A newly qualified teacher worries about using the slipper

By Jo Green

It was Annette Jarratt’s first day at St George’s School for Girls in a commuter town just outside Leeds. She had graduated in biological sciences at Cambridge with a first class degree, having taken a gap year to explore the world and her soul. So, just before her 24th birthday, Annette arrived fresh from her teacher training year and had done well in the interview for a vacant position at St Georges during the summer of 1979. She got the post. The start of September was always a busy time in any school, but especially so for someone new to the profession. She had spent the last two weeks familiarising herself with the job, the school and the syllabus. It was a different exam board to the one Annette had studied for A level, but not that different really.

Term was due to start on Monday, and on the Friday afternoon before, Annette was sat in the headmistress’s office, the office of Mrs Nicola Twamley. Nicola was a very friendly lady in her early to mid-fifties and had been headmistress for 8 years after the sudden death of her predecessor whilst on holiday in the Caribbean. She had been deputy headmistress for 10 years before that. About 5 feet 10 inches tall and slightly built, Nicola had shoulder-length, quite grey hair and had that certain something Annette couldn’t quite put her finger on. A sort of aura exuding confidence and authority which you instinctively knew not to mess with. To her staff, though, she liked to be known by her first name, especially out of earshot of the students.

By contrast, Annette was 5 feet 4 inches in her stockinged feet, very slightly built, but was blessed with a healthy size bosom, a cute bottom and such deep blue eyes men found they would love to swim in. However, Annette had a bad relationship at university and was currently very much single by choice.

During the interview process, Annette was told that the school had a robust disciplinary regime, nothing unusual for the late 1970s. Indeed, at Annette’s school, erring students were often sent to the headmistress or head of year to get their bottoms spanked, slippered or, on the odd occasion, whacked with the cane. Annette had never felt the wrath of her teachers but had had her mum’s hand applied to her bottom or legs on a few rare occasions. Now sat facing the headmistress, Annette was being taken through some of the finer points of the school system.

“Nicola,” Annette interrupted. “When I was interviewed, you impressed upon me the robust disciplinary reputation of the school. May I ask, please, to whom do I need to send any girl who I feel needs putting in her place or has broken one of the school rules?”

The headmistress had just taken a sip of tea and almost choked upon hearing the question. She cleared her throat.

“I think you have misunderstood, my dear,” Nicola responded when she could once again speak clearly. “It is very much up to the class teacher to be the first line of defence in the battle to keep control. However, if you feel a girl needs a taste of the cane, send them to me and I will gladly assist.

“I presumed, like at my old school, class teachers would be authorised to set lines or detentions and the like, but refer the girls onwards if, er, more robust action was needed,” Annette questioned.

“I am sorry you got the wrong impression, Annette,” Nicola explained. “As a class teacher, you have the authority of course to put girls in detention or give lines for the most minor of infractions; a late homework, not paying attention in class, for instance. However, for a more serious rule infringement such as breaking the uniform code, disrespect, constant disruptive behaviour, regular homework issues or fighting, then it is up to you to spank or slipper the girl as appropriate.”

“How about if I watch you punish someone first and then I will try?” Annette proffered.

“Balderdash! Just bring the first one to me and you can deal with her whilst I supervise,” Nicola said sternly.

Annette agreed, fearing she might incur the headmistress’s wrath if she questioned further.

Annette’s first day passed quickly, as did the weekend. On Sunday night, however, she tossed and turned in bed, worried about her first day as a real teacher. She had done well in classroom sessions in teacher training college, but the regular teacher was always there to deal with any problems. Tomorrow, she was on her own and beginning to wish she had gone into the pharmaceutical industry like most of her cohort at Cambridge. Eventually, at about 3.00 am, she drifted into a fitful sleep before being awoken at 6.45 by her alarm clock.

Showered and fed, she arrived at the school at 7.45 for her first encounter with her form class; 2nd formers. The bell rang, the form trouped in and Annette introduced herself.

