A girl owns up to her teacher who is also her auntie

By Jill Waterhouse

My name is Lucy Gray. For our upper sixth year in 1979, we had a different teacher for biology, the head of sixth form, Mrs Toni Jackson. She was a slim, very attractive and well-dressed lady who insisted everyone did their best and got the very best grades possible. Mrs Jackson also happened to be my aunty, mum’s older sister by 6 years. Mum has always looked up to her and admired the way she can control so many teenagers at once when my mum sometimes struggles with just me! Mrs Jackson obviously knew us all well, having taught us in the lower school for biology, but also with her pastoral role as head of sixth form. This also, of course, meant some of the group had been acquainted both with her thighs and her hard hand as she was also mainly responsible for any spankings that were needed amongst the sixth form as well. Niece or not, I was under no illusion that if need be I would not be immune.

Chloe had been messing about all day. She certainly seemed to have that Friday feeling and whilst we waited for Mrs Jackson (well, I can’t call her aunty or aunty Toni in a classroom setting, can I?) she was egging me on to draw a picture of a man’s willy on the board and see how long it would take to be noticed by the teacher. The whole group (there were just 7 of us) were at it and eventually, just to shut them up, I drew quite a good representation if I do say so myself. It was the last lesson of the day and, when we heard Mrs Jackson approaching, we all looked down at our books as she entered.

“Alright girls, I do not find that amusing. We are doing photosynthesis today, not the birds and the bees. Own up, who is responsible?” she demanded sternly.


“Either own up or someone tell me who did this, or I will hold you all responsible for not telling me,” she continued, as did the awkward silence.

In truth we were all sort of responsible. I drew it, Chloe egged the class on, and the class egged me on. Silence.

“Alright, you have until the end of this double period, and then we will sort this out.”

There was throat clearing and exchanges of glances, but the thought of detention wasn’t worth dropping anyone in it, or myself. The lesson started, we drew pictures of leaves, chloroplasts, stomata, and we all wrote down the long reaction chains that make the whole photosynthesis process work.

Then, out of nowhere, “Now, is anyone owning up, or do I carry on?” asked Mrs Jackson, pointing to the drawing which was still centre stage in the middle of one of the black boards.

Still silence.

“Very well, now the next reaction is very important,” and the lesson continued with a slight sense of foreboding starting to emerge amongst the group.

Was I being optimistic at the thought of detention, maybe? As the final bell approached, we started to look at each other uneasily, and Mrs Jackson wound up the day’s lesson and set homework which was due on Monday afternoon, next week.

“Now girls, are you going to tell me who did this, or am I to hold you all guilty for not answering my question?” she asked, sounding slightly exasperated. She glanced at her watch. Maybe she was in a hurry and needed to get off? Problem solved. But no, she gave us exactly 30 seconds and then pronounced, “Very well, girls, as is abundantly clear, you all know who is responsible and will not either own up or tell me, you will all receive the same punishment. You will remain in your seats and one by one I will call you out to the front of the class. There, you will bend over my knee and you will all receive a spanked bottom. Trish, as you are the closest you can go first. Up you come.”

With that, Mrs Jackson moved a chair to the front of the class under the blackboard with the offending drawing upon it and turned it to face the class. Slowly sitting down, she pulled her red pleated skirt straight and waited for Trish to come over.

“Come on, girl, I have 6 more backsides to warm after you. Get a move on!” she barked sternly.

Trish did get a move on and nearly fell over her own school bag in the process. Trish was one of the school’s golden girls and excelled  in the classroom and on the sports field. She was captain of the hockey and netball teams and had never been in trouble. She glared at Chloe and then at me before dragging herself to the side of Mrs Jackson.

Trish knew what to do; she had seen it a number of times as she had come through the school. She bent forward and placed her hands on the floor, feet a few inches apart and laid across the teacher’s legs. She then felt the unusual sensation of her short school skirt being raised above her waist and being held firmly in place by Mrs Jackson’s left hand whilst her right hand lay gently upon her white panty covered bottom. I had to admit she had a very attractive bum, must be all the sports she played. Mrs Jackson didn’t hang about to admire the view, though. No sooner had Trish settled, the first smack landed hard and firm on the left buttock which shocked Trish who cried out loudly as the second blow then landed with equal force on the opposite side.

10 more spanks landed on alternate sides, and Trish was in floods of tears.

