Over The Desk Spanking Stories

Extenuating circumstances mean a special punishment.

By Jane Fairweather

“Oh, not again!” Miss Carson snapped. “Why does Clarice Edmonds need all these advanced music lessons? It is not as if there are that many job openings for female cellists in the year of our lord, Nineteen Hundred and Twenty-Five.”

“Headmistress,” Jo Bell replied. “It is obvious to me every time I hear her play that Clarice has very real talent, and her father seems very willing to put her through the Royal College of Music when we have finished with her here. I think we should be doing everything we can to support her.”

“On the contrary, it is a total waste of money!” Miss Carson snarled. “Clarice Edmonds is a pretty young flibbertigibbet, who will rapidly end up flat on her back with some penniless husband, producing rather too many babies. I have seen it all before. And is Thursday evening through to Sunday evening really necessary? It seems a very long time for a few music lessons. I thought these lamentable visits to her teacher usually went from Friday evening till Saturday evening and she stayed with her Aunt in town on Friday so as to be fresh for the lesson on Saturday.”
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Not getting up in time causes a problem

By Jane Fairweather

“Violet, what are you doing? You’ve barely time to catch the bus, let alone have breakfast! Just take a piece of toast with you.”

“You should have got me up, Mother, and not waited for me to come down.”

Violet Evans did not like to admit she had in fact been finishing her essay on the Outbreak of the English Civil War for the formidable Miss Taylor and had only just achieved it.

“Really, Violet, you ought to be capable of getting yourself up now you are a Grammar School Sixth Former, and Upper Sixth at that. Now get off with you. Or you will be late and having to explain yourself to Miss Chapple! And if you get the cane for it you will be spanked; your father and I have always said that if you misbehave at school you will be punished at home for it.”
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Two girls and a school secretary learn honesty is the best policy.

By Jane Fairweather

A game of Pirates was in full swing in the Lower Sixth PE lesson and, judging by the exuberant noises, most of the girls were thoroughly enjoying it, prancing round wildly up and down beams and ropes and wall bars and across benches, some trying to catch and some trying to get away. All the girls were in the prescribed white tops, but somehow most of them had ignored the rules about what to wear on their bottoms, and the mixture of rather inelegant blue shorts, stylish gym knickers, which was what they were supposed to be wearing, and what were undoubtedly school knickers, was not very aesthetic. Alison Holt in particular was wearing a rather faded rust red pair of old school knickers that were extremely tight on her and showed far too much. Alison always aggravated her PE mistress; she was so full of herself and she had a plump bottom that always seemed to beg for someone to send a springy length of bamboo swishing into it.
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A girl is required to move to a new school

By Jane Fairweather

The door to the Headmistress’s study opened.

“Mr Smyth and Jennifer.” The School Secretary announced, ushering in a man in a grey suit who looked rather old to be a father, and a tall girl with red hair and a green dress. As she got up from the three neatly arranged armchairs at the side of the room to greet her visitors, Miss Burton caught a glimpse of the girl’s bottom through her dress. Long and narrow buttocks, she noted with approval, but had the girl got a slip on? If she hadn’t, it suggested a certain lack of attention to the normally accepted, but then again maybe the light was going through the thin dress on this very bright August day.
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An argument between a boy and girl escalates

By Jane Fairweather

“Heh! Stop tickling me, you ass!” Miranda Sheen protested vigorously to her friend, Michael Anson, as they fooled about in the grass at the edge of the playing fields on a hot June day in 1964. They were not exactly boyfriend and girlfriend, but they had been firm friends since Primary School and she felt that this tickling game went that bit too far, because it seemed to be pushing their relationship in a more physical direction than she wanted. Maybe one day they would make passionate love, but something told her that she never was going to feel that way about Michael. This was a brother and sister style of relationship and very good as long as it stayed that way. And anyway, to tickle her when she only had on her summer dress, a thin cotton vest and her bra and pants and no slip seemed grossly unfair; apart from anything else he was getting to feel more of her than she liked.
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Jealousy leads to trouble, a longer version of the previously published story

By Jane Fairweather

“I see you have a basket of canes in your room. I am just wondering why, when I understood that Mr Thomas caned the boys for Miss Simpkins? Oh, he must have left it when he retired. He and Miss Simpkins retired at the same time, of course.”

The new headmaster, Mr Mitchell, glanced a trifle quizzically at his deputy, Miss Grant, who he had inherited from his predecessor. They were having a cup of tea together in her room by way of getting to know one another.

“Miss Simpkins always took the view that if one of our girls behaved as badly as one of our boys, then she should suffer the same punishment.” Miss Grant replied. “She always said that girls and boys should be treated equally and it was almost an insult to the girls not to whack them as so many schools do, because they are supposedly the weaker sex, and I must say I do agree with her.”
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A childish prank leads to problems

By Jane Fairweather

“You have got the mouse?” Meg Bates enquired, just a touch nervously, just before the Upper Sixth French lesson.

She had not been quite sure that her friend would go through with the prank.

“Yes, of course I have!” Amelia responded. “It’s time someone took Jenks down a peg. And it’s a lovely way to do it, no one will ever guess whose mouse it was; and I am a bit bored with Simon anyway. It’s such a fag keeping him hidden from the teachers. With luck he will run off and be free and never be seen again.”
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A normally quiet girl has her moment of fame

By Jane Fairweather

The whistle went and the eleven players of the First Hockey Eleven of the Winifred Long School for girls gave a collective shriek of joy that they had at long last beaten St Agatha’s, who were by far the best of the teams in the unofficial league that all the local girls schools played in. Then, by some wild instinct, ten of the eleven hurled themselves upon the slight, shy figure of Josh Stephenson, whose brilliant run down the wing from half way just two minutes before, had won a match during which Winifred Long had been penned remorselessly in their own half.
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