“Good morning, I am Miss Jarratt and I am your new form teacher. We’ll start with the register. Tammy Aimes?”

Annette’s nerves started to settle as she completed the register.

“Now, before you all rush off to your first lesson, girls, you’ll be needing one of these.” Annette waved at a pile of timetables ” Take one and pass them on. Your first class is chemistry with Mrs Porter in lab 2. Now go quietly off to your class. I have you for biology last lesson of the day, so I’ll see you then. Enjoy your first day back.”

The class all filed out quietly. Success! Annette congratulated herself as her first class filed in; a 4th form group.

“Good morning, I am Miss Jarratt and I will be your biology teacher for the next two years,” she announced with unexpected confidence.

Glancing down she looked at the sheet provided for each class, a simple A4 sheet with names and photographs of each pupil to help the staff learn the student’s

“So this is the start of your 2 year ‘O’ level course. Last year, everyone passed and 80% got A or B grade. We know that’s not good enough, so let’s try and make that 90% or even better,” she said enthusiastically.

She was met with silence. The class was clearly not impressed.

“We are going to start the course with simple cell structures,” Annette continued. “Please turn to page 82 in the textbooks on your desks. A simple plant or animal cell all have certain common features.”

Annette was into the lesson and it went really well. She asked the pupils questions, they got a few ideas going backwards and forwards, and all too soon the bell went.

“OK, that’s it for this morning. Read pages 85 to 102 from your textbooks for our next class on Thursday when I will be doing a quick test to see what you have or have not understood.”

No sooner had they left than the lower sixth class filed in. Immediately, Annette identified Penny and Jade as they sat together near the back of the class.

“Good morning, I am Miss Jarratt, and I will be working with you for the next 2 years as we work towards your ‘A’ level exams.”

Penny interrupted by raising her hand and asking, “Please, Miss Barrett, what happened to Mrs Franklin? We liked her.”

“The name is Jarratt, and Mrs Franklin left to look after her sick mother in Brighton, where she is teaching part-time, I believe,” Annette said quite curtly. “So, let’s make a start. Your A level textbook is on your desk. This is yours to keep and take home, but make sure you bring it into every lesson.”

Jade’s hand shot up. “Miss, this is so heavy. How are we supposed to carry that about? I’ll do my back in, miss,” she said smugly, and the class giggled.

“For £10, you can buy a copy to leave at home and leave this copy at school, if you wish, Jade. Now, turn to page 15. We are starting the course today with photosynthesis in green plants.”

The whole class groaned. To be fair, it was not Annette’s favourite part of the course either, which was a good reason to get it out of the way first.

The first 20 minutes seemed to be going well. Annette drew some cell structures on the board and asked the girls to come up one at a time and label parts. She would then ask what the purpose of that structure was. Again, this was going well, but then Annette could hear whispers as she was facing the board, which would stop as she turned to look. She instinctively knew it was Penny and Jade, but could not prove it, so she carried on, as did the whispers.

“Jade, Penny, please stop the chatter. Do that in your own time, please,” Annette said pointedly.

“What chatter, miss? It wasn’t us, miss,” Penny said.

“Be quiet or I will move you to the front of the class, Penny!” said Annette, hoping this made a good impression on the class.

Next thing, she could hear the sound of pencils dropping and being picked up. Now Annette was getting angry, but she tried to ignore it. Coughing followed as the two tried to push their luck.

“Jade, Penny!”

At that very moment, the door opened and in came Mrs Twamley. Annette was worried she herself had been caught out.

“Miss Jarratt, I see you have met our two class clowns, Jade and Penny. I was standing at the door window and saw Penny repeatedly dropping her pencil, clearly to annoy you, Miss Jarratt. You all know Miss Jarratt is a newly qualified teacher. She achieved a first class degree from Cambridge and chose to devote her talents to the world of teaching. We are jolly lucky to have secured her services. So, you will treat her with the respect she deserves.