“Alright Trish, that is you done. Stand up, straighten yourself out and sit back down at your desk.”

This was a little unusual as girls were usually spanked solo at the end of a lesson and dismissed without the added humiliation of having to sit red-bottomed on a hard wooden seat.

“Chloe, up you come.”

Chloe stood and walked the walk of shame towards her spanking. Looking straight at me, she said, “Mrs Jackson, I would like to take responsibility for this. Whilst I did not actually draw the picture, it is totally my fault it is there. I will take the consequences, and I hope you will spare everyone else from this ordeal, Miss.”

“Well, that is brave of you, but as I said, you are all guilty for not owning up or telling me who was responsible.” She looked at each of the group in turn for effect. “Each of you will still be receiving the spanking for this. Chloe, you will also be punished again at the end for your admitted part in the affair. As and when I find the artist, they too will receive a further spanking. Am I clear?”

“Yes Miss,” we replied in chorus.

Chloe draped herself and prepared for the spanking to come as her skirt, too, was pulled up and her panties exposed for the whacking which was to follow. Chloe had been spanked before so the pain was not an issue, but being spanked with an audience was a new one to her. She also received 12 hard smacks and was told to sit down before I was called up.

It was bad enough having the audience, but they also knew that Mrs Jackson is my aunty. She had spanked me as a child when she had been looking after me, so that wasn’t the issue, but your aunty spanking you in front of your friends was especially embarrassing.

As with the two previous girls, I bent over the familiar lap and got comfortable, only to feel the cool air on my bottom followed seconds later by the first of her trademark hard hand spanks. How this did not hurt her hand I do not know; she must just be used to it. I don’t know which was redder; my face or my bum, but in the burning and stinging stakes, the bum won by a country mile. I counted the smacks in case I was getting special treatment, but no; 12, no more, no less.

“Up you get, Lucy. Get straightened out and sit down. Charlie, you are next,” she said, very matter of factly. No family favours there.

I sat back down cautiously. The first contact with the chair stung, but then the cool relief of the cold wood was quite soothing after a few seconds.

Charlie, then Janet, then Patricia, all went through the same process of 12 spanks on their panty-clad backsides. Last but not least was Sally. Sally was a small shy girl and she was taking this badly. She cried all the way to her spanking, and all the way back again. During her spanking she screamed in pain throughout, but I swear Mrs Jackson was much gentler with her. Sitting back at her desk, Sally squirmed and wriggled in a bid to get comfortable, which clearly was not going to happen.

“Alright, that is round one out of the way. You six girls may now go. Chloe, please remain seated while the others leave,” said Mrs Jackson firmly.

We all left in silence, but having left the building the finger-pointing started. I protested that if they hadn’t egged me on I wouldn’t have drawn the picture and we wouldn’t have just had our bottoms spanked in front of each other. Grumpily, we made our way home.

Meanwhile, Chloe was about to get her second smacking of the afternoon.

“Right Chloe, what is a fair punishment for your further part in this affair, eh? What do you think?” asked Mrs Jackson crossly.

“I don’t know, Miss. I have already been spanked once, so maybe detention?” she said, more in hope than expectation.

Letting out a slight laugh, Mrs Jackson remarked, ” Well, as this offence is more serious than that for which you have already been punished, I think we need something a little stronger, don’t you, Chloe?”

“But Miss.”

“Stop whining, girl. If you don’t want to take the punishment, don’t misbehave. Get yourself up here again,” she barked and Chloe, fearing what was to come, dutifully obeyed.

Mrs Jackson opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out what was once a large white mens plimsoll and smacked it hard onto her left palm, which made a loud booming noise which echoed harshly from the plaster walls of the room.

“This was my son’s when he was at school, and I used it effectively both on his and his sister’s bottoms on many occasions. Now it is your turn. But first, are you going to tell me who did this. You will still get a slippering, but a reduced one.”

“No Miss,” she replied.

“Very well, Chloe, back over my lap,” said Mrs Jackson in a resigned way as she once again straightened her skirt in preparation for receiving Chloe’s tummy across it.

Once in position, she again wasted no time in pulling up Chloe’s skirt to reveal a very red glow emanating from the edge of her white regulation school panties. Although she didn’t use the slipper often, Mrs Jackson enjoyed using it. Firstly, it meant her hand didn’t sting, though she was very used to that, but the look of fear in a girl’s eyes as they offered their bottoms up for it. And finally, the terrific ‘whop’ sound it made on contact, especially in this room with so many bare walls.

