A girl is slippered, but it doesn’t end there.

By Julie Baker

My name is Jennifer Todd and I was born in London in October 1965. My parents were both lawyers and money was never in short supply, particularly given that I was an only child. My early schooling was unremarkable, but at 13 I was sent away to my father’s old boarding school which was in the Midlands and had recently gone co-educational. I was in the second batch of girls to be admitted and we were firmly in the minority. I made friends easily, applied myself well to my studies and was good at most sports, so the environment suited me very well. I got good O level results and opted to do English, French and Geography for A levels. I did make a conscious effort not to get too involved with any of my fellow male pupils.

I had many good friends amongst the boys but I could see the danger of complications with relationships at close quarters. Hormones run high at that age and I knew that I was a pretty girl who could get herself into trouble without too much effort. I had a slim figure with long legs and my bottom was nicely shaped and well toned. My breasts were soft and, combining all these features, I knew that I was an attractive girl when it came to the opposite sex. In those days my hair was just short of shoulder length and it was thick and blonde, which proved to be ideal colouring for our black and dark blue school colours.

My school was one of the last independent schools in the country to abolish corporal punishment. It was canings for the boys and the slipper for the girls, but it was rarely used. Maybe twenty canings over the whole school year would be about average and a girl was probably only dealt with by slippering five or six times a year. It was a large school so these numbers were quite low. The headmaster, Mr Hunter, dealt with the boys and Miss Jameson, as Head of Girls, dealt with any of us who needed to be punished in this way. I got into the odd occasional disciplinary scrape but was never close to being slippered until my final year at the school. This is what I want to tell you about.

My misdemeanour was unremarkable and isn’t worthy of much explanation here. The school premises were intermingled with the small town where it was located and there was a strict rule that no pupils were allowed to visit the pubs in town, irrespective of whether you were over 18 or not. If you were caught in a pub the punishment was an automatic canning or slippering. I was the only girl in the upper sixth to have a boyfriend in the town, rather than at school. I was 18 in the October of my final school year and he turned 18 the following March. We decided to celebrate when he turned 18 by going to a pub on the far side of town where I was fairly certain we would not be spotted.

I was wrong. A member of the domestic staff saw me in the pub and reported me to Miss Jameson. Miss Jameson was a sports teacher by training and combined her duties of being Head of Girls with running the school’s new sports centre as well as the school teams for girl’s sports. Her office was therefore in the Sports Centre where I was summonsed to see her at the end of the following day. This was not a normal appointment and I pretty much knew where this situation was heading. She confirmed my worst fears and said that she had no option other than to punish me with a slippering. I liked Miss Jameson, who must have been in her early thirties, and I got the impression that this was not a course of action she wanted to take but the rules left her with no alternative.

The procedure for a girl being slippered at that school was well known to everyone. I’m certainly no expert in knowing what is normal in these situations, but I’m fairly sure the school’s traditions and Miss Jameson’s own routine contained a number of features that wouldn’t be replicated elsewhere. First of all, punishments were always administered so that pupils had no protective clothing in place. This would originally have been the procedure when it was a boys’ only school and there were a number of theories why this might have been introduced originally. Maybe it was for fairness, given that one individual’s clothing might differ from another’s. Possibly it was to heighten the embarrassment of the recipient or even to increase the pain inflicted. A more likely reason, however, was for the safety of a boy being punished so that the effect of the cane could clearly be seen. Whatever was the thinking behind it, though, the tradition was also carried over for the girls’ slipperings.

I would imagine that corporal punishments over the years have generally been undertaken in a teacher’s study, or in class if the punishment is more like a routine ‘rap over the knuckles’. However, Miss Jameson administered her slipperings in the Sports Hall. She was unmarried and lived on the school premises, so often supervised the one hour self programming sessions between 7.00pm and 9.00pm. The Sports Hall was big enough to accommodate three tennis courts side by side and pupils would arrange to play tennis, badminton, basketball, indoor hockey or 5 aside football. Games had to finish by 9.00pm and then pupils had 15 minutes to shower, change and leave the building.

