Sarah’s College Spanking

College and being away from home leads Sarah astray, until Matron steps in.

By Sarah G

Apart from a painful and embarrassing weekend with her English teacher, Miss Calvert, (see ‘Sarah’s Sixth Form Spanking’) Sarah’s experience of school discipline had been confined to lines and detentions, and she had certainly not been given any physical punishments at school, and indeed she had lived in some dread at the very thought. Her fantasies about spanking did not include being walloped by her dragon of a headmistress! She had, of course, been spanked on several occasions by her mum, but that was different. Something did happen, however, when she was nineteen and a college student, that taught her the true meaning of corporal punishment.

College life was certainly an eye-opening revelation for Sarah, as this was the first time that she had lived away from home and away from the disciplined boundaries laid down by her mother and her school. This is, of course, the same for many youngsters, and how they deal with their new freedoms varies considerably. Unfortunately Sarah did not cope well, and her behaviour rapidly deteriorated. Pubs and clubs soon became more normal for her than her previous dedication to study. She fell into a routine of late nights and lazy weekends, at times even allowing herself to skip lectures – something unheard of in her earlier life. Despite the best efforts of her tutor and other staff members she carried on this road to disaster. Like a child let free in a sweet shop she simply couldn’t control herself.

One person that was particularly concerned was her college Matron, who felt that the welfare of all the students was her responsibility, and who had become more and more concerned about the deterioration in Sarah’s attitude, appearance and behaviour as the year progressed. She had done her very best to try to engage with the girl, yet after several cosy chats over a cup of tea she had failed to make any headway.

It was, therefore, hardly surprising that she failed her first year exams. She had, however, been allowed to return to re-sit them in the summer vacation. Her college was officially closed during the vacation, but as Matron was in residence she was willing to put up with the occasional boarder in such circumstances.

Sarah, therefore, stayed in Matron’s quarters for the four nights that she was away. Matron was a well built, not unattractive lady, about fifty years old, born in Scotland, and proud of it. She was often perceived as being a bit of a tough nut, but it was generally thought her bark was worse than her bite, and that her apparently hard exterior probably covered a soft inside.

Although willing to accommodate students during summer, she would rather not, and only did so on the understanding that all her rules were strictly obeyed. In bed by eleven, lights out by eleven thirty, no smoking, and other such quite reasonable edicts. It was also understood that if the rules were broken then she was under no obligation to house you.

Sarah spent her first night revising in her room; the knock on her door shortly before eleven-thirty reminded her of the curfew, although it was the short, stern voice of Matron twenty minutes later that persuaded her to turn the light out.

The subject was mentioned briefly at breakfast, and she was reminded of the house rules, and warned that no further transgressions would be allowed. Her apology for her behaviour the previous night appeared to close the subject.

Matron, however, was not readily convinced that despite the shock of failing her exams, Sarah had actually learnt her lesson, and that this was possibly the last opportunity she would have to correct the girl’s wayward attitude. She knew where her duty lay, and planned accordingly.

That night Sarah decided to relax, and went out to meet some old friends for a drink. She just managed to be back indoors a minute before being locked out. She went upstairs, aware of the none too friendly response from Matron as she said good night, and got ready for bed. Once in her thin and short summer pyjamas, she decided to read for a while as she didn’t feel at all sleepy, and her next exam wasn’t until the afternoon.

She looked at her alarm clock as the sharp knock on the door disturbed her – just before midnight, trouble again, better turn the light out, she thought. Before she could do so the door opened and in walked Matron.

“Come with me,” she ordered, and something about her voice made Sarah obey without question. She followed Matron across the corridor to another room, this one very barely furnished with a tall cupboard against one wall, a single bed against the other, and between the two a wooden straight backed chair and a high stool with a circular padded seat.

“You were warned last night, and have disobeyed me again tonight. Have you anything to say?” She asked.

“How about sorry?” Sarah rather flippantly replied.

Matron fixed her eye on the student, and held her return stare for several seconds before saying: “Aye, you will be, young lady. You will be.”

With that she went over to the cupboard, and from it took out a leather strap. It was about eighteen inches long, with two tongues cut into the end; it was also clearly well used. Sarah at once recognised it from her fantasies; a tawse, and there was no doubt about its intended victim. Sarah was mesmerised, at last she was about to find out what it’s like to be given a really good hiding.

“I warned you that I would stand no nonsense,” said Matron. “Now you’re going to find out that I meant it. You have one simple choice, you either accept my punishment here and now, or you leave college first thing in the morning. And don’t try to be clever. You’re in serious trouble and I don’t care how old and grown up you think you are, if you wish to stay you’re going to feel this strap across your bottom. Now what’s it to be?”

