Over The Desk Spanking Stories

A prefect is astonished to find herself in trouble and believes hersef innocent, until the facts emerge.

By Joanna Jones

Audrey Johnson sat quietly, feeling as bored as she normally did, at the back of the hall with her sixth form classmates as the assembly concluded. The Headmaster had just finished his school notices after his ‘message for the week’. As usual he then started on his ‘And finally’ section; his list of defaulters.

“And finally the following boys are to report to my office directly: Neville Marsh, 1C…”

A fairly tall first year boy, still in shorts, reluctantly stood in his place. A boy had to be in the third form before the privilege of long trousers was allowed at their grammar school.
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A prequel to ‘The Tuck-Shop Theft’ and ‘Head Girl?’. Two senior girls have a falling-out.

 By Joanna Jones

The prefects’ room was quite quiet as the bell went after the first morning period at St Joan’s, with only Emily Graeme remaining, on a double free-period, using one of the three or four desks in the small room to catch up with some work for her A-level French.

A couple of minutes later the door suddenly crashed open as Susan Fletcher stormed in, causing Emily to look up confused as Susan carried on to angrily approach her.

“What do you think you are doing, you bitch?” She demanded at a shocked Emily, who clearly had no idea what she was talking about.
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The next in the series. More from the Prefects’ Court and Amelia gets into trouble too.

By Joanna Jones

Half term was a quiet affair. Studying was the order of the day for me and, of course, Derek. However, with the pressure less on me than him, in the middle of the week I took the day off (sort of) to travel to his home town. I had a beautiful lunch with him, and this time his parents and little sister too, at which the invite for me to join them on the family holiday to Cornwall was made. While I needed to talk to my parents, that prospect was one I was very excited about.
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A girl regrets using offensive behaviour towards a teacher.

By Joanna Jones

Mr Roberts, our former headmaster, was someone I kept in touch with long after he retired. About ten years after his retirement we met up at a dinner and we got around to discussing corporal punishment, which, at the time of this story (in the late seventies), was showing the first signs that it may not survive for much longer. Of course, at the dinner in 1990 if I recall correctly, CP had indeed been phased out from government funded schools, and was rapidly diminishing in the private sector too. As a result of those policy changes, those ten years since Mr Roberts’ retirement had seen quite large changes indeed. Personally I was never sure for the better or worse, though now, as I look back (now indeed of course from my own retired state) perhaps indeed it was in the long term for the better, though it was not an easy change at the time.
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A headmaster’s inner thoughts when he deals with an errant pupil

By Joanna Jones

It is amazing, even now, so many years later, how many people think that somehow my role in life as Headmaster included whacking girls on their knickers. It was something that I never did. There is, to many, some sexual, erotic overtone that feeds the imagination that for them can never be replicated by any other form of punishment, other than of course the wholly unrealistic scenario of actually having those knickers somehow removed.

However, while I can see how the overt nature of such a punishment can stimulate, and for such reason it was banned for male teachers to apply such a sanction by the local education authority in my area, to say the alternative for girls at my school was not without its tension would be a fallacy. It’s a fact that makes me wonder whether I should have delegated the whole distasteful business of female punishments to a female member of staff much earlier than I did, only a couple of years before my retirement.
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An act of chivalry appears to land a boy in trouble while his girlfriend gets away with it.

By Joanna Jones

I staggered slowly out of the headmaster’s office, unable to stop myself clutching the back of my trousers, and barely able to hold in the tears that, despite my eighteen years, still threatened to escape my eyes.

Five minutes previously, I had been reluctantly unbuckling my belt and fly to reveal my plain white Y-fronts, then, trousers around ankles, that same white fabric had been stretched tight across my backside as I reluctantly bent over for six of Mr Gillespie’s very best. Senior cane for a senior boy, or so he said.
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A girl goes to the aid of her boyfriend and lands them both in trouble.

By Joanna Jones

“Hey Sally! Have you heard? Liam got whacked this morning!”

“What!?” I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at my friend, Frances, who had just caught up with me, having been in a different class just before the lunch break.

“Apparently he cycles to school and a car got a bit too close to him and nearly knocked him off. He let fly at the driver with a load of verbal abuse. Unfortunately Mr Arthurs was in the car behind.”

Fran paused, giving me a chance to guess the rest. Our Deputy Head was a stern man.
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The next in the series, and two girls experience the results of smoking in school

By Joanna Jones

Seventh in a series of stories where painful experiences, coupled with potentially worse sanctions in the future, lead to girls getting the impetus to give up tobacco, though in this case it is only partially successful.

Have I ever smoked in my life?

Well technically the answer must be yes, I suppose. I have in my entire life taken exactly one drag on a cigarette.

That drag was taken behind the bike shed (hardly novel but it was one of the places where those that smoked would go) in my girls’ grammar school. That single puff of tobacco led to ‘consequences’. Consequences that I recall here.
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