When Miss Jameson had a girl in for punishment, she had to arrive at the Sports Hall just before 9.00pm and change into her games kit. Pupils who had being playing games had to clear all equipment away after the last session and she would then commandeer two pupils to lift out a vaulting box which would be positioned at the opposite end to the changing rooms by Miss Jamesons’ office.

I’m sure everyone would know a vaulting box if they saw one. They are rectangular and made of wood. They have five sections which come up from floor level tapering towards a padded top which is normally covered in soft suede leather. Full height is probably about four feet, but Miss Jameson had one section removed when it was being used for a punishment so that it stood about hip high. Because of Miss Jameson’s routine, those pupils at the Sports Hall would know that a punishment was about to take place and there could only be one reason for any girl arriving at the Sports Hall at 9.00pm and changing into her games kit.

Anyway, this sets the scene for when I arrived at the Sports Hall on that March day. It was early in the month and it had being snowing hard all day, so although I was not looking forward to my punishment it was a relief to feel the warmth when I got into the main building. I hadn’t told anyone, apart from my closest friend, Jane, that I was getting the slipper, so when I arrived at the girl’s changing rooms I avoided all eye contact and conversation with the other girls. They all seemed much younger than me and probably didn’t feel confident enough to ask me why I was there.

I put on my standard games kit, which consisted of white polo shirt, pleated navy skirt, which was mid thigh in length, white ankle socks and trainers. I don’t know why, but I also put on my favourite white satin-feel tennis panties which I thought were more flattering than my standard navy gym knickers. I knew they would be coming off again fairly quickly, so I’m not sure why I was bothered!

I had not been in this situation before. I have a reasonably high pain threshold but even so I was having a severe attack of ‘butterflies in my stomach’ at this point. At about ten past nine, I left the changing room with my holdall containing my ordinary clothes, and went through to the main hall. Even at a distance, the first thing that caught my eye in the totally empty space was the vaulting box. The site of this brought it home to me that in a few minutes time I would be bent over it receiving my punishment. As I got closer I could see a large and heavy looking plimsoll at the far end of the box and I was in no doubt as to what this was for. At that moment Miss Jameson emerged from her office.

“Hello, Jenny,” she said in a kindly voice. “Thanks for being on time. Please take off your knickers and pop them on the vaulting box by my shoe while I go up the other end to turn out the lights and lock up. Then we’ll be ready to go and we can get this over with.”

I couldn’t believe how matter of fact she was, given what was about to happen!

Without waiting for a reply, she strode up the hall and disappeared into the complex of rooms at the far end. I had hoped she would let me only lower my underwear to the top of my thighs as this would allow her to slipper my bottom with no protection. However, I didn’t bother asking as, frankly, it wasn’t going to make much difference. I slipped my panties down and stepped out of them. Meantime there was a banging of doors and I could see the lights being extinguished in the viewing gallery upstairs. Before long, she returned. Having done as instructed, I was standing by the box with a bare bottom beneath my skirt. I could feel my heart beating faster.

“OK, Jenny, we know why you are here. You could have committed worse crimes, in my view, but the school rules leave me no alternative but to give you six with the slipper for being caught in a pub during the school term. I know you are over 18 but you must have known you were running a risk that could lead you to this situation. Now please stand close in at this end of the vaulting box and bend over with your legs together so that your body is laying on the top. It’s up to you where you want to put your arms, but I suggest you clasp them together around the far end.”

This I did. She had adjusted the height of the apparatus perfectly so that I could comfortably achieve the position she wanted. There was nothing comfortable, though, about the feeling of vulnerability when Miss Jameson lifted the back of my skirt before lying it flat up my back. My bottom was totally exposed and I could feel the cool air playing over my skin. My head was pointing towards Miss Jameson’s office and my other end pointed into the vast empty space of the Sports Hall. To say that I felt exposed and at her mercy would be a massive understatement!

