A teaching assistant is curious

By Jo Green

Rachel Green was a 35-year-old classroom assistant. She was 5 feet 6 inches tall, currently single, quite slim, always dressed immaculately and enjoyed sports. She worked in a medium-sized secondary school and had started her role in 1979, working with one teacher, Emily Parker. Mrs Parker was a maths teacher working with all age groups in the school, which was a demanding job. Although a few years older than Rachel, Emily had an hourglass figure which her wardrobe showed off perfectly. She was 45-years-old, but could easily pass as the same age as Rachel. The two ladies had worked together for 4 years and got on pretty well. They did very occasionally socialise outside school, but this was generally in a group environment.

The school was on the edge of two private residential estates and so had a decent mix of academic students, more practically adept students and of course those who just did not want to be there at all. As with all schools at that time, discipline came in many guises. Extra homework and detentions were handed out, and 25 or 30 kids could be in a detention class. For more serious punishments, the teachers were allowed to spank their pupils, either with the hand, the ruler across the palms or on the backside, a slipper or plimsoll and, for the worst offenders, a trip to the headmistress for a taste of the cane. This was administered to both sexes across their underpants or knickers. Rachel, as an assistant, was not however allowed to lay a hand on an errant pupil. Instead, she had to ask Emily to punish the pupil and had little say in the degree and manner of the spanking. The limit of her authority in that regard was dishing out a detention or lines.

As a youngster, Rachel had been the class rebel and as a result had suffered in several ways. Firstly, after poor O levels and A levels, university was out of the question. Now working as a teaching assistant, Rachel could only wonder what it was like to give a whacking. One day, however, all that changed; August 28th, 1983.

Next door to Rachel lived the Newbold family on one side, and a wood opened out on the other. The Newbolds were a typical family. Dad, Ron worked in a bank in town.  Mum, Helen, worked in town too, as a legal secretary. They had two children; John who was 19 and backpacking around India for his gap year, and was due back in 2 or 3 weeks’ time. Then there was Sandy, who was 17 and in the sixth form at Rachel’s school. Like Rachel, at home she was often in trouble. Arguments could be heard through the dividing wall next door and sometimes the clear and distinctive sound of spanking could be heard.

John, a model teenager by all accounts, used to think this was hilarious. He loved seeing his younger sister being spanked, sometimes with her knickers around her knees. Rachel knew this because from the bottom of her garden, where their potting shed was, she could see directly into the lounge next door. In summer, when the windows were open, she could hear as well as see.

Of late, however, things had started to quieten down somewhat. Arguments became less frequent. Spankings, too, were less frequent and usually administered by Helen, as Ron had been promoted and worked longer hours.

On the weekend of the 28th August, Helen and Ron were away for a friend’s wedding. As Sandy’s behaviour seemed to be so much better, they decided to leave her alone in the house for the weekend. Monday was a bank holiday, so they would be staying over and coming back on the Monday morning.

Rachel had been rather worried when she heard, fearing loud music and parties but, much to Rachel’s surprise, the Friday and Saturday nights passed off peacefully. Rachel had been sitting in the garden until around 8 o’clock both nights, and there was hardly a sound from next door. She had seen Sandy and they had exchanged pleasantries, but that was all.

On Sunday, Rachel was dusting her sitting room when she heard shouting from next door. She assumed, wrongly, Sandy’s parents had come back early, but their car wasn’t there. Soon, a loud slamming noise told Rachel that Sandy had been shouting down the telephone. All went quite quiet for a while and, having finished the house work, Rachel made a large mug of tea and sat in the garden with a magazine. Seconds later, she heard the familiar sound of the neighbour’s back door being virtually thrown off its hinges and a very angry Sandy emerging into the garden.

Wearing a low cut and very short pretty little blue summer dress, Sandy moved with the pace of a very angry young woman. Rachel sat tight and kept quiet. The next few seconds went by in slow motion. Sandy picked up a plant pot containing beautiful orange marigolds from the patio table and threw it with all her might at the low fence which divided the two gardens. Her throw was so strong that it overshot by several feet and landed in the centre of the glass lid to Rachel’s cold frame. Both the pot and glass lid shattered into dozens of pieces.