“Penny, report to me at the end of the lesson. Miss Jarratt, if you could accompany her, that would be very much appreciated. In the meantime, please carry on, Miss Jarratt. You have made an excellent start this morning. If you feel anyone else needs to come with you, by the way, do feel free to bring them along.”

Mrs Twamley then left the room and closed the door behind her.

“Now, class, where were we?” Annette continued. “Penny, what is the name and purpose of this?” She deliberately picked Penny next to see what she would do.

Penny trudged to the front of the class, labelled the nuclear membrane, and explained, “It keeps the guts of the cell in one place and stops them all drifting apart.”

Penny then turned and went back to her desk in a sulk.

The rest of the lesson went smoothly, more so than Annette could have dreamed. As the bell went, everyone packed away their now heavier bags.

“Penny, you are going nowhere except with me to Mrs Twamley’s office. Get your things and come with me.”

Minutes later, the pair were standing outside the headmistress’s office and Annette rapped gently on the door.

“Come in please,” came the friendly response from within. “Ah, Miss Jarratt, and Penny, of course. So, Penny, you didn’t even get through your first morning without getting into trouble. That’s a first, even for you.”

Turning to the newly qualified young teacher, Mrs Twamley continued.

“This, Miss Jarratt, is for you to keep.”

She handed Annette a small black book.

“Here, you will record each and every time you hand out any form of corporal punishment. Enter the date, time, name and form, what the punishment was for, and what punishment was given.”

Penny stood slightly nervously, not knowing quite what was happening. Standing around 5 feet 6 inches tall, in her regulation uniform of white blouse, grey pleated skirt that should be no higher than 3″ above the knee, white socks and patent black shoes, she kept moving her weight from one foot to the other. There was just one obvious deviation from the proper uniform; she had wound the waist band of her skirt up several times to shorten it so it was actually more like 6” above knee-level. She had not had a chance to unwind it before they reached the headmistress’s office.

“Stand still, girl! Stop fidgeting,” Nicola announced. “Now, Miss Jarratt, let’s fill in the book and get this out of the way, shall we? What do you think is appropriate?”

“That’s just it. I am not sure.” Annette’s response was hesitant to say the least.

“How about we start with say a dozen smacks with the hand applied over her skirt? See how that goes?” Nicola suggested.

“Certainly, Mrs Twamley,” came Annette’s reply, though the strength in her voice hid her nervousness.

“Now, you can get the girl to bend over and touch her toes or grab her ankles or legs but that can make them unstable, especially if you give them a good whacking, so most teachers either get them to bend over a desk or the back of a chair. However, since this is your first time, I suggest that you try putting her over your knee and spanking her. You can’t do a lot of harm that way.”

“Miss!” Penny protested. “I’m seventeen. That’s so childish.”

Mrs Twamley smiled. “Yes, it’s true I would usually only recommend a spanking for the younger girls, but since Penny’s behaviour was quite childish, the idea does have a certain merit, perhaps.”

Annette looked at Penny. The seventeen-year-old appeared incredulous, unable to believe what was about to be done to her.

“Miss Jarratt, fetch that chair and place it in the centre of the room.” Mrs Twamley pointed to a straight-backed chair to one side of her office. “Penny, I suggest you adjust your skirt so it is the correct length.”

As the sixth form girl unwound the waistband of her grey uniform skirt, Annette picked up the chair and placed it in the middle of the carpet, ahead of the headmistress’s desk.

“Is here okay, Mrs Twamley?”

“Perfect, Miss Jarratt.” As Annette stood behind the chair, one hand on the top rail, Mrs Twamley grinned and said, “You’ll need to sit on it, Miss Jarratt.”

As Annette sat down and waited, she was conscious of Penny glaring at her.

“Penny, you know what you have to do,” Mrs Twamley said, seemingly very pleased with herself.