To that point, I hadn’t uttered a single word since parting from Jane at the entrance into the complex. Miss Jameson picked up the plimsoll and asked if I was ready.

“Yes, Miss,” I replied.

What happened next was a considerable shock. I had the impression Miss Jameson liked me and could see that, at 18, I was probably not due much of a punishment for being in a pub. The first whack from that shoe certainly dispelled that theory. The plimsoll cracked into my bottom and the noise reverberated around the hall. The sting was massive, but I’d hardly had time to take in what was happening when the second one arrived. Another massive crack and the stinging sensation was doubled. By the time the third and fourth ones landed, the sting had turned into deep seated pain penetrating the deepest part of my bottom. I was determined to stay in position and not cry out, but this was getting to be almost impossible after the fifth blow from the plimsoll.

“Last one, Jenny,” I heard Miss Jameson say.

It didn’t disappoint. Easily the hardest one of the six but, although my eyes were watering, I wasn’t crying and hadn’t made even the slightest noise in response to the onslaught from that shoe. I stayed in position draped over the vaulting box.

“You are a brave and tough girl, Jenny,” said Miss Jameson in admiring tones. “I stepped it up because I didn’t seem to be having much affect on you, but you’ve managed to cope fine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl take it that well. Well done, you can get up now.”

“Thank you, Miss,” I heard myself reply as I peeled myself off that vaulting box. I’m not sure her compliment was something really to be proud of though.

“Can I go, please?” I asked.

“Yes, Jenny. You’ll need to go out of the staff entrance at this end as the main entrance is now locked. Good night, and try to stay out of trouble!”

With this, I gathered up my panties and replaced them beneath my skirt. I was soon back out in the fresh air and Jane was waiting for me.

“How did you get on?” She asked.

“Pretty hellish,” I replied. “Let’s get out of here,” I added as I gently massaged my throbbing bottom beneath my skirt.

And that, you might think, would be that. However, there were a couple of unusual footnotes to this affair that you might find interesting or even amusing.

Initially, Jane and I walked along the front of the Sports Hall back towards our boarding house saying nothing. There must have been four inches of fresh snow on the ground and the temperature was heading down towards zero. I wasn’t feeling the cold, though, as my body was still high on adrenalin following the slippering I had just received. The cricket field stood between us and our destination. The path around the boundary fence was well lit, but the pitch itself disappeared into the darkness. There was nobody else around.

“God, that was some beating, Jane,” I said eventually. “You’ve no idea how much my bum is throbbing. I’m going to have some awful bruising tomorrow.”

Jane pondered for a few seconds. “You could do worse than sit in the snow on one of these benches, Jenny. The icy snow will numb your bum and cold is supposed to be good for reducing bruising.”

“OK, thanks for the tip, Jane. Worth a try,” I replied.

The benches faced onto the boundary fence with their backs towards the path. We selected one under a light and we went around the front of it, making tracks in the fresh snow. Jane stood and watched as I once again took off my panties. I then raised my skirt, lowered my bottom into the fresh snow on the bench and allowed my games skirt to fall back down to cover my thighs. I then placed my panties on my lap.

“How long am I going to have to stick this out for?” I asked Jane.

“10 minutes,” she suggested as she checked her watch.

After 5 minutes I was really feeling the benefit, despite my bottom now aching with the cold. The deep throbbing had gone and my only problem was that I was starting to shiver.

“I think I’m going to have to cut short, Jane,” I said.

However, at that moment we heard the crunch of feet in the snow. Mr Barnes, our young maths teacher, emerged out of the gloom of the cricket pitch with his dog. He walked straight up to us and I immediately thought about the bright white panties sitting on my lap. He must have seen them!

“Good evening, Ladies. This is a strange place to be sitting with not many clothes on. Hadn’t you better be getting back to your house?”

