst into tears or run from the room. But I held my ground, and so did she.
“Now Anna, we will play our game in the garden and pick the slips of paper for real. There is a shed in the corner with everything we need in it. And a bench for you to go over, and a table to put any clothes you have to take off. I will take two of the bowls and you can take the third one. Do not drop it!”
Her look grew quite menacing. I was sure that if I broke the bowl I would not be sitting down for days.
In the garden I picked the first two slips:
‘36’
‘Switch’
My hand trembled as I reached into the third bowl and slowly extracted the fateful last slip.
“Go on Anna. The third slip. I am waiting.” Miss Kenworthy’s impatience was withering.
I read out the dire and inevitable instruction; the two letters were printed in bright capitals followed by a huge exclamation mark.
Miss Kenworthy’s face lit up.
“Ah, Anna, exactly what you deserve; how wise to let chance decide. And how opportune. You have picked a switch from the bowl and now you can pick one for real in the garden. Look over here.”
She led me to a little group of willow trees and took hold of a branch.
“How about this one? Fetch the secateurs for me.” There was a pair of secateurs among a collection of cutters on the workbench. I took it over to where Miss Kenworthy was smiling expectantly.
“You cut it, Anna. Carefully now.”
“I will give you 12 on your legs then 24 on your bottom. Bare of course – from the waist down, where it matters.”
[At this point Anna became upset and she has asked me to continue her story as I remember it.]
Narrator
Miss Kenworthy had a reputation for baring girls’ bottoms that could only be described as sensuous, the nakedness revealed so slowly and tenderly that it was difficult to comprehend that discipline was to follow. The feeling of vulnerability produced in the miscreant was so physically intense that many girls were on the brink of tears before a single smack had been delivered. The smacking could often be more pleasurable than disciplinary, and there is little doubt that Miss Kenworthy was aware of this. With boys, whom she disciplined sometimes, it is said that the first smack – when it finally came – could result in an orgasm.
Anna’s complexion reddened and a frown formed as she told me this part of the story and went on to describe the punishment. It was administered with such finesse, first on the backs of her legs and then – just marginally harder – on her bared bottom, that the stinging sensation seemed to emerge and intensify naturally. Miss Kenworthy’s sensuous administering of strict corporal punishment was so effective that it completely justified its use long after other institutions gave it up, and it belied all the indications Miss Kenworthy gave of strictness tempered with clemency. For some it might be enjoyable, but it was always painful and shaming, as Anna realised when she stood in the corner.
Anna could barely keep back the tears when the strokes moved up from her legs to her bottom, and Miss Kenworthy intensified the feeling of suspense by placing the switch against the crown of the poor girl’s bottom and gently sliding it across and tapping with it, then withdrawing it for an agonisingly long time before bringing it down again with a sharp flick and a crack that was guaranteed to produce a gasp. With three or four still to be given the floodgates opened and poor Anna was sobbing.
Finally Anna was sent into a corner of the shed that had been prepared as the naughty corner, with mirrors placed strategically to show up the miscreant’s tell-tale features: a red tearful face, trembling hands, and a bottom that could light up a bedroom.
Listening to this part of the story, I had become deeply suspicious of Miss Kenworthy’s behaviour towards Anna, and felt sure that the lottery had been fixed to ensure a severe punishment: I would bet all my money that all the numbers were the highest and the implements the most severe and painful.
I asked Anna whether she had thought to confront Miss Kenworthy with this suspicion – and if possible to sneak into her room and re-examine the evidence.
“ I did indeed,” Anna told me, “but it did not work out well. I chose a time when I knew Miss Kenworthy would be absent (I had seen her leaving in her smart little car). But I was discovered by her secretary. I was given two options: she would either inform Miss Kenworthy of my trespassing, or I would do so myself. She handed me a fourth bowl. It had a solitary slip lying at the bottom. I took it and opened it.
It contained the single word ‘birch’.
“You can hand that to Miss Kenworthy when she comes back.”
I asked Anna what followed.
“I never gave Miss Kenworthy the paper,” she said with a laugh. “I kept it. I still have it.” With that, she put a hand in her pocket and took out a little piece of paper, and handed it to me. “I got away with it.”
I looked hard at Anna. “You cannot leave it like this. It’s not too late.”
