Community spirit gets a girl into trouble.
By Joanna Jones
Graham Jenkins, Harry Vance and Mike Drake were having their weekly drink in The King’s Head on Saturday evening. Usually they had an unwritten rule not to talk about work, and particularly the pupils they taught, although it was not always followed. However, tonight there was a good reason to ignore their self-imposed guidance, as they had just found out that one girl they all taught at some point during the week was going to be “Miss Yatterton”.
Yatterton was not a large town and there was no beauty pageant or any such event. All that was involved was turning up at various events held during the town’s annual fair week, celebrating its acquisition of a town charter by one of the King George’s. Which one, they could not remember, though it was no doubt the one whose head decorated the sign on the pub outside.
Being in late April and with traditionally an age of eighteen or nineteen, the girl selected by some highly opaque mechanism, at least to them, was usually a local lass who had already left school. Most upper sixth girls would consider themselves too busy with looming A-level exams to consider the role, but then Annette Harrison was exceptional in many ways.
Exceptionally bright was the first. She was the sort of girl who really did not need to do much revision, yet still managed to get the top mark in her subject in the year. She was always a fixture at the school prize-giving.
Exceptionally well behaved, yet popular with her peers at the same time, was the second. In general she was a pleasure to teach and managed to very adeptly walk the tightrope between being regarded as a good classmate and not a ‘pet’, whilst most certainly being many teachers’ favourite pupil in her year. It did not harm her that she also was a gifted hockey player too.
Then thirdly there was ‘exceptionally good looking’. She was about 5 foot 9 or 10 inches tall, with a perfect “hour glass” figure, blessed with perfectly proportioned legs, and strong blonde hair and a face to complement her body, with a seemingly perfect relaxed smile on it most of the time.
In short, when handing out attributes, Annette Harrison had been dealt a very good hand indeed.
That evening it was those physical attributes that may well have been key to her becoming the fair queen, that were being discussed between the three already fairly ‘happy’ men.
It was when Harry lamented the lack of an opportunity to see Annette in a swimsuit, or better still bikini, during the fair festivities that the conversation rather lowered itself.
Mike was the one to comment shortly later: “Well if you want a better look at her legs, then find some excuse to give her the slipper. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind a better look too for that matter!” He gave a ribald laugh.
Graham said, “Come on, I doubt that girl has ever had her bum warmed. She never would give you a reason.”
Mike’s reply was: “Oh, you come on, you know one can always find a reason if you really want to. ‘You girl, not paying attention! I’ve had enough of this in this class. Out here right now, I am going to make an example of you! Skirt up!’ And there you are; one pair of Miss Yatterton’s legs on full display with her school knickers waiting for that slipper of yours.”
Graham gave a mild, rather dismissive, laugh, but Harry looked at his friend in surprise, considering his outburst thoughtfully.
Mike continued: “Of course it might be better to wait a few weeks until after Easter. Most of the girls seem to take that as the beginning of summer and usually switch from tights to bare legs and ankle socks.
Harry was beginning to wonder. “You know we are supposed to give no homework for the fair week, but that never applies to the upper sixth. I wonder if our new Miss Yatterton has managed to plan that in. Do you think she will have time for everything?”
Mike looked at him. “You’re not serious are you? I was just joking, you know!”
Harry looked at him. “Oh, come on, are you not a bit tempted? Think of it as giving Annette the opportunity to get a ‘parting gift’, the chance to feel the effects of a good slippering before she leaves. What say you Graham? You were the one who said she’d probably never felt the slipper in her school career.”
Graham paused before answering. “Well I don’t know. It’s tempting, but I don’t think we should deliberately set her, or for that matter any girl, up. What are you suggesting?”
“We just all set our upper sixth some extra time consuming homework as preparation and revision for the exams, and then see what happens.”
Graham pondered for a moment then said: “Okay, why not, it will do some good to get them focussing for the exams in any case.”
Harry looked at Mike questioningly.
Finally he acquiesced. “Oh alright then, let’s see which one, if any, of us she falls down on, though I expect it will be others who struggle, there are quite a few who need to buck up if they are to get what they are capable of in their exams in any case.”
Harry then upped the ante slightly. “And let’s say the first to get her over the desk gets an extra round from the other two.”
Both Mike and Graham shrugged. Mike replied: “Alright, but the same day counts as a dead heat.”
With that agreed, the three men went on to discuss other things.