“Yes, sir,” we replied in unison.

I got up, having grabbed my panties and tried to hide them in my hand. Without further conversation, we headed off. We will never know whether his remark about not having many clothes on was because I was dressed on a cold night in only my games kit with no coat, or whether he was referring to my lack of underwear. I suspect he knew that my bare bottom was planted in the snow on the bench and probably quite enjoyed the mental picture!

The other footnote to this affair was a bit more serious. I had been in the pub on the Sunday. I had been interviewed by Miss Jameson on the Monday, and slippered on the Tuesday evening. Then on Wednesday around lunchtime I got another note to see Miss Jameson in her office that afternoon after lessons. I couldn’t work out why she wanted to see me again. However, I was in for a surprise. She asked me how well I knew a boy in my year called Peter Johnson. I said that I didn’t think that I did but when Miss Jameson described him and told me that he did maths and sciences for his A levels, I could place him. He was painfully shy and quite short in height, certainly a few inches below me. He was actually quite good looking but he was the sort of boy who you would never have any reason to talk to.

“Well, I caught him trying to sneak out of the staff entrance to the Sports Hall after our appointment yesterday. Seemingly he had been playing football in the last session last night and had seen the vaulting horse being moved into position. He put two and two together and decided to hide in the boys toilets so that he could go up to the viewing gallery to witness the slippering he knew was about to take place.

Of course afterwards he couldn’t exit by the normal door because it was locked and I caught him trying to go out by the staff door. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy with his behaviour and I have reported him to Mr Hunter. He will be caned tomorrow. However, Mr Hunter has asked me to ask you if you want to be present when Johnson is punished. He considers this to be only fair and might teach Johnson an extra lesson. What do you think Jenny?”

“Thanks, but I don’t think that will be necessary, Miss. He has been a bit naughty but probably best to let Mr Hunter deal with him on his own. Appreciate the offer though.”

I got up and walked towards the door. However, I am curious by nature and the thought flashed across my mind that this would be my one and only chance to witness one of the great traditions of a boy’s public school life; a boy’s caning from the headmaster.

“Can I change my mind, Miss?” I asked.

“Yes, Jenny, no problem. Mr Hunter wants you to wait in the 6th form Common Room from 4 o’clock onwards tomorrow afternoon and he’ll send for you when he is ready.”

The following day was Thursday and it was about ten past four when the school secretary came to get me. I was soon knocking on the heavy door to Mr Hunter’s office and I heard his voice inviting me in. He was sat at his desk and Peter was stood in front of him with his back to me.

“Come in and take a seat, Jenny.”

Mr Hunter looked genuinely warm towards me. Peter was looking at the floor disconsolately and avoiding any eye contact with me.

“I gather that you now have the whole story about what Peter was up to in the Sports Hall on Tuesday evening. I am about to cane him and you are here to demonstrate to him what it is like to have someone else watching whilst you are punished. He has something to say to you.”

Finally Peter lifted his gaze to meet mine.

“I’m sorry for what I did,” was all he could manage in a low voice. His eyes already looked watery and he was clearly not looking forward to what was about to happen.

“OK, Johnson, you know what to do. Get yourself ready.”

Poor old Peter, I thought. I could see that his hands were shaking as he unfastened the waist band on his trousers and lowered his zip. In a single movement his trousers and pants were down around his ankles and he then turned towards the fireplace so that his back was towards me. He then raised his shirt tail clear of his bottom and bent over to grab his ankles. The sight of his little pink bottom offered up for a thrashing will be etched in my memory forever.

Mr Hunter went to his cupboard and there was a rattling of canes as he chose the one that he wanted. It was about three feet long with a crook handle, and maybe a bit thinner than I expected. I didn’t know whether this was good or bad news for Peter. Presumably thinner canes might bite more but maybe leave less bruising. This really wasn’t something that I was qualified to have a view on!

