Trouble at school means trouble at home

by Robert Roberts

I didn’t want to spank Lucy, but I had no choice. I arranged with the class that in the last term before exams we would do away with detentions for missed or late homework and go straight to spankings. There was no dissent. Everyone agreed. Three spankings were awarded within a couple of weeks of my agreement with the class, and they went through without any problems or disagreement on the part of the recipients.

But then we come to Lucy. A very quiet and private girl. Well behaved, in fact a near perfect disciplinary record, not top of the class academically by any means, but always worked hard, was conscientious and never missed a homework deadline. A rather frail looking girl and, not meaning to be rude, you could mistake her for a fourteen-year-old rather than a student preparing for A levels. She had twin brothers in the lower school whose characters were noticeably different to hers. Full of fun, noisy, sometimes badly behaved but never anything serious. Good parents with a high level of involvement in their children’s education and the school in general. They were in full agreement with the school handling the discipline of their three children.

I said I didn’t want to spank Lucy. That’s not quite true. I accepted it was my responsibility to administer spankings, and my interest was always aroused by a girl bending over on my command and taking a few swats from my leather paddle. For the less serious offences, it was never my intention to cause students too much suffering. A sharp sting at the point of delivery, a couple of hours of being uncomfortable, but the pain would subside to nothing by the evening. Perhaps slight bruising the following day. Usually carried out in an atmosphere of cordiality, I tried to promote all round respect. I got the impression students realised I had a job to do and best get on with it, and I certainly showed them respect during the proceedings. Humiliation would not be part of the process of punishment in my classroom. I say this because I was aware that several of my colleagues thought humiliation was very much part of the punishment.

So back to Lucy. Of all the students in my class, Lucy was the most unlikely to miss a homework. She stood in front of me ten minutes ahead of the 9.00 o’clock clanging of the bell to start lessons. Tears in her eyes she quietly spoke.

“I’ve left my homework on the kitchen table. My Dad offered us a lift to school if we were quick and in the rush I didn’t pick up my homework.”

She was clearly upset. I learned later from Jean, her best friend who was also given a lift into school by Lucy’s father, that her twin brothers had teased her on the way telling her she was going to get the whack. She pleaded with her father to turn the car round but he refused.

“No time, love. It’s your responsibility. You’ll have to accept the consequences.”

I really felt sorry for her, believing it was a genuine mistake, but at the same time I was not averse to setting this young lady’s bottom on fire. Jean stood next to her friend trying to support her but they both knew the outcome.

“Will I get the whack, Sir?” Lucy nervously inquired. “With your permission I could go home at lunchtime and get my homework.”

“That won’t be necessary, Lucy. Tomorrow morning will do. I believe you have done your homework but you have been careless and forgotten to bring it. So, yes, you will receive five swats.”

The tears quietly rolled down her face and I tried to calm her.

“Don’t upset yourself Lucy. Mistakes happen. It’s not serious.  Sit down at your desk and wait for my call.”

As she walked away, I noticed she was wearing tight-fitting school regulation black trousers. I thought that bending over the desk her trousers would stretch very nicely over her slim bottom to present an agreeable target.

A couple of minutes later, Lucy returned.

“Can my spanking be in private, Sir? I don’t want anyone else to see it.”

“No, Lucy. You will be dealt with the same as everyone else, but don’t make this a bigger deal than what it is,” I advised as she walked away disconsolately.

By the time the 9.00 o’clock bell clanged, the students had arrived and handed in their homework books. I exchanged a few pleasantries with some of them before standing up and addressing the class.

“Apart from Lucy, has everyone submitted their homework?”

All eyes turned on Lucy. Poor girl was deeply embarrassed, especially when some teasing comments were forthcoming. Like me, nobody thought Lucy would forget her homework. I instructed the class to settle down and reminded the more vociferous students that adverse comments and teasing would result in my paddle being used on offenders. I observed some of the boys were grinning and undoubtably looking forward to ‘Miss Goody Goody Two Shoes’ getting the whack. But there was also mild concern being shown by some of her friends.

I called out to her. “OK Lucy. Shall we get it done?”

As she approached my desk I gave her an intended reassuring and sympathetic smile. She returned a weak smile through her tears. This was clearly an ordeal for her. I asked her to remove her blazer, which she did, and handed it to a fellow student at the front of the class. She knew what she had to do next, having witnessed previous classroom spankings, but waited for me instruct her.

“Get yourself over the desk, Lucy. Five swats to come.”

Her eyes silently appealed to me through the tears as though I might offer her a last minute reprieve, but hope vanished when I motioned to her to get across the desk. I removed my leather paddle from a drawer in the desk and we both prepared ourselves for the first swat. She spread herself across the desk and was positioned sideways to the class. I’m left handed and I stood between her and the blackboard. She had adopted an unusual position of arms folded, flat on the desk in front of her and her head resting on her arms and her face turned away from her classmates. I thought of telling her to take up the usual position of gripping the sides of the desk and looking forward but she was presenting her bottom in a satisfactory way so if she was comfortable then so be it.