A few weeks later, soon after Easter, Harry Vance was finishing his history lesson. “Right class,” he said. We have a good few weeks to the exams and I want to get a feel for everyone’s strengths and weaknesses to see what we should be concentrating on in the final push. I have a sheet of essay questions here which I want you to finish for next Monday.”
The class groaned, and sure enough one hand went up. “But it is the fair week next week, Mr Vance!
“Indeed Frank, but you are in the upper sixth and your A-levels are now very close! You need to get your priorities right this year, young man!”
Meanwhile Annette Harrison had groaned inwardly. As ‘Miss Yatterton’ she had meetings every evening this week with various rehearsals and preparations. When accepting the role she had rather assumed the usual school rule about no fair week homework would apply. However, hopefully she could fit it in.
By Wednesday evening she was beginning to panic. Quite a few teachers had decided to get them started on serious revision with homework, and in addition to Mr Vance (one of her French teachers) her two history teachers, Mr Jenkins and Mr Drake, had both given them all huge amounts too. What was worse, all three had set the same deadline of Monday!
She was just not getting the time to get it done, especially as she was out every evening. Tonight it was the final fitting of her dress, and a few ladies were coming to help her accessorise it. She knew she would be hard pushed to escape early.
As expected she failed miserably in escaping from the middle-aged woman who clucked around her to ensure everything about her outfit would be perfect. Thus on Thursday in desperation she went to Mr Drake, who she found the most approachable of the three who had given her these huge exercises and begged for an extension. She was very relieved he gave her till Friday.
While Mike was happy to go along with his two colleagues, he was not going to make exceptions to his general rule of showing flexibility to someone who asked for help with a genuine reason in advance.
She managed to do all the smaller items by the weekend, but the Fair activities occupied all of Saturday and good chunks of Sunday too. Sometime after two-thirty in the morning she collapsed into bed having made some attempt at Mr Jenkins’ exercises, but only something that was barely usable for Mr Vance’s homework. At least she had something to hand in to both of them.
She intended to get up at six thirty to work on a bit to improve what she had for Mr Vance but she was so tired that she managed to reset her alarm and fall immediately back to sleep.
She was eventually woken by her mother shaking her. “Annette, it’s after eight o’clock, get up! You’re going to be late!”
Annette woke with a shock. She still felt exhausted. Nevertheless she was up immediately and dived into the shower. It was a tight battle, but she was out the house by half past and, with a trot most of the way, eating a slice or two of plain bread for breakfast as she did so, she arrived at school just on time.
She gave her hair another brush and hoped after drying it rather too quickly that morning it would be okay when it was made up for the afternoon and evening’s events. Her dress was being taken to the community centre and there were a couple of ladies who would help her with dressing, put on some light make up, the accessories etc. She had been given permission to be picked up by one of those ladies from school early at two-thirty and she was supposed to pay a visit to some fancy dress party for playgroup children at three, followed by an hour from four at the pensioners’ whist drive, so it would all be very tight.
First lesson after registration was Mr Vance’s French class. Annette pulled out her text and notebook, then froze. Where was her homework!
Desperately she searched her bag, pulling everything out, searching in the jotters, but it was not there. As she sat up defeated she realised; it was still on her desk at home waiting for her to do that extra bit more on it that morning. For the first time ever, she’d forgotten her homework!
Mr Vance was now going round collecting that homework and nearly at her desk.
As he approached Annette took a deep breath. “I am sorry, I seem to have misplaced my homework sir. Harry Vance was surprised, he’d rather expected her to have done it, though perhaps badly enough he could make an issue of it. This was too easy.
“Annette, I am very disappointed and surprised at you, go and wait at the front of the class.”
She knew what that meant! “Oh, please sir, I have just been a bit overloaded, it is done, I just left it in my desk last night.”
Harry looked at the girl seriously. “I am sorry, but you know my rules, now I suggest you do what you are told, and not make it any worse for yourself.”
Annette had to fight back a sniff as she rose and walked to stand next to the teacher’s desk. She was blushing furiously. Despite the men’s comments in the pub, the actuality was that she had been slippered before, but only in the junior years by Miss Orwell, the games mistress, who was well known for ‘doing’ the whole of a class when the mood took her. This would be her first individual offence, though, and first time to get it in front of both boys and girls.
Mr Vance put the collected homework on his desk and the pulled his plimsoll out of his drawer.
“Right Annette, I know this is not like you, and you have a bit extra on, but that is no real excuse; we are talking about your A-levels here! I will let you off with just two.”
Annette felt a modicum of relief in her nerves at only two. Quite a few teachers had an automatic six for the fairly rare occasion a sixth former fell sufficiently foul of their rules.