Having no choice, and in any case quite excited by the prospect, Sarah told Matron she would take the punishment that, deep down, she thought she probably deserved, and expected to be given two or maybe even three whacks with the strap.

“Well you won’t be the first silly student to have been in this position, and I’m sure you won’t be the last. Now have you ever been thrashed before?”

“Not really Matron,” she replied weakly.

“What do you mean ‘not really’?” She retorted. “Either you have or you haven’t. Now, what about at school?”

Sarah admitted that she had not been physically punished during any part of her education (not, of course, mentioning the spanking that she had been given by Miss Calvert, which wasn’t strictly speaking ‘at school’).

“At home then?” She continued.

“Well yes, I’ve been spanked, but not with anything like that.” She explained.

“So how were you punished?”

The student, now red faced with embarrassment, realised she would have to admit her most private secrets to the older woman, because it was quite clear that she had no intention of letting her off the hook.

“Well,” she began quietly before Matrons sharp voice ordered her to speak up.

“Well, if I’ve been really naughty I’ll probably be sent up to my bedroom by mummy. Then about ten minutes later she’ll come up, sit on the edge of my bed, tell me off and then make me bend over her knee, and spank me on either my knickers or sometimes my bare bottom with her hand or slipper, depending on what I’ve done.

Matron listened intently, and then asked: “When was the last time?”

Sarah had guessed that question was coming, but even so the answer almost stuck in her throat. “About four months ago, Matron, during the Easter holidays.” (See ‘Maternal Discipline’)

The woman did not look at all surprised or shocked. She was, after all, about to tan the girl’s nineteen year old backside.

“Tell me about it,” she ordered.

“Do I have to Matron? It’s really embarrassing.” Sarah replied hopefully.

“Yes, you do young lady, so please get on with it.”

Sarah knew she had no option, so she explained to Matron how she had stayed out very late one Saturday night without telling her mother where she was. The next day she was sent up to her room, where mum joined her. She was made to remove her jeans, and then mum sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her down across her knee. Once in position her panties were then unceremoniously pulled down, and mum gave her 36 hard smacks on her bare bottom, two for each year of her age.

“Well Sarah, from what you say you certainly deserved it, and if anything I’d say that your mum was a little lenient. However, back to the present, as you will have realised I intend to skelp you with my trusty, and I assure you well used, tawse. As it’s your first time you may keep your pyjamas on, although it’s only your dignity that they’ll save. Now bend over the stool,” she commanded.

Without argument Sarah adopted the classic pose, toes touching the floor, bottom high in the air, arms uselessly dangling in front.

“When I make rules, you will obey them. Is that understood? Now hold on to the bar between the two legs, and don’t dare let go until I’ve finished.”

“Yes Matron,” she replied. “How many whacks am I going to get?”

Matron paused. “Well,” she eventually replied. “Since you think you’re so clever and so grown up I’ll give you one for each year of your age. So by my reckoning you’re in for nineteen of the very best!”

“WHAT!!”

Sarah’s spirits immediately sank. No longer did the anticipated punishment fascinate her; she was clearly in for a very rough ride indeed.

Without further warning the first stroke whistled down and struck squarely across her very scantily covered buttocks. After bending completely over, the short pyjamas had already ridden up into the crack of her bottom, leaving each cheek almost completely exposed. The initial wave of pain caused Sarah to gasp, but the searing aftershock burnt her sensitive backside like a branding iron.

Almost immediately the second and third blows found their target, leaving the complete surface area of both buttocks in agony. There was a short pause as Matron shifted her stance, and the student regained her breath as the true impact of the pain registered in her brain. All she could think of was how much more she would be able to take; another sixteen of those would be impossible. Already Sarah was in floods of tears and sobbing heavily.

Matron knew her business, and meted out the next half a dozen with less severity, but ensuring that the strap found a slightly different target at every swat.

“Almost half way there,” she said dispassionately. “Perhaps you’re now beginning to realise that my rules are made to be kept, and not disregarded by ill-mannered, self-centred spoilt brats like you!”

“Please Matron, I’ve learnt my lesson, please let me off. I promise never to break any more rules, please.” Sarah begged for her torment to end simply because the pain inflicted by nine well aimed strokes of the tawse was greater than she could ever have imagined, and, she wrongly thought, as much as she could take.

“Nineteen I said, and nineteen I meant, so stop grovelling and take it like an adult, if that’s at all possible.”