Penny slowly approached the seated young teacher, standing to her right-hand side and still glaring in a manner that Annette couldn’t decide was arrogant or fearful.

“Come along, Miss Jarratt, take Penny’s arm and pull her across your lap. You might as well cooperate, Penny. The sooner you get in position, the sooner you’ll be out of here.”

The seventeen-year-old placed a hand on Annette’s upper thigh to help ease herself down across the waiting lap, which made Annette feel somewhat uncomfortable. Soon, the girl was lying face down across the young teacher’s lap and staring down at the carpet.

“Of course, you may feel Penny’s behaviour warrants the lifting of her skirt and a spanking across the seat of her knickers, Miss Jarratt,” Mrs Twamley said.

Immediately, Penny looked back in horror at the young teacher.

Annette suddenly felt uncomfortably hot.

“I, um, don’t think that will be necessary, Mrs Twamley,” Annette replied, much to Penny’s relief. “Not on this occasion.”

“As you wish, Miss Jarratt.” The headmistress sounded disappointed. “Carry on, Miss Jarratt. A dozen spanks to the seat of Penny’s skirt, if you please.”

Taking a deep breath, Annette’s hand made a firm contact with Penny’s right buttock. Her hand stung, which surprised her. Penny jumped and made a sucking noise as she felt the spank reverberate. The second spank landed on the left buttock, which stung equally.

“Excellent, Miss Jarratt,” Nicola Twamley encouraged. “Do carry on.”

Annette was spanking with more confidence and moved the site of each spank slightly, trying to cover Penny’s entire bottom in well-aimed and surprisingly good hard spanks for a beginner. Ten, eleven, twelve. The last spank hit its target as firmly as the first.

“And that is all there is to it,” declared Mrs Twamley. “Help Penny to her feet, Miss Jarratt. We don’t want her falling off your lap and hurting herself. It’s just her bottom we want to feel uncomfortable.”

As Penny stood up, she gave her bottom a quick rub through the material of her pleated grey skirt and looked oddly at the young teacher.

“Don’t forget to make the entry in your punishment book, Miss Jarratt. You can do that when you have a spare moment.”

“Yes, Mrs Twamley.”

“Okay. Now I have work to do, so I suggest the pair of you get back to your classes.”

Outside the headmistress’s office, Penny walked with Annette along the corridor.

“Sorry about that, Penny,” Annette said as Penny gave her bottom another rub. “I was expecting Mrs Twamley to give you a couple of whacks with a cane or something.”

“The cane?” Penny exclaimed. “We were only playing with you in class, you know. We didn’t mean to upset you or anything.”

“You didn’t upset me, Penny, more just annoyed me. I know you felt me spanking you like that was undignified.”

“Oh, don’t worry, miss. I’ll take a spanking from you any day if it means I don’t get the cane.”

“Really? Do you mean that?”

Penny just smiled.

On the following Wednesday, Annette was teaching the upper sixth. It was usually a well-behaved class of just 7 girls. It was their second lesson with Annette and they were dissecting earthworms in what was the last lesson of the afternoon. However, there seemed to be an issue, not with the lesson but between two friends; Mandy and Janet. They had been exchanging angry looks all through the lesson. Eventually, it broke into some minor pushing and shoving. Because this was a science lab, there intrinsic dangers with this sort of aggressive behaviour. Annette shouted out to them and split them up by making them sit at opposite ends of adjacent benches.

Shortly afterwards, Annette had to leave the room to fetch copies of a hand-out the girls would need for their homework.

“I am just popping across the corridor. Carry on with your dissections whilst I get your homework assignments.”

Although the errand only took 3 or 4 minutes, when Annette returned, she found Janet pinned to the floor by Mandy sitting astride her and tugging at her long blond hair. The remaining 5 girls watched on in stunned silence. Janet’s skirt had been pulled up, giving Annette an unedifying view of the young lady’s panties. After a second or two, Annette instinctively dived in and pulled a squirming and squealing Mandy up from the floor. At the same moment, the door opened and Mrs Fitzpatrick from the next room appeared.