However, Mr Hunter was not holding back. He delivered six sharp blows to Peter’s bottom and they clearly had a significant affect. He was crying after the first one and let out a loud yelp after every stroke. I could see the red lines clearly on his skin and by the end he was totally in pieces. The routine must have been that he couldn’t get up until Mr Hunter told him that he could, and he remained in position for a couple of minutes. Meantime, Mr Hunter busied himself with replacing the cane in the cupboard and writing an entry into his punishment book. I couldn’t take my eyes off Peter’s bottom.

“OK, Johnson, you can get up now.”

Peter straightened up and pulled up his trousers and pants.

“Sign here, Peter, and then you are both free to go,” Mr Hunter concluded.

Within a few seconds we were walking out through the door together. Initially being thrown together like this felt a little surreal after the preceding events. We walked side by side saying nothing until we were outside of the Headmaster’s building. I concluded we were both probably going back to our houses, which were located side-by-side and about a 10 minute walk away. Peter was still gently sobbing. I put my arm round his shoulders and broke the silence.

“Was that your first time, Peter?”

“No, second,” he replied. There was another short silence. “That was far worse than the first time, though,” he ventured.

“Yes, I was quite shocked about how severe he was on you,” I sympathised.

“I’m also embarrassed that I’m crying like a baby, but you took your punishment so well, Jenny. It didn’t seem to get to you at all!”

“Don’t worry about it. I think I would have been in tears after that,” I replied.

“I am sorry though, Jenny. I suppose I shouldn’t have done it really. It was a spur of the moment thing. I had been playing football with my mates and I was one of the last to leave the hall. Miss Jameson asked me to help get the vaulting box out and I knew that one of the girls was going to get the slipper. I made sure I was the last to leave the changing room, but instead of going out I hid in the toilets. Once all the lights were out it was easy to slip up to the viewing gallery. I’m really sorry if you feel that I have done something awful to you.”

“It’s OK,” Peter, I replied. “I wouldn’t have chosen to have somebody watching me go through something like that but I admire your pluck and enterprise, and I suppose there’s no harm done.”

He seemed to brighten up a bit after that and I dropped my arm from his shoulders.

“Thanks for saying that, Jenny.” He was clearly feeling a little bolder now that he knew I was bearing no grudges.

“I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw it was you,” he went on. “The prettiest girl in school, and when Miss Jameson raised the back of your skirt I got to see a sight every boy in the school could only dream of. You have a beautiful bottom, Jenny.”

“Thank you, but not so beautiful now, Peter! It’s a mass of black and blue bruises. I expect yours will be in a bit of a mess for a few days also.”

“Yes, expect you are going to be right there, Jenny,” he replied. “However, I must tell you, now that I know you are not too upset, it was well worth it!”

At this point I decided to give him a bit of advice.

“I’m glad you think it was worth it, Peter, but it strikes me that you’re living in a bit of a fantasy world. You ought to go out and get yourself a nice girlfriend so that you can get some real experiences.”

“I know you are right,” he replied. “But I’ve never been full on with a girl and I’m frightened that I wouldn’t know what to do.”

There was a short pause in the conversation while we both contemplated his position. Then he continued.

“I don’t suppose you would do it with me just once, would you Jenny?”

I couldn’t believe his audacity! One minute he is the naughty school boy getting his bottom smacked and the next minute he is propositioning me for sex!

“No, that is not going to be possible, Peter. Anyway, I don’t know what makes you think that I’m the expert. I’ve only been doing it for less than a year so I’m still learning. Come on, you’re a good looking lad and I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty finding a girlfriend if you just put the effort in!”

We both laughed at this point and then walked off in separate directions to return to our houses. Him, to hopefully get something soothing to rub into his sore bottom and me to sit quietly and reflect on an interesting few days.

The End

© Julie Baker 2017            Email Julie at  julie.baker_cane@mail.com     or  Julie’s Twitter address is:  @JulieBaker_cane