“Stay as still as possible and we’ll get this over with quickly.”

I was interested to find out just how her slight frame would take the forthcoming pummelling. My first swat landed sweetly centre left cheek with a resounding crack. My concentration was broken by a shout from within the classroom, causing me to look up.

“One, Sir. Thank you, Sir. Next one please Sir.”

I saw the classroom idiot, Brian Fletcher, standing on a chair at the back of the classroom to get a better view of Lucy’s spanking. I ordered him to get down and shut up, otherwise he would be getting his bottom warmed. I returned my attention to Lucy. Because of the interruption I missed her reaction, if any, to the first swat.

My second shot was a replica of the first. Centre left cheek. It must have hurt, but she hardly moved and made no sound. I could see a tear rolling down her right cheek. The classroom was silent as I delivered the third swat with the same energy as the first two, but this time centre right cheek. She gasped and involuntarily raised her left foot off the floor, but quickly returned position. Two to come and surprisingly very little reaction so far.

‘Come on, Honey. Give me something,’ I thought to myself.

I was thinking the class would believe I was going easy on her. Usually by the third swat the recipients would be noisily displaying their discomfort. I observed strands of her curly, jet black hair had fallen over her face and tangled with her tears, giving her usual immaculate appearance a rather dishevelled look. Her eyes were clenched shut and she was biting her lower lip as she waited for the fourth swat. I didn’t delay and it was a hard one for Lucy to take. Across both cheeks, low down, probably catching the top of her thighs. At last, a discernible groan, but she stayed resolutely in position.

Fifth and final stroke went to her centre right cheek, and once again she remained motionless. I was quite surprised by the quiet way she had taken the punishment. After the last swat in a session the recipient usually jumps up clutching their bottoms and doing a dance accompanied by howling, much to the amusement of their classmates. Not so with Lucy. She remained in position as if she was going to receive anther swat. As I returned the paddle to the drawer I spoke to her.

“It’s over, Lucy. Up you get.”

But she appeared to be in no hurry. I was intrigued. I knew I had given her a sound spanking but she made no attempt to rub her stinging bottom. She slowly raised herself off the desk and tears were evident as she quietly walked back stiffly to her desk. The class remained silent, like me, bemused, all eyes following her as she eased herself onto her chair. Then the delayed reaction. She put her arms on the desk, lowered her head onto her arms and sobbed uncontrollably, comforted by her friend Jean.

She had failed to collect her blazer and so I picked it up and took it to her.

“Jean. Go with Lucy to the restroom and help sort her out.”

The two of them set off and I got on with teaching my class.

Today, I had this class for one period and then the class broke up and went their different ways before coming together again for the last period of the day. The final bell clanged at 4 o’clock and as the students noisily left for the day I called out to Lucy. I always made a point of engaging with a student who I had spanked.

“I just want to make sure that you are not going to let this spanking get you down, Lucy. You have an excellent record and this is just a minor blip. Just make sure you bring in your homework tomorrow. The matter is now closed. OK?”

Lucy was definitely subdued. “It’s not closed, Sir. My mum will give me the strap when I tell her you have whacked me. Whenever my brothers get punished at school, she repeats the punishment at home.”

“I’m really very sorry for you, Lucy. I’m not suggesting you lie to or deceive your mother, but why do you need to tell her? This will not be going on your school report.”

A deep sigh. “My brothers can’t wait to tell her,” she smiled briefly before her face returned to a sombre expression.

I thought of writing a note to explain that Lucy had been properly punished for a minor aberration, but then thought I should not interfere with parental discipline.

“See you tomorrow with your homework, Lucy and best of luck with your mother.”


Mrs Kendal shouted out to her twin 13-year-old sons. “Clear the breakfast table and load the dishwasher, please.”

“But Mum. That’s Lucy’s job,” complained Alex.

“I need Lucy for something else. You need to hurry up and get yourselves ready for school. Mrs White will be here to pick you up in twenty minutes and I don’t want you to keep her waiting.”

“Lucy. Make your way to the lounge, please. I haven’t got time to take you to your bedroom. Collect the strap from under the stairs.”

Adam asked. “Are you going to whack Lucy? Can I watch?”

“No! Get on with your chores.”

Lucy looked ashen. “Please, Mummy. Not now,” she pleaded.

“Yes, now, darling. You knew you were getting it, so hurry up. I’m running late.”

It was rare for Lucy to receive a spanking from her mother. The house rules were, whatever punishment was awarded at school it would be repeated at home. Because Lucy was so well behaved at school, there was never any call for her to be home punished. She had received the occasional domestic spanking for idleness or back chatting, but this school related spanking for failing to hand in her maths homework was a first. Her twin brothers had occasionally been on the receiving end of a spanking at school, which was automatically repeated at home.