“Is everything alright in here, Miss Jarratt?” she asked with concern.

Fortunately for everyone concerned, whilst Mrs Fitzpatrick had heard the altercation, she had not seen the worst of it.

“Thank you for asking, Mrs Fitzpatrick,” Annette replied. “Yes, everything is under control.”

“Let me know if you need any assistance dealing with them, Miss Jarrratt. Mrs Twamley is off sick today, if you recall?”

“Thank you, Mrs Fitzpatrick, but I am sure I will be fine.”

When Mrs Fitzpatrick returned to her own room, Annette turned her attention back to the class.

She stared at Janet and Mandy and said sternly, “I don’t know what the problem is, girls, but I am not putting up with it. Stay where I have put you, and I will see you both at the end of the lesson.”

At the conclusion of the lesson some 15 minutes later, the other 5 girls quietly packed up their belongings and filed out while Janet and Mandy lingered awkwardly.

“Good luck!” one of their friends said as she left the room.

Annette wondered if it had been said to her, but quickly realised it was more likely said to the two girls.

With the door closed, the room was silent for some moments while Annette gathered her thoughts as she tidied her desk. Finally, she stood in front of the two sixth formers.

“So, who would like to explain what has just occurred?” Annette challenged.

Mandy began. “Janet has been seen messing around with my boyfriend, miss. I confronted her and, well, it got a bit out of hand.”

“I haven’t, Mandy! I haven’t been near your boyfriend!”

“Oh really? So, who was that boy you were kissing on the edge of the playing fields?”

“That was Martin, not your boyfriend. Honestly!”

“I don’t believe you!” snarled Mandy.

“Calm down, both of you,” cautioned Annette, sensing the row was beginning to flare up again. “Surely, all you need to do is ask this Martin if he was kissing Janet. If he says he was, then clearly your suspicions are unfounded, Mandy. Correct?”

“Yes, miss.” Mandy sighed.

“It really is a big misunderstanding, miss. I haven’t been near Mandy’s boyfriend. I honestly haven’t.” Janet looked at Mandy, who remained unconvinced. “Another girl in the lower sixth was trying to stir up trouble at lunchtime by telling Mandy I had been kissing her boyfriend. But it’s a complete lie. Honestly, it is.”

“That’s what you say,” Mandy retorted.

“Girls! It does seem you need to make enquiries of the boys concerned, but you need to do in your own time. Nothing excuses you fighting in the middle of my biology lesson, does it?”

“No, miss,” Janet immediately confirmed.

“I suppose not, miss,” Mandy offered rather more grudgingly.

“Good. At least we agree on that,” Annette said, looking at each girl in turn. “I cannot let this go, girls. You will have to receive a punishment. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.” Both girls replied reluctantly.

“As you both know, I’m new here, but I do believe Mrs Twamley told me the cane was more or less automatic for things like fighting. Unfortunately, Mrs Twamley is off sick, so I’m not sure quite how to proceed. I think we’ll have to wait until she returns and then you can be dealt with.”

“Some teachers would slipper us rather than take us to the headmistress,” Mandy suggested.

“Would they?” Annette wasn’t sure whether to believe Mandy. Was she telling the truth, or was she making it up to avoid being caned?

“Mandy is correct, miss,” Janet added, seeing the look of disbelief on the young teacher’s face. “Some teachers prefer not to involve the headmistress. They’re not allowed to cane us, so they give us a good slippering instead.”

“Unfortunately, I do not possess a slipper. Not yet, anyway. I’m sure Mrs Twamley has one, but in her absence I really don’t feel comfortable about entering her office. She might be back tomorrow, hopefully, so I’m afraid your spankings will have to wait until then.”

“Mrs Fitzpatrick has a slipper, miss,” Mandy suggested. “I’m sure she would loan it to you, miss.”

