A schoolgirl has a bad idea
By Jo Green
I was a sixth former at the local High School for girls. I had my fair share of ups and downs at school, and I was no stranger to detentions and also corporal punishment. Back in those days, all of the teachers used their hands to spank the girls, even the few male teachers we had. Some also had a plimsoll they would use on the bottoms of particularly unruly or otherwise naughty pupils.
Our uniform was a maroon cardigan and matching pleated skirt with a white blouse, and black flat shoes. Unlike many schools, underwear was not governed by the school rules, and we could wear what we liked except in PE where gym knickers had to be worn.
One day, I had gotten into trouble at school. I talked back to my teacher quite rudely. She decided to make an example of me so she had me across her lap and gave me 6 with her plimsoll on my knickers.
When pupils had been put in detention or spanked in some way, a form was sent home stating the circumstances and the sanction applied. This had to be signed by a parent or guardian and taken into school the next school morning. Failure to do so would earn an automatic detention.
When I got home, I gave the slip to mum. As I had been so rude, I expected her to give me another whacking. To be honest, I probably deserved it. Six whacks was the most teachers could apply with the slipper. My mum was angry, but rather than spank me twice for the same offence, she stopped my pocket money for 2 weeks.
I would rather have had the spanking! I was a teenager and wanted the latest magazines etc. The latest edition of goodness knows what magazine was out, and all my friends had a copy. I felt completely left out. I even asked my mum if she would spank me as I really needed my pocket money. Of course, that made her even more determined that the action she had taken was right as it was clearly having the desired effect.
If there has ever been a time in my life that I actually wanted my mum to spank me, this was definitely it. Since she would not play ball, I had to resort to plan B.
On that Friday evening, I went home about 1/2 mile outside our area as I knew there was a small newsagents there. I would just have to steal a copy of the magazine I wanted. Needless to say, it did not go to plan at all.
After a quick look around, I tucked the magazine inside my school jacket and headed for the door via the counter, where I used my last few pennies to buy a chew. As I reached the door, a hand, small yet with a firm grip, latched onto my shoulder and stopped me dead in my tracks.
“So, you thought you would steal from me, did you?” the small middle-aged lady who owned the shop said in a very accusing way.
She was wearing a blue mid-calf dress with a bright blue housecoat over the top, a head scarf and black, flat shoes. I tried to bluff my way out of it, but she reached inside my jacket and retrieved the magazine, which was slightly crumpled by now.
I said, “I am very, very sorry. I have never done anything like this before.”
I begged her not to call the police, because I thought that was surely what she was about to do. She had other ideas.
“Oh, I am not going to call the police, young lady! You are not going to get away with a telling-off from a constable or a clip around the ear.”
She slipped the catch on the door and closed the sign to ‘closed’.
“No, you are going to get exactly what every young thief deserves!” she said coldly. “You are going to get a good old-fashioned spanking, young lady!”
She held my shoulder and pushed me forwards the back room which was a small sitting room. Once there, she wasted no time in plonking her ample bottom onto a straight-back chair and pulling me across her well-padded lap, leaving my face a few inches from cold brown tiles and my hands and feet taking much of my weight. I felt my school cardigan pulled sharply upwards, followed a second or two later by my maroon pleated uniform skirt. The cool air in the room chilled my thighs and legs, but I did not notice that for long as very quickly she brought her hand slapping down on my bright white panties, which were all that covered my bottom now.
She was only small, but boy, did that first blow sting! I suspect she was well-practiced in the ways of spanking as, within a few spanks, my bottom was on fire and I was bawling like a first former being punished for the first time. The pain was very intense and the spanks continued to rain down for 2 or 3 more minutes before she eventually finished my punishment.
By now, tears were running down my cheeks and splashing like a dripping tap onto the tiles inches from my face.
“Now get up, get out, and never come into my shop again or you will get more of the same!” she promised.
Needless to say, I never did darken her door again. Thankfully, she had no idea who I was. She knew my school, obviously, from the uniform, but not the form or my name. I left the shop with a very sore bum, a red face and no magazine. I got exactly what I deserved though.
If the school had found out, I would no doubt have been booked for a visit to the headmistress.
© Jo Green 2022