However, that changed to shock as Mr Vance said: “Right, skirt up and bend over!”
“Please sir!” She exclaimed, going bright red with embarrassment at the prospect of having to lift her skirt. She knew he was technically within his rights, but she was not a little first or second year. Many teachers may have chosen to give a minimum six to a sixth former but very few employed the one layer rule to such senior pupils.
“Now, Miss Harrison. I have been very lenient in awarding only two, don’t try my patience!”
Annette looked around the class, saw the faces. She was glad that there were only two boys in the French class to ogle at her bottom. Blushing away a tear that was pricking her eye she slowly faced away from the class, lifted her skirt and, keeping her legs tight together, bent over to await her two stinging blows.
In doing so she revealed not the school regulation brown pants, but a rather fetching white lacy pair.
Harry Vance looked in shock. His immediate private reaction was, wow he’d hit the jackpot. He was looking at those well formed legs which led up to panties that were really far too daring for school, even if there had not been a strict uniform policy.
Outwardly it was, for Harry, a different story. “Annette Harrison, stand up this instant. What is the meaning of that underwear you are wearing?”
Annette went pale as she stood, skirt falling back for the moment at least. Normally she religiously wore the uniform brown, unlike many of her friends. However, vanity had got the better of her. Knowing she would be changing into her Miss Yatterton dress in front of two women her mother’s age later she had decided not to today, and was actually wearing a garment that matched the bra she had on. However, she could not explain all that to Mr Vance, and certainly not in front of the whole class!
She found she could do nothing but give an embarrassed apology.
Mr Vance was unsympathetic and announced his decision; one he’d made the moment those rather sexy knickers had come into view. “Four extra! Now get back in position.” He said firmly.
Annette looked at him horrified, but finally with a sniff gave way and, hitching her skirt back up, bent over once again. It could have been worse; she knew there were teachers who automatically sent a girl to Miss Bardwell, the austere assistant head who dealt out canings to the young ladies sent to her.
This time Harry took his time to admire the sight in front of him, before lining the large gym shoe that served as his “slipper” across the target.
He did not hold back. Annette, unused to much corporal punishment, and certainly not any in the past three years or so gave a gasp at the sting.
Three more solid thwacks later and Annette found she was really struggling not to squeal.
On the fifth she gave a small wail and bit her lip hard to try and stop a further tear tracing out onto her cheek.
The final one was the hardest and a second yelp escaped as she stood and tried to brush her skirt down without looking too dishevelled.
After some final admonishment from Mr Vance, she sat carefully on her seat and tried to concentrate on her lesson. However, it was a forlorn effort. She was in too much shock for much to sink in.
She was very glad when the bell went and she was able to escape to the corridor, though with two classes before the interval it was only as far as Mr Jenkins’ history class.
At least she had her homework with her this time!
Having handed it in at the beginning she was getting on with a class exercise when Mr Jenkins started wandering around the room, with comments on each girl’s and boy’s homework. She was shocked as she heard Brian being told off for lack of effort. He was asked if he did not know how close the exams were. Then he was told perhaps he needed a sharp reminder! With that, the order came to go stand at the front. Her bottom was beginning to ache in anticipation as another boy and her friend Jenny subsequently joined him.
All too soon he came up to her. “Annette, this work is not like you, and half the questions are hardly answered! This would not even get you a ‘C’ in the exam, and you are supposed to be aiming for an ‘A’!”
She gave him an apology, saying she really had been overloaded with things. Mr Jenkins’ reply was sympathetic, but he still told her to join the others at the front.
There were no others, and the four found themselves all fidgeting nervously as Mr Jenkins told them off again for their lack of effort. These exams were critical to their futures he said. Annette felt sick as he awarded them four each.
When he told Brian to drop his trousers she felt worse. The twinges from her first spanking were playing on her awareness as she watched the two boys get four each on their white cotton Y-fronts, then Jenny yelped her way though her four, applied firmly to her brown knickers.
Annette was having difficulty not crying as she obeyed the order to get ready, looking at the white sports shoe that Mr Jenkins had in his hand.
Graham Jenkins gave a gasp of surprise as she raised her skirt once again that morning, both at the much more revealing underwear, and the red marks that adorned the exposed lower cheeks that the underwear singularly failed to cover. Clearly Mr Vance had got there before him!
“Those are not school pants Miss Harrison.” Intimated the teacher.
“Please Mr Jenkins, Mr Vance has punished me for that already.” Annette replied rather desperately.