“That’s right, miss,” Janet confirmed. “She’s one who would most likely slipper us rather than take us to Mrs Twamley. She’ll confirm you’re allowed to do it.”

“This is all taking a while to get my head around, girls,” Annette replied. After a few moments thought, she added, “Alright, you seem determined for me to punish you. Wait here.”

Annette went across the corridor and knocked on the door, half-expecting no reply.

“Come in, come in,” Mrs Fitzpatrick shouted cheerily, seeing Annette at the door. “Did you sort those two out? Most unlike them. They are good friends usually. What was the problem?”

“Oh, boys! What else? One thought the other was playing with her boyfriend and it got out of hand. I thought fighting meant a visit to Nicola Twamley’s office, but these two are telling me it would be okay if I slippered them Is that true?”

“Yes, you can have Nicola sort them out, or you can do it yourself. But you can only slipper them. Nicola is the only person allowed to cane them. I would normally administer between 4 and 8 whacks, maybe 6 or 8 whacks for sixth formers.”

“The thing is, I don’t possess a slipper. I was kind of reliant on Nicola, but with her not being here today, I can’t go to her and ask to borrow one.”

“The girls wouldn’t thank you for involving the headmistress, that’s for sure.”

“Perhaps I ought to invest in a slipper?” suggested Annette.

“A good idea, I’d say. I find a size 7 or 8 plimsoll is perfect for the job. I don’t like having to brandish one about, but the girls will soon get to know you have one, and they’ll be more respectful.”

Annette smiled awkwardly.

“Here,” Mrs Fitzpatrick said, as she opened the bottom drawer of her desk. “Try mine out for size. Let me have it back in the morning. I’m off now. Don’t overthink things. Just be calm and professional. And you’ll be doing them a favour. Nicola would have caned them for fighting in class.”

“Thank you, I think!” Annette grimaced as she picked up the plimsoll and rubbed the crepe sole over the palm of her hand, gently smacking it onto her left palm. “Oh, that stings!” exclaimed Annette.

“That is rather the point, is it not?” Mrs Fitzpatrick said. “Now, I’m off. I suggest you do not keep the girls waiting longer than is necessary. Have a good evening.”

The two colleagues left the room. Mrs Fitzpatrick locked the door behind her and turned just long enough to say, “Good luck.”

Annette went back to her own science room. Closing her door behind her, and turning the lock, Annette stood facing the two girls, holding the borrowed plimsoll in her right hand.

“Very well girls, as you requested, I have borrowed this from Mrs Fitzpatrick. She has gone for the afternoon now, so is in no rush for me to return it to her,” Annette said with the slight implication this could take as long as was needed.

“Don’t forget you have to record it in your punishment book, Miss,” Janet proffered helpfully.

“Thank you, Janet, I was just about to.”

Annette opened her drawer, took out the black book, opened it to the first page, and started making her first ever entries. Using the first two lines, she wrote:

Janet Maxwell

 Mandy Bradshaw

When it came to entering the number of strokes, Annette paused and chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully.

“I reckon Mrs Twamley would have given you at least four strokes of the cane for fighting, wouldn’t she?” Annette asked without looking at either girl. “So, perhaps the same with the slipper?”

The two girls looked at each other. Mandy struggled to stifle a smile.

“That’s, um, very fair, Miss,” Janet replied.

“I’m being too generous, aren’t I, girls?” Annette said, having seen both their reactions.

Janet nodded slowly, aware of Mandy’s eyes looking at her.

“Honestly, Miss, Mrs Twamley would have caned us six times, I reckon, maybe eight times if we’d been in trouble before, which we haven’t. We’d have expected six strokes.”

“Thank you for being so honest, Janet. Perhaps, because you’ve been so honest with me, I’ll keep your punishment at four whacks each. Just this one time, mind!”

Janet smiled, and Annette entered four strokes with slipper against both their names.