Anna looked at me knowingly. “No, it isn’t.”
*****
Some time later I saw Anna again and asked her about the outcome.
“The willow was in season, so ….. “
There was a brief pause. Then: “Miss Kenworthy was asking after you,” she told me. She would so like to see you.”
“For a game of bowls Anna?”
Anna’s nod said it all. So I made an appointment to visit Miss Kenworthy when the willow was in season again. I will tell you my own story another time.
ASA’S NOTE
A very well written engaging story, full of well described feelings. The idea of the bowls is brilliant. More please!
My time is more limited these days, a while ago I would have put photos to it even had a shoot and invited him down.
…. But, alas I am just too busy.
If you fancy sending a story, please do, but be prepared to be patient. It could lead to a regular page like ‘B’
The cane Suzette had seen in Charlotte’s hand was soon to be by her side and swinging towards her bare bottom. But first Charlotte inspected the work of Kate.
“That’s a great job Kate, just the colour that this naughty maid’s bottom needs to be! Let me add some stripes.”
Kate stepped aside and Charlotte moved in.
Samantha supervised as Charlotte caned the red, naughty, wriggling bottom before her.
…
…
…
…
How the girls enjoyed themselves. Chuckling and making comments to Suzette as whacks landed repeatedly.
The school was a buzz with some very exciting news for the girls this week. Miss Merryglow was found to have helped two of her favourite pupils cheat in a Latin Exam. The Headmaster dealt with her…
“If a girl is caught cheating she is caned…”
“….so I am doing the same with you, at the front of the window facing the lawns, 24 strokes!”
It was quite a thrashing and nearly half of all girls saw it take place as they stood on the lawns watching. Rumours are rife, if it happens again it will be on the bare!
Talking of cheating, a girl cheated on a cross country run, leaving the race, cutting through a wood and rejoining it half way back. She was spotted and soundly spanked on the track side,and made to run the course three times, with a bag full of text books and a jolly good spanking after each circuit. To make matters worse, she was not wearing regulation school knickers, so they were the only thing she was allowed to wear! She was walking the popular walking paths tiredly and sore for ages on the last lap.
We chat at length aout spanking the girls at our respective schools, and we discussed facial expressions. The exit from the study at Cumley has a CCTV camera focussed on it and we watched some footage.
For security reasons and to prove we deal with naughty girls correctly, we both have cameras recording punishments. It has been known for a girl to try and make a false claim. It is rare… bit be sure, the threat of a naked caning before the whole school keeps that at arms length,!!!
Here are a couple of view from inside the Study…
…
…
As I have just mentioned naked caning, here is a story for you. One of the girls has been regularly showing her naked body to masturbating boys in the lane that runs by the school. She was caught and spanked before it every night for a week. By the time Friday Night came there was upwards of 100 local boys cheering every whack!
And to finish, three girls sang at a choir event and came last, not for bad singing, but for being caught smoking on the back row of the auditorium. The alarm went off and the sprinklers came on. All points were deducted and they were sent back to Cumley in disgrace.
I am watching his live feed now, they will be reaching some high notes very soon, I think!
Mistress looked at the outer garments of her new submissive pet, Suzette, and pondered. She could hear her breathing, and the ticking of the clock. Everything felt right.
She had many years of modelling experience, and although Suzette had a graceful air about her, she needed a little work on presentation.
She breathed in, and spoke ..
“Suzette, I know you are older than me, but understand me, and trust me when I say this. It does not matter, you are lovely, graceful and serene. You dress and carry yourself well. But your presentation needs work. We will start with the arms and hands, put them up like this, it extends your body and lifts the breasts.”
Suzette copied her…
“The crossed wrists signifies submission, imagine rope is around them.”
“You learn quickly, perfect. Now the fingers, you must play life like a piano, fingers are very important. I want you to remove your bra, pass it to me, delicately, between finger and thumb.”
…
The bra took on great importance, like a religious rite, as if it carried incense. It paused, and hung in the air, a symbol of submission.
…
“Now your panties need to come off. And put your hands back in position.”
Charlotte gently pushed her nail into the soft flesh, deep and slow, a reminder of what was to come.
Suzette loved the touch of ownership. Then Charlotte lowered Suzette’s knickers.