With that, Matron issued the tenth whack, and in doing so ensured that every ounce of her not inconsiderable strength went into it. The result was immediate and dramatic. For the first time in the punishment Sarah screamed out loud with a penetrating yelp coming out of her pain contorted face. At the same time her body convulsed involuntarily, her bottom and legs rearing like a bucking bronco, her hands gripping the bar until her knuckles were white. Then, as her body subsided onto the padded seat, Matron planted number eleven with equal severity. Again her body squirmed, but this time as she half screamed the constant flow of heavy tears continued to course down her cheeks, so that after the continued agony of number twelve she was sobbing like a four year old and pleading pathetically for mercy.

Matron knew now that the girl had now learnt her lesson, and that the memory of the pain, when added to her humiliation, should serve as a deterrent to her for the rest of her college life. At the same time she was not willing to go back on her word, and was resolved that Sarah would take her allotted punishment in full.

The next four strokes were quite noticeably gentler, and rather than creating new agony simply reinforced the work already done, and kept the fire now strongly burning kindled.

For her finale, however, Matron decided on a slightly different tactic, and each of the last three blows was aimed just below the buttocks, and found their targets on the soft defenceless flesh at the back of Sarah’s legs.

Once again the effect was dramatic, and as the centre of torture moved from the relative comfort of her well punished bottom the pain level on the previously untouched, and extremely sensitive new area, so that the howl of pain that filled the room exceeded anything so far heard.

“Now stand up,” Matron ordered. “And face me.”

The pain caused by straightening her bruised buttocks was agonising, as bad almost as the punishment itself. By now, however, she was past caring, and stood in front of Matron, the tears still streaming down her face, sobbing so that her whole body shook, trying simultaneously to rub her badly abused bottom and wipe the tears away with her sleeve. Her humiliation complete, she was unable to look Matron in the face.

Matron then spoke. “Now go back to your room and wipe your eyes, and then wash your face. I’ll be along in half an hour to hear your apology.”

Matron was true to her word, and returned to Sarah’s room exactly thirty minutes later. Sarah stood in front of her very sheepishly, still crying, her head bowed in shame. Her cheeks and eyes were as red as her bottom, but this was from the extreme embarrassment that she felt at being reduced to such a state by the strict woman that she now had to face.

“So, young lady, what have you got to say for yourself?” Matron’s voice was now softer, the harsh tone of her previous anger gone.

Sarah raised her head before replying, her voice quavering as she attempted to hold back the tears that were still flowing.

“I’m extremely sorry for my behaviour,” she began. “I realise now that I was very ill-mannered and deserved the punishment that you gave me. I promise to be a very good girl and to try much harder in the future. I’m very, very sorry Matron.”

“Yes, I imagine you are, Sarah.” Matron replied. “And I hope that you’ve learned a very important lesson tonight. Hopefully you’re going to be here for another two years, so please remember that rules are made to be kept, and I don’t care how old you are, if you deliberately break any college rules I’ll not hesitate to tan your backside the way I’ve just done. So next time you want to misbehave just think back to how you feel now, and how you felt when you were bent over that stool like a ill-mannered, spoilt brat howling like a baby! Now that’s the end of the lecture, and as far as I’m concerned you’ve taken your punishment and now you’re forgiven. So, how’s your bottom?”

“Thank you Matron,” sobbed Sarah. “I promise you I have learnt my lesson and I won’t be back for more in a hurry. My bottom still feels as though its on fire. I’ve never known anything hurt as much.”

Matron smiled, but this time sympathetically. “I think I’d better take a little look, is that alright?”

“Yes Matron,” Sarah was in no mood to argue, and in any case felt as though she’d been totally humiliated already.

“Please lie face down on the bed,” she was instructed, and when Sarah was in that position Matron gently pulled the girl’s pyjama bottoms down, taking great care to ensure that she was spared any further discomfort. Then they were eased completely off the girl’s legs, leaving her naked from her waist down. Matron then folded back the pyjama jacket, leaving her very sore bottom completely exposed to the relative cool of the room. The reason for the soreness was immediately obvious; the criss cross of welts illuminating their effectiveness in varying shades of deep scarlet, the normally protected area indeed looked as though it was on fire. 

Matron frowned as she saw the painful result of her handiwork, but knew that it had been necessary.

“Just wait here a moment,” she said gently, and silently left the room. When she returned, minutes later, she had a frosted glass jar and a towel in her hand. “Lie still,” she said. “This will help.”