Mandy bit her lower lip. “While we’re being honest, Miss.” She paused and looked at her companion.

“Yes, Mandy?”

“Um, it’s just that if Mrs Twamley had caned us, she’d have done it across our knickers.”

“Oh,” Annette was just about to add across seat of skirt to the entries. “Oh, I hadn’t given that a moment’s thought.”

Mandy and Janet looked at each other, and Janet nodded.

“Miss, you’re being very fair with us and, bearing in mind Mrs Twamley will no doubt be inspecting your punishment book, it’s probably better for all of us if she doesn’t see you being too lenient with us.”

“True. So, what are you suggesting, Mandy?”

“Maybe alter the four to a five and add across knickers to your entry?”

“Of course, you could enter that and just whack us across our skirts, Miss,” Janet said hopefully.

Annette smiled. “I could, Janet, but I’m not going to. It’s five whacks each across the seat of your pants.” She completed entering the details, then put her pen down.

“Shall we get ready, Miss?” Janet asked, her voice faltering.

“Why not?” Annette answered, as she returned her punishment book to the top drawer of her desk. She took hold of the slipper she’d been loaned and patted it against the palm of her hand, then sat back and watched as the two girls slowly unfastened and removed their uniform grey pleated skirts. Both girls now stood in white uniform blouses and white knickers.

“If you could just tuck your blouses up at the back, please girls,” Annette added, beginning now to relax. Now, who wants to go first?”

The two girls hesitated. They both looked back at the young teacher and shrugged.

“Whose name did you put in the book first, Miss?” Mandy asked.

“Janet’s name.”

“Then I guess I should go first, Miss,” Janet suggested, giving Mandy a half-smile half-grimace.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Annette got up and went round to the front of her desk. She pushed a few papers to one side, leaving the centre of the desk clear.

“You probably know what to do better than I do,” Annette said as Janet hovered.

Janet immediately moved to Annette’s side and bent across the vacant desk She rested her forearms on the hard wooden surface and pushed her bottom back.

“Can you just tuck your blouse up a bit higher, Janet? It’s slightly covering your bottom.”

“You might need to help her, Miss,” Mandy said from behind. “You can tuck it under her bra strap. That should keep it out of the way.”

“Oh! May I?” Annette asked Janet.

“You may,” Janet replied, and felt the young teacher’s clumsy hands adjusted her blouse up out of the way.

Annette now had a clear view of the sixth form girl’s well rounded bottom, most of which was covered by her white knickers, all except the lower portions. She gripped the borrowed plimsoll firmly in her right hand and positioned herself behind the waiting girl. She felt awkward as she took aim.

“We are doing this today, are we, Miss?” Janet said cheekily as she waited.

“Bloody cheek!” Instinctively, Annette swept the plimsoll down from shoulder height and smacked it soundly across Janet’s bottom.

“Ow!”

“Good!” Annette exclaimed as she brought the slipper down firmly for a second time.

Gripping the plimsoll as though her life depended on it, Annette raised it elbow high and brought it crashing down across Janet’s right buttock. It made a loud ‘whop’ sound as the crepe sole made painful contact. Five or six seconds later, she delivered a similar stroke to Janet’s left buttock. It drew a sharp intake of breath from the girl lying across the desk.

Annette knew she had just one more stroke to deliver to this girl. The ‘whop’ sound seemed almost deafening as the plimsoll slammed into the lower centre of Janet’s backside.

“Ouchh!”

Annette stood back. Janet remained across the desk. An electric silence swept through the room.

“Can she get up now, Miss?” Mandy asked quietly. “There’s no rush.”

“Oh, sorry! Yes, of course you can get up, Janet.”

Janet responded by easing herself up and immediately placing both hands on the seat of her white knickers. She rubbed gently.

“Wow! That stung!”

“I’m sorry,” Annette replied hastily. “I hope I haven’t hurt you!”