“If it were up to me, I would happily do this to your bare bottom, but I am not allowed to do so, more’s the pity.”

With that, she administered 12 spanks with the slipper all over Chloe’s small and slightly wobbly bottom and to good effect. Chloe’s upper thigh, buttocks and sit area were a bright red by the time numbers 10, 11 and 12 stuck home. The normally strong girl was in floods of tears and when allowed to stand just stood there holding her bottom, not even rubbing it as she felt it was too sore even for that.

“Now dry your eyes, get yourself sorted and get off home. You’ll have forgotten all about this by Monday,” said Mrs Jackson flatly.

Chloe sobbed all the way to the school gates where at least a cool breeze helped soothe her burning behind at least a little.

Once I got home, mum asked what was the matter. There was no point denying it.

“I, and our whole biology class, have had a spanking from aunty Toni. There was a drawing of a willy on the blackboard and it blew out of all proportion and we all got 12 spanks across her knee. It was so embarrassing! Bad enough from any teacher, but from you aunty!” I trailed off. “Chloe then got a second spanking, the slipper I think because she admitted it had been her idea, but did not draw it herself,” I added.

“Well, did you do it?” mum asked directly. She knew me so well!

“Only because they egged me on and wouldn’t shut up about it. We thought she would tick us off. None of us expected to end up over her knee because of it,” I added, feeling sorry for myself.

“Well,” said mum. “I will be seeing her on Sunday where the subject is bound to come up,” she said with a wry smile. “It’s up to you, you can tell her what you have just told me, or I can.”

“Mum, no! You wouldn’t! Why?” I shouted, more in panic than anything else.

“Chloe has rightly been punished for her part in it, so should you, Lucy, if I am being brutally honest. If you go to see her tomorrow, she can deal with it in private at her home. Otherwise, it will be at school. Which would you prefer?”

It was a no-brainer really. Mum rang her sister to say I was coming over on Saturday morning, the following day. I know aunty Toni knew exactly what the score was. Mum dropped me off on her way to the supermarket and I said I’d make my own way home, thank you very much!

I walked down the long path and rang the doorbell. I was dressed in jeans, tee shirt and a tank top over that. Seconds later, a yellow image appeared through the frosted glass and grew steadily larger until the door opened and aunty Toni smiled at me.

“Good morning, Lucy. I hope your bottom was not too sore after your spanking yesterday. Poor Chloe received 12 with the slipper for her part, poor girl. She was sobbing like a small child,” she added, clearly for effect. “What brings you over here today, my dear?” she said fondly, but with a slight edge to her voice.

“Actually, I have something to tell you,” I said nervously.

“Spit it out! You have gotten this far, Lucy. Come on, dear, out with whatever it is,” she asked softly.

“Aunty Toni, I am sorry, it was me. I drew that stupid willy on the board!”

There, I had said it.

“Chloe started it and egged me on, and the rest of the class joined in soon after. Just before you arrived, I cracked and drew it. I am so sorry. I should have owned up there and then and none of this would have happened.”

“Well, don’t be too hard on yourself. Firstly, it was not your idea, but Chloe’s. Secondly, everyone else pressured you, and if they had been brave enough to say something, I would have only had two bottoms to spank yesterday not seven, so that is on them, not you,” she said kindly.

I reached forwards and hugged her firmly. “Thank you for being so understanding, aunty Toni,” I said with tears in my eyes.

She rubbed my back a little, but then in her school teacher voice said, “However, you did draw it. you didn’t own up, and as a result all seven of you had to be spanked. I would have given out 2 spankings and 5 detentions if you had said then what you said now. I fear your friends will not be too happy on Monday.”

“I guess not, no,” was about all I could manage to say at the time.

“So, dear, it is up to you. You have a spanking coming, you know that. We can either do it after school on Monday, which will give you a chance to explain what is happening to your friends on Monday, or we can get it over with now and I will make a comment in class on Monday afternoon. The punishment would be the same in either case,” she explained.

“I’d like, if that is the correct word in such an instance, to get it over with please, aunty Toni,” I said dejectedly.

“Very well, Lucy, I think that is probably for the best. Come on through to the kitchen with me.”