She sat on the bed next to the near naked student and, after sliding the towel underneath Sarah’s waist and thighs, opened the jar of cold cream. Taking a good dollop in her right hand, she then proceeded to ever so gently rub the soothing balm into Sarah’s badly abused bottom. The relief was instantaneous as the cool cream took effect, the gentle massaging fingers working in complete contrast to the harsh tattoo beaten by the leather strap. 

“Now put your pyjamas back on and get into to bed, and try to get a good night’s sleep.”

With those words, Matron left the room on the verge of tears, leaving Sarah alone and humiliated in the bedroom. 

The following morning not a word was said about the incident, and later in the day Sarah went off to sit the last of her examinations. She felt strangely elated for the whole day, and certainly tackled the exam questions with a previously unknown vigour, and was to pass with flying colours.

When she returned home after the exams, she wrote the following letter to Matron:

Dear Matron, 

I am writing to thank you for putting me up (or should that be putting up with me!) last week, and to let you know that I got home safely. 

The other thing I want to say is more difficult, because I would like to tell you how I feel about what happened last Thursday night. Obviously, I have had time to give it a lot of thought, so here goes. 

It’s hard to know where to start, so let me firstly say that I realise that I fully deserved everything I got, and that I am very grateful to you for teaching me a well deserved lesson. It was without doubt the most horrible experience of my life, not only because it was unbelievably painful, and I still have bruises on my bottom to prove it, but equally because it was totally humiliating. I thought that once I had left school and got to university I was too old and too grown up to be given a good hiding. I was wrong! I now know that I am still not too old, and certainly not too grown up. It was a lesson that I had to learn, and you taught it very effectively. 

Because coming to college was the first time that I had lived away from home, all of a sudden I found myself in an environment where I was free from the routines and disciplines of home and school life, and I suppose I went a little wild. Too much partying and clubbing, too many very late nights, not doing enough work, skipping lectures – the list goes on and on, and now I’m paying the price for being a very silly, very naughty girl, which is why I said that I fully deserved what you did to me. 

Looking back, however, and remembering one or two comments that you made to me over the past year, I think that you were aware of my unacceptable behaviour, and were very concerned about it. That’s why I now think you were so severe with me. The thrashing that you gave me was a punishment for my behaviour last year, and a warning that I must improve things if I get back to college in September, wasn’t it? After all, the punishment was way over the top for merely reading in bed for a little too long. I think the most that I deserved for that would have been a few embarrassing minutes bent over your knee having my bottom smacked. 

Whether or not I am correct, there’s something that I’d like to ask you. I hope you don’t feel this is going too far, but if I am allowed back to college for the next two years, I certainly don’t want to fall back into the bad habits that I picked up last year. Although I know the punishment you gave me will last in my memory for a very long time, it may well be that I slip back occasionally. What I am asking, therefore, is that you keep a motherly eye on me, and if you feel that I am not behaving as well as I should be, then perhaps you could take the appropriate action there and then? I would far rather be given a good spanking or even a slippering every so often, than one enormous thrashing when it’s too late. I hope that this is not asking too much, and would very much appreciate your assistance in helping me to grow up. 

Thank you very much once again. 

I hope to see you in September (or maybe hear from you before then?), but in the meantime, 

Lots of Love,

Sarah xxx

Matron replied as follows:

Dear Sarah, 

Thank you for kind and thoughtful letter, and of course for the beautiful bouquet of flowers that you sent me. I was very moved by them. 

You are quite right in thinking that the ‘skelping’ I gave you had nothing to do with reading in bed! It had everything to do with your atrocious behaviour during your first year here; behaviour that directly led to your failing the exams. I have no regret about what I did, only that perhaps I should have done it sooner. But that is now history, and hopefully will stay there. 

With regard to your request that I keep a ‘motherly’ eye on you in the future, of course I shall be delighted to do so. I do understand how difficult it can be for young girls to come away from home for the first time, and so I would love to be able to help you in any way I can. I would like you to see me as a close friend, someone that you can turn to with any problems or difficulties, a shoulder to cry on if you need one, and someone who’s door is always open for you with a cup of tea and a cuddle if that’s what you feel you need. In other words, somebody that will try to take over the role of your mother whilst you’re here. On the other hand, of course, we cannot ignore the disciplinary aspect of parenting, and although I hope with all my heart that you never have to feel the lash of my tawse again, be assured that I shall not hesitate to administer parental-style spankings if I think that you deserve them!! 

When (not if!) you come back to college in September, I suggest you come and see me early on, and we’ll discuss things over a nice cup of tea. 

But in the meantime, get along and enjoy the rest of your summer vacation. 

With love and best wishes 

Aileen McVee

(Matron and Acting Mum)

The End

© Sarah G 2015


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