“Two slipperings in one day! This is not like you at all Annette. Very well I was going to give you four extra for those immodest undergarments, but instead I’ll give you two for the disgrace in being slippered twice in one day!”
Six again, thought Annette, her bottom was aching as it waited in her bent over pose. She should have been mortified given this time seven males were in the class of fifteen. Those males were getting a very good look at her legs and more importantly her rather adventurous underwear.
It was a view that Graham Jenkins was enjoying too. She really did have a great pair of pins, and those knickers tapering into her waist really set it off.
However, he had a job to do.
Poor Annette squealed. Being slippered on an already spanked bum was much more painful!
Desperately she tried to control herself, but it was too difficult not to stop the tears falling this time. She did manage not to actually scream, but she still squealed and yelped on each blow.
Perfunctorily passed a tissue by Mr Jenkins, she staggered back to her seat, not knowing really whether to use her hands to wipe her eyes or try to rub her now very sore bottom. Twelve of the slipper in one day! How much worse could it get?
Fortunately after the interval she had a free period and her English lesson with Mrs Smith. While she still was more than aware of the ache in her bottom, at least she managed to sit and do some work in the former, and concentrate on the points made in the latter. Mrs Smith did have to warn her to concentrate, but given she was normally so well behaved thankfully did not make any big issue of it.
Her close friends were at least outwardly sympathetic, though one or two were secretly rather amused that she had, after so many years, finally got a couple of spankings. Most of them had rarely managed a school year without bending over at some point, at least until they had entered the sixth form when the use of the slipper was rarer.
The boys were a different story. Those that had had the good fortune to be in the classrooms had of course regaled their friends with the account. Not all girls were sympathetic either, and there were one or two barbed comments that she had to put up with. The worst was from Marie Edinson, who was rather bitchy at the best of times. She was the first to use the term, “Miss Knickerton” as she rather cruelly enquired about the state of her rear end at Lunch. Unfortunately that nickname was one that she was to find hard to lose over the next few weeks.
After that lunch-break she was relieved she only had Mr Drake and then she could escape. She was also feeling somewhat calmed down from her experiences that morning, though the dull ache in her rear persisted, still reminding her of her slipperings.
Annette was very relieved she did not need to hand in any homework as the others did, with Mr Drake just reminding her to be on time later in the week. They then set to work.
Mike had seen Annette come in and heard of course what had happened that morning. She clearly was still not herself, of course somewhat upset as a result. He decided he was not going to try to create an opportunity to get a slippering in. A couple of extra rounds at the pub was hardly going to break the bank and his conscience was pricking at him as it was.
So it should have been that Annette’s tribulations were over. However, after lunch, the late night, no doubt with the stress of the morning, caught up with her. Annette found herself catching her head as it fell forwards a couple of times as Mr Drake explained a few key points they should remember about 18th century politics. The next thing she remembered was being shaken awake by a rather angry teacher.
“Annette Harrison, how dare you snooze off in my class! You clearly need something to wake yourself up!”
Michael Drake was genuinely angry. While he had determined not to go out of his way to create a slippering as his two colleagues had not doubt done, nobody except nobody could expect to start snoring in his class and not suffer the consequences.
Annette realised what had happened as Mr Drake dragged her out of her seat. Realised what was going to happen. “Oh, please Mr Drake,” she begged.
It of course made no difference. Mr Drake awarded her six, told her she was lucky not to be getting eight, and of course also insisted on her getting her skirt up. He saw the bruises of his two colleagues’ efforts on the lower parts of her buttocks, and to Annette’s relief said he was exceptionally not going to make an issue of her choice of underwear, this time!
There was a sudden pause by the teacher. “Marie Edinson, I heard what you said. Stand up. I shall deal with you shortly.”
Marie’s whispered comment to her neighbour that Miss Knickerton was going to get it again had been overheard, though not by Annette as she waited sickly for her third slippering of the day.
Mr Drake’s thick plastic soled ‘slipper’ soon landed with a hard thwack on poor Annette’s bottom. This time she screeched as the pain from the morning was reactivated. She burst into tears immediately,
Mr Drake was known for his strong arm. Five further blistering blows to that scantily clad rear had Annette’s legs lewdly writhing from side to side. This time she was also unable to maintain enough composure to remember to keep her legs together too, giving both Mr Drake and most of the class a good view of the gusset of her pants stretched over her most private area. More than one of the seven ‘history boys’ found themselves aware of a stiffening in their own bodies as they watched their classmate suffer.