Rachel was stunned, and even Sandy stood in disbelief at what had just unfolded. Her anger dissipated, she stood with her hands over her mouth. Instinctively, she looked around to see if she had been seen. Rachel, resplendent in a bright yellow tee shirt was hard to miss, and Sandy’s heart sank.

“What the hell?” Rachel shouted at the teenager. More shocked than angry at this stage, she stared in disbelief at what she had just seen.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Rachel,” stammered Sandy. It seemed strange calling her Rachel rather than Miss Green, as she was called at school.

“What? Why?” exclaimed Rachel as she replayed the last 45 seconds over again in her mind’s eye.

“It’s mum again!” Sandy tried to explain.

“She’s not even here, Sandy. Try again!” Rachel was becoming angry now the shock was fading.

“No, on the phone, nagging me. Have I done this? I hope you’ve not done that. I’ll be checking with Rachel when I get home. She does my brain in sometimes, Rachel. She really does,” Sandy sobbed.

Rachel had some sympathy with that. She had said something similar to their neighbour when she had been about 15-years-old after a blazing face-to-face row with her own mother.

“And that gives you the right to smash up my cold frame, does it?”

“That was a total accident. You saw what happened, Rachel.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. You threw that plant pot without care or regard for what happened to it. Wait until your parents get home. I will be having strong words with them.”

Rachel actually didn’t want to do that. She had built up a bit of a bond with Sandy in the classroom, and seemed to be helping improve her behaviour and work attitude. She didn’t really want to prejudice that if it could be avoided.

“Why? There is really no need, Miss, er, Rachel. You know what will happen!”

“I think so. From what I have heard through the walls, you will get a telling-off and probably a smacked bottom too,” Rachel said. “To be honest, I think you well deserve both.”

“You’re probably right. They’ll no doubt ground me for the rest of the week, make me pay for the repairs, spank me, and make me write you an apology letter.” Sandy counted each item on the fingers of her left hand as she went through them. “I am sorry about what I did. I do deserve a good telling-off, yes. The spanking is fair enough too. But I really don’t want to be stuck at home for the last week of the holidays. That would be too much. I’m enjoying being at home without my parents.

“I can’t just let this go, Sandy. I can’t. Look at what you did,” she said, pointing at the smashed lid of the cold frame and scattered marigold petals.

“Wait there,” Sandy said and, before Rachel could say anything, she turned and walked purposefully into the house.

After a couple of minutes, she returned and handed Rachel a crisp new £5 note left over from her birthday money.

“That will more than cover the cost of the broken glass. And I don’t need to write the apology letter. I have looked you in the eye and apologised, and I will do so again if you wish. Rachel, I am very sorry for my actions. They were totally out of order and I am sorry for the consequences. I accept the stupidity of my angry outburst has caused harm and damage and I am happy to accept any punishment you deem fit. But please, can we sort this between us now, and not involve my parents?”

“What do you mean, punishment? That is for your parents to do, not me,” Rachel said, slightly taken aback.

Sandy looked at Rachel with a look of pleading in her eyes. “But if you tell them, all of those other things will happen. Next week will be sheer hell for me at home.”

Again, Rachel could understand the teenager’s viewpoint.

Sandy continued. “I’m not disputing that, either way, I have a well-deserved spanking coming my way. But, given a choice between going over dad or mum’s lap tomorrow, and all of the additional consequences that entails, and being spanked now by you, Rachel, given the choice, I would choose you any time.”

Suddenly out of nowhere, the opportunity Rachel had been wanting had presented itself. She asked herself why she was hesitating. The girl deserves it; she says so herself. She is asking you to do it, rather than her parents. It is now or never.

“OK, Sandy, you win. Come on over later and we’ll discuss this further.”

“Actually, I am going out later to the cinema with Monica and Josey. Can I come round now and get this out of the way, please?”

“Alright, come on round.”

“No need,” Sandy jumped easily over the fence.

“I think we had better go inside, don’t you?” Rachel suggested.

Sandy looked around, but there was no one about.

“You can do it out here in the garden if you like,” Sandy offered.

“No, we’d better go inside, just in case someone sees.”

“Fair enough.”

Sandy led the way through the kitchen door and into Rachel’s lounge. “Would you like me to close the front curtains before you start?” she asked.