Janet laughed. “Only my bottom, Miss, and you were supposed to hurt me there!”

“Oh, yes, well you know what I mean.”

“I think so, Miss.” The girl laughed again. “That was a pretty good whacking for a first attempt. That was your first, wasn’t it Miss?”

“Yes, it was.”

Annette felt confused. Surely, girls weren’t supposed to offer praise to a person who had just walloped their bottoms? Did it really mean she hadn’t smacked Janet sufficiently hard? Or was the girl simply being honest? Annette decided she preferred the final option.

“Can I put my skirt back on, Miss?” Janet asked.

“Pardon? Oh, yes, of course.”

Annette saw the two girls exchange smiles, but didn’t understand what they found amusing. She watched Janet as the girl stepped into her grey pleated skirt and started to re-fasten it around her waist.

“You haven’t forgotten Mandy, have you Miss?” Janet asked, blushing slightly from knowing the young teacher was watching her get dressed.

“Damn! Almost got away with it!” Mandy grinned as she began unfastening her own skirt.

It took less than a minute for Mandy to strip off her grey uniform skirt and place it on a nearby desk. She managed to push her own blouse right up her back and let Janet tuck it securely in her bra strap.

“Ready, Miss,” Mandy said as she came across to the teacher’s desk. She stood smoothing her knickers across her bottom.

“Same as for Janet, please Mandy. Bend over the desk.”

“You’re getting the hang of it now, Miss,” Mandy commented as she bent herself over the desk, rested her forearms on the surface and thrust her bottom out.

“You girls don’t seem that bothered about me whacking you?” Annette queried.

“It’s a lot less scary than appearing before Mrs Twamley, so you’re doing us a bit of a favour by slippering us,” Mandy answered.

“And we did break the no-fighting rule, Miss,” Janet added. “So, we can’t say we don’t deserve to get our bottoms smacked.”

“Okay,” Annette said, gripping the plimsoll. “Hold steady, Mandy.”

Mandy braced herself just in time. The young teacher slammed the plimsoll down quite hard and the ‘whop’ sound reverberated around the room, while the girl took a sharp intake breath.

Annette aimed the second stroke towards the left side of the girl’s bottom. It seemed to hit even more firmly, although again Mandy remained almost silent. She showed a similar lack of response to the next stroke, which landed more to the right side. The final two strokes arrived quite quickly, both hitting the lower centre of Mandy’s backside.

“Oooww!!”

Mandy immediately got up from the desk and started rubbing her bottom.

“That hurt, Miss!”

Sorry, was that too hard?” Annette responded. “I tried to make it the same as Janet got.”

“Don’t worry, Miss. She can take it,” Janet said.

“Do you mind!” Mandy retorted. “I bet my bottom is quite red now!”

As if to demonstrate, she stood facing the desk and eased her white knickers down before trying to twist around and survey the effects of the slippering.

“Actually, yes, it does look pretty red,” Janet commented. “I bet mine is the same.”

Janet began to unfasten her skirt for the second time.

“Hold on!” Annette said. “If you two girls want to check each other’s bums, you can do it in the toilets in your own time.”

“Sorry, Miss.” Janet replied.

“And you, Mandy, pull your pants up and get dressed.” Annette remained looking at Mandy’s bared bottom until she pulled her knickers back up and started replacing her skirt.

“Sorry, Miss.”

“Very well, ladies, you may leave and go home. Please do not make it necessary for me to repeat that exercise again!” Annette said with feeling.

“No, Miss. Sorry, Miss,” they said in chorus.

Annette put the plimsoll in her drawer with the punishment book for safekeeping until tomorrow, when she could return it to Mrs Fitzpatrick.

Hours later, lying in bed, Annette thought about the events of that afternoon as she drifted off to sleep. Her worries surrounding having to use corporal punishment had proved largely unfounded, and she made a mental note to purchase her own plimsoll that weekend.

The End

© Jo Green 2022