Finally it was over. Annette’s bottom was now on fire, stinging agony as a result of its spankings. Her face was a mess. Mr Drake just gave her the box of tissues as he told her to sit down.
He then turned to Marie, who did not look quite her usual cocky self now.
“I dislike pupils who think other people’s troubles are amusing. It is bad enough in a younger pupil, but in a sixth form student it is utterly appalling behaviour. I am going to give you a full eight. Out to the front and get your skirt up!”
Marie gave a squeak of horror as she heard her punishment intimated. However, slowly she went out to the desk and, hitching her skirt, bent over. She too revealed not her brown uniform pants, but a bottom clad in thin pastel pink cotton. Marie had long since thought the regulation brown things were something to be avoided.
Mr Drake looked at the target grimly. “Stay like that for a minute.” He ordered.
With that he told the class to get on with a practice question he had set, and went to his desk. After reading some of their homework he then wrote a note.
Poor Marie was mortified as she waited for over five minutes for her slippering with her bottom displayed to the class. However, worse was to follow.
“Right Miss Edinson, stand up.” He ordered.
Marie’s relief was brief as the teacher continued. “Take this note to Miss Bardwell, right now.”
Marie’s jaw dropped and the tears started immediately. Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Mr Drake pointed out she was already at the maximum with the slipper so he could not deal with her uniform infraction.
Miserably she left praying the assistant head might be in a rare lenient mood.
Annette had no problem remaining awake, though very little of what Mr Drake said on the final quarter of an hour of the lesson went in as she shuffled from side to side on her seat.
She did remember Marie being escorted back to class by the assistant head in floods of tears, and unable to stop holding her backside. After miserably apologizing to the class, and being forced to intimate that she had got six strokes (standard for a sixth former) she was told to stand facing the board with her skirt up, showing her pants, with a couple of angry red lines from the lowest of those six whacks visible around the edges.
It was less hard than Annette thought to feel sorry for her partner in pain. However, in truth she was still too miserable herself to feel that much for the tearful girl standing at the front as Mr Drake concluded the lesson.
Desperately glad she was finished with school for the day Annette Harrison got to the car where Mrs Samuels looked quite shocked at her red eyes.
There was no point trying to hide what had happened as both her and Mrs Granger had to help wash the worst of the red eyes and tears away for her, and try to cheer her up to be smiling for the afternoon and evening events. Both looked sympathetically at the blotchy red bruises visible below the cut of her knickers. Annette was acutely aware of their looks and miserably embarrassed. Perhaps wearing those brown ones would have been the better choice after all!
Annette soon found having fun with the carefree young children. It gave her a way to forget the earlier tribulations, or at least put them into context, though bending down to join in with them always gave her a sharp ache to remind her of her unpleasant school day.
At the whist drive one old lady was sufficiently perceptive to guess the state of her bottom. Annette found herself embarrassed as the woman sympathised with her, though glad teachers of her time were clearly somewhat less severe than the elderly lady had had sixty odd years before.
It was near the end of the event that Annette was surprised, and actually a little nervous, to see the Headmaster standing at the back watching her.
What Annette had not known was that Mrs Samuels, who was a stalwart of the Yatterton fair week committee, had phoned the headmaster while she was in the playgroup party and given him a fearful tongue lashing about her getting such a severe set of slipperings, all for reasons that could be justifiably related to her fair duties. Was the school not proud of her efforts for the community?
The Head had come to reassure Annette that she had the school’s support. He had spoken to her teachers and she was now exempt from any homework deadline till next week and had no requirement to attend school, nor to wear uniform if she did come in, given her commitments. All he would say about her punishments was that they seemed to have been very unfortunate.
On Friday the three men of course sat in the pub, and compared notes. All were privately glad that the Head would never know the truth behind that Monday’s events, especially after his quiet word with each of her teachers, including them, on Monday after the final school bell. It had been followed by a memo round on Tuesday morning to all teachers to remind them of Annette Harrison’s commitments to the community and to make full allowance on homework, attendance and uniform. None of them were of course due to buy extra rounds, but they all confessed to having found Annette’s slipperings rather stimulating, and rather naively hoped Miss Harrison would remember their ‘parting gifts’ as an ‘experience’ that was in someway beneficial.
Annette never felt that, though she never felt a grudge, always thinking she had just been plain unlucky, and that the teachers had been just doing their jobs. She never of course found the truth about their ‘parting gifts’ to her, or more accurately her involuntary ‘parting gifts’ to them, a truth that would have no doubt led to her view being very, very different.
© Joanna Jones 2013