Lucy reluctantly and slowly made her way to the cupboard under the stairs. She opened the door and collected the strap hanging on the back of the door. Mrs Kendal caught her up and took the 15 inch, two-ply strap from her and, with hand on her shoulder, gently pushed her in the direction of the lounge. Just as they entered the lounge, the front doorbell rang.

“That’s Jean,” said Lucy, hoping the arrival of her school friend might save her from an immediate spanking, but no such luck.

“Adam,” shouted Mrs Kendall. “Answer the door to Jean.” She motioned Lucy into the lounge and closed the door behind her.

“Mummy, please listen to me,” implored Lucy.

“What is it, Lucy?” asked her mother impatiently.

“Can’t we do this tonight? I’ve got PE this morning and the other students will make fun of me when they see my spanked bum.”

“I’m sure you can handle the other students,” was the unsympathetic response. “Now, you don’t get spanked very often, but you’ve seen me spank the boys, so you know the position to take up. Get yourself over the back of the chair and put your hands flat on the seat cushion. And it’s five, isn’t it?” She referred to the number of swats Lucy had received at school for forgetting her homework.

Mrs Kendal lifted her daughter’s short skirt. Normally, she frowned on the shortness of the skirt, but today it was helpful and she smiled to herself.

Lucy was glum.

“I have to do this, Lucy. I must treat you the same as the boys. You’re a good girl and I hope you won’t sulk. Ready?”

Adam had opened the front door for Jean. “Hi, Jean. You might have to wait a minute for Lucy. Mum is giving her the strap.”

Ready or not, the strap swished through the air and connected noisily with Lucy’s rear end. This was a shock. Pain well in access of Sir’s leather paddle from yesterday. A wide red band quickly emerged over her tiny bottom. She took her school punishment almost without flinching. Not so today. She let out a shout that reverberated around the room. The thwack, followed by the shout, could certainly be heard in the hallway where Jean was waiting for Lucy, accompanied by Adam, who decided to take a chance and wait around to listen to his sister getting the treatment. After all, fair’s fair. She gets to witness most of his spankings and even joined in once when he flicked tomato sauce on her new sweater.

Jean shuddered. This must be hurting, because her friend took five swats from Mr Radford yesterday without a sound. Alex came running into the hall from the kitchen as the second shot landed. The unmistakable thwack of the strap.

“Wow! Mum must be in a bad mood,” grimaced Alex.

“Have you loaded the dishwasher?” asked Adam.

“I’ve done my bit. The rest is yours,” responded Alex.

Adam hurried off. He didn’t want to miss Lucy’s thrashing but he wasn’t going to chance getting on the wrong side of his mum. As he approached the kitchen the third stroke connected, accompanied by some shouting. Unknown to those outside the lounge, Lucy had jumped to her feet clutching her burning bottom and shouted to her mum to stop.

But her mum wasn’t going to stop and pushed her daughter back in to position, and then delivered the fourth stroke with no less intensity. Not caring if the strap landed on bare flesh, knickers or skirt. She was in a hurry and wanted it finished, and there was an extra stroke to apply now because Lucy had stood up.

The fifth stroke landed and Alex darted for the stairs.

“That’s it. I’m off. She’s not catching me disobeying her.”

But then the sound of the sixth thwack could be clearly heard. Alex stopped on the third step of the stairs and gasped.

“She’s copped a sixth. Must have stood up,” and bolted upstairs to get ready for school.

Jean was shocked. She had never encountered such punishment. She had witnessed several class spankings, and had been on the receiving end herself, and she had heard stories of the more serious school canings, but these were always in private.

Mrs Kendal came out of the lounge cool as a cucumber to return the strap to the cupboard. Jean had always liked Mrs Kendal. A very smart lady, really good looking, always dressed immaculately and very pleasant. This was a side of her which Jean did not recognise.

“Hello, Jean. I guess you heard Lucy being whacked. She’s just tidying herself up. She’ll be out in a minute.”

Then she called to the twins.

“I’m going to work. Remember to lock the door when you leave.” Turning to Jean, she said, “Bye, Love,” and, collecting her car keys from a stand in the hall, she departed.

The lounge door opened and a dishevelled and shaking Lucy appeared. Jean grabbed her and gave her a big hug.

“My God, Lucy. That was awful. Are you OK?”

“Walking to school is going to be trying. Don’t know how I’ll get through PE,” said Lucy, ruefully rubbing her bottom. “Come on. Let’s go. Got to get my maths homework to Radford or he will delight in giving me another spanking.”

“And pretending he’s doing it reluctantly,” said Jean, trying to support her friend.

The End

© Robert Roberts 2020