She led the way. The kitchen was large with a 4-seater table well away from the work tops and was only overlooked by her own hedge-lined garden.

“It’s better here, no prying eyes. I always spanked my two in here. More cosy.”

Cosy didn’t enter my mind. Wherever she did it, my bottom was going to be very sore very soon, so the location was not exactly in my top 10 considerations right now. She pulled out a chair and set it down a foot or so from the table with its back facing it and sat down. She was wearing a thin blue sweater and slacks, perfect clothing I thought, almost as if she had expected this as an outcome.

I started to bend over for her, but she stopped me.

“If we were at school, I would have your skirt up and spank you on your panties. So,” she said, unbuttoning my jeans and working them down over my bum to my knees, “We’ll have these down, thank you very much.”

In doing so, she pulled my blue panties down a little at one side. For a second I thought they were coming off too, but she pulled them back into place and pulled me down over her knee ready for her to start the spanking. Unlike yesterday’s almost military operation as she had 7 of us to get through, today she was in no hurry. If she wasn’t my aunty I might have thought she was enjoying it.

Carefully, she pulled the jeans a little further down and then rubbed my bottom a little.

“I was considering the same punishment as Chloe received, but using a carpet slipper rather than a plimsoll which I confess I don’t have at home, but in view of the pressure you were put under and your confession, I think a spanking with the hand will just about suffice,” and with that her hand lifted and crashed into my bottom.

Wow, that stung! Admittedly, I had not received two big spankings less than a day apart before and wondered if that was something to do with it but with the second and third spanks I realised she was spanking harder than yesterday. I grunted with increasing volume as each spank landed. She paused briefly.

“I see you are feeling the effects more today. Yesterday, I had to treat you all the same, but what you didn’t realise was you had chalk on your bottom, presumably from where you had rushed to get back from the board before I got into the classroom, so I pretty well knew it was you. I hoped you would own up then, but I am pleased you have done so now.”

Spank, another slap landed, and another. I think there must have been at least 30 by now.

“I was disappointed in you yesterday but I am proud you have faced the music.”


“It has been a long time since I have had to spank someone in this kitchen. Please make sure we don’t have to do this again, Lucy.”

Spank! How many more?

Two was the answer.

Aunty Toni rubbed my scorching bottom and said, “Get up, I think you have learned your lesson. Pull your jeans up and I’ll make a cup of tea.”

Oh boy, did I regret wearing my tight-fitting jeans. It was agony pulling them up. I should have worn a dress or a skirt.

‘It’s too late now,’ I thought as I rubbed my bottom briskly once I was dressed again.

Sitting uncomfortably at the table drinking our tea, the spanking was not mentioned. She asked what I was doing for the rest of the weekend and offered to run me home, but I said I would enjoy the walk. On the way, I bumped into Chloe in the park and told her what had just happened. We both laughed, both with sore bottoms, mine more so having only just been spanked, but Chloe said she could still feel all 12 landing zones from the slippering. We hugged; no hard feelings, and went our separate ways.

Mum was home when I got back. “How did it go? she asked.

“Do you want a blow by blow account?” I snapped.

“Don’t be like that,” she responded.

“Sorry mum,” and I hugged her tightly. “Aunty Toni had already worked out it was me. I had chalk dust on my bottom, she told me.”

“Yes, she mentioned that yesterday when I rang her,” mum added.

“Oh, right. Well, it’s all finished now. I bumped into Chloe on the way home and we made up and hugged. So I feel better about that anyway.”

Mum asked, “What did she do? Slipper you like Chloe or did she use the hairbrush like she did on your cousins?”

That was new to me. I had never thought about how she punished them at home.

“She took my jeans down, put me over her knee and spanked me, just with her hand. Just? It hurt much more than yesterday and went on a lot longer too. Then we had a cup of tea.”

“Oh well, forwards and upwards. Get changed and I’ll make us some lunch,” mum said kindly.

I peeled my jeans off carefully and put on a loose-itting pair of tracksuit bottoms, quite thick on the bottom area, after observing the damage in the mirror first. Mum and aunty Toni had both spanked me before, but my bottom had never been quite that red.

On Monday, true to her word, Mrs Jackson announced to the class that I had owned up, somewhat belatedly, to the drawing and had been soundly spanked at the weekend, and that now the matter was closed.

The End

© Jill Waterhouse 2021