“Yes, good idea,” Rachel said, still flustered by this opportunity to spank someone that had suddenly presented itself. The prospect of dishing out a punishment both excited her and frightened her.

Sandy quickly drew the curtains with a theatrical swish.

“Where would you like me?” Sandy asked.

Rachel wasn’t sure. She hesitated, and Sandy picked up on that straight away.

“I know you are not allowed to use corporal punishment in school, miss, but have you never spanked anyone before?”

“Actually, I felt a few when I was younger, but no, I have never actually done it to anyone before.”

Sandy smiled at the sudden blush on Rachel’s face.

“There’s nothing to it, really. Would you like me to bend over the table, across the arm of your sofa, or maybe over your knee?”

Rachel had always assumed, if she did ever spank anyone, she would do it over her knee, and had never considered any other option. In school, though, she had seen several slipperings applied where the recipient bent across a school desk.

“I think over my knee would be best, don’t you?” Rachel finally suggested.

“Makes no difference to me, Miss. Over your knee, you’ll take my full weight. Over the arm of the sofa, I can stretch out and be in a good position.”

“How about the sofa then?” Rachel said.

The sofa was a large 4-seater. Sandy took three paces forward and kicked off her flip flops before turning to face Rachel. Then, to Rachel’s astonishment, Sandy reached under her short dress, hooked her thumbs into her panties and pulled them down. She saw Rachel’s eyes widen.

Sandy smiled and said, “Dad always spanks me on my panties. Modesty! Mum always spanks my bare bottom. I took my panties down out of habit. I can pull them back up if you prefer.”

“No, just get over the arm of the sofa,” Rachel said.

Sandy thought that being spanked in this laying-down sort of position would be more comfortable and more dignified than lying over her mum or dad’s knee, or that of a teacher at school.

Rachel got to her feet and, looking down, observed Sandy’s long tanned legs disappearing under her blue sun dress which showed off her young figure well. Rachel placed her right hand softly on Sandy’s cloth-covered bottom and could feel how soft it felt even through the material.

“Hold tight!” she said.

Rachel lifted her hand and brought it down firmly but not really hard on Sandy’s right bum cheek, making a crisp ‘smack’ as it did so. She raised her hand again and smack on the other side. Sandy made no sound. In school, most pupils ouched and made some other noise after a couple of spanks, but she persisted. Four more spanks landed, and again made a good sound. The effects rippled out over Sandy’s entire bottom, but seemed to be making little real impact. After four more spanks, there was still little or no response.

Rachel now decided it was time to take the next step. She took hold of the hem of Sandy’s dress to pull it up, mainly so she could see what effect she was having. Sandy raised her hips slightly, allowing the dress to come right up. Rachel could see her handiwork was certainly having an effect, because Sandy’s bum was turning a blotchy red colour.

Rachel resumed the spanking, and now the thin fabric was out of the way, a much more familiar flesh-on-flesh sound that Rachel remembered from her own teenage years could be heard. Sandy was starting to wriggle just a tiny bit and once or twice Rachel thought she heard a slight intake of breath as her hand hit home.

Eventually, after a few minutes, Rachel decided that was probably how long a spanking needed to last. She stopped and rested her hand on Sandy’s now red and sore bottom.

“Alright Sandy, I think that is enough for your punishment. Don’t make me have to do this again!” Rachel tried to sound sincere, but she failed. She might not have got any real pleasure out of spanking Sandy, but she would certainly be willing to do it again if genuinely needed.

She pulled the dress back over Sandy’s bottom for modesty, but she need not have bothered. As Sandy stood up, she put her panties back on and carefully pulled them up. Despite her lack of response during her spanking, her bottom was quite sore.

“Considering that was apparently your first time, you certainly made your mark, miss!”

Sandy lifted her dress again and pulled her panties away from her bottom, bending away from Rachel.

“You want more of the same?” joked Rachel.

“No. not today, thank you, Rachel”

Sandy opened the curtains and gave her bottom another quick rub. “If we are finished, am I alright to get off to the cinema, Rachel?”

“Sure, have a good time. I hope they have soft seats.” Rachel quipped.

“They don’t, but don’t worry, I’m made of strong stuff!” Sandy smiled back and left.

The End

© Jo Green 2022