A young teacher ignores good advice. Another story from the archives

by Kenny Walters

“Never have favourites.” I can still hear my old mentor’s words even now, more than sixteen years since they were spoken and since I was let loose on the world as a fully qualified teacher. If only I had abided by such good advice!

It wasn’t as though Lorraine and Fiona were natural candidates to be my favourites; neither was particularly gifted in my A-level English class, although both would eventually struggle through their final exams. Nor were they particularly attractive girls; Lorraine was not especially pretty, and whilst far from overweight her figure suggested she was more of a hockey player than a sprint athlete. Her curly blonde hair was always cut short giving her an almost boyish appearance. Fiona, on the other hand, was slim and narrow hipped with reddish brown hair, well brushed and extending down to her shoulder blades, the front cropped in a neat fringe. Firm cheek bones betrayed her Scottish ancestry.

Perhaps it was their quiet, never challenging, always cooperative demeanour. Who knows? All I can say is that I looked forward to every class they were a member of, and felt pangs of disappointment whenever they were absent through illness or other cause.

Thus, when Lorraine and Fiona entered my classroom one evening after school had finished, and I was seated at my desk marking some English essays handed in to me that day, it was something of a welcome relief to look up and see them there.

“Good evening, girls, and to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Lorraine’s doubting frown suggested immediately that I might not be finding their presence quite so satisfying once they’d stated the reason for their visit. Fiona appeared sombre, but then she always did.

“Is there something wrong, girls?”

“We’re, sort of, in a spot of difficulty, miss.”

“A spot of difficulty? That sounds intriguing. What sort of difficulty, exactly?”

“Out of school without permission, miss.”

“You were playing truant, Lorraine?”

“Not exactly, miss. We had a free period after lunch today, so we went down to the local shop.”

“And what was available at the local shop that wasn’t available from the tuck shop, Lorraine?”

Lorraine looked hesitantly at Fiona. I noticed a faint nod in reply.

“Cigarettes, miss.”

“Cigarettes!” I heard my own voice practically shriek. “You went out of school without permission to buy cigarettes? And you got caught? I imagine you two are in big trouble with Mr Entwhistle.”

“Exactly, miss.”

“So, what do you want me to do, exactly?”

Lorraine glanced briefly at Fiona again, but this time all she got was a rather blank look in return.

“Well, I know we deserve our punishment, miss, but the way Mr Entwhistle does it is just so painful.”

“The cane usually is painful, Lorraine. That is its purpose. I take it that is what our esteemed headmaster is proposing to do to you.”

“Yes, miss. Six strokes each.”

“Six eh?” I looked up into Lorraine’s eyes and saw the fear etched into them. “That’s not such a bad deal you know, Lorraine. You could well have got six just for being caught in possession of smoking materials, let alone being caught out of bounds as well.”

“We know that, miss. The problem is Mr Entwhistle will give us three on each hand and that is just so painful.”

“I believe that is the object of the exercise, Lorraine. The fact that it is so painful will hopefully deter you from repeating the offence in the future.”

“We know, miss. But…”

Tears began to well up in Lorraine’s eyes as she struggled to find the words. I still wasn’t clear why they had come to me.

“So what exactly is it you want me to do, Lorraine?”

Yet another look towards Fiona preceded her next sentence. “We, er, were wondering whether you might be able to punish us instead, miss.”

“You want me to cane you?” I heard my voice rise in shrillness as I answered.

“If you must, miss. Yes.”

I ignored the implied suggestion I might be able to offer them some alternative to the cane. “But how will my caning you be any the less painful than if Mr Entwhistle does it? Do you imagine I might hit you somewhat less hard?”

“It’s not that, miss.” Finally, Fiona found her voice.

“Then what, Fiona?”

“We were hoping you might see your way clear to caning us on our bottoms, miss.”

Now it all became clear. Whilst Mr Entwhistle was empowered by the school governors to use the cane on the girls, and there was nothing in the constitution or the school rules to prevent him doing it on another part of their bodies, nonetheless our headmaster invariably caned them on their hands.

“You both feel that would be a better bet, do you girls?”

“Yes miss.” They murmured in unison.

“Unless you felt the slipper would be sufficient of course, miss.” Lorraine added.

I chuckled. “So you think you can commit two serious offences and still get away with a slippering, do you Lorraine?”

“We are eighteen, miss. It’s not illegal for us to smoke.”

“No, but it is against the school rules to bring smoking materials onto the premises, Lorraine, as you well know. And it is against the school rules to absent yourselves from school without permission, which is something I’m sure you’re both also well aware off, aren’t you?”

“Yes miss.”

“When are you due to meet your fate at the hands of our headmaster?”

“Tomorrow after school, miss.”

“Very well, I’ll see what I can do.”

*          *          *

“Mr Entwhistle!” The following day I saw the tall, thin, black cloaked figure ahead of me in the corridor. “Mr Entwhistle, could I have a word?”

“Ah, Rebecca!” The headmaster paused and turned to face me. “What can I do for you?”

“A couple of the girls in my upper sixth English class have got themselves into a spot of trouble. I believe they’re due to report to your study after school today.”

“Ah, that would be Lorraine Standing and Fiona Jenkins, would it Rebecca?”

“That’s correct, headmaster. They came to see me after school yesterday.”

Mr Entwhistle scratched his ear. “Those two don’t usually cause us any bother. It came as quite a surprise to find they’d been absconding. Off buying cigarettes too. Most unlike them.”

“Exactly. Obviously, as their form mistress, I’d like to do anything I can to help.”

“By ‘help’ I suppose you mean they want you to get them off. Is that the gist of it?”

“Not exactly, headmaster. They have both acknowledged they deserve to be punished.” My mind raced. “It’s just the thought of having to report to your study has put the fear of God into them.”

Mr Entwhistle laughed. “That is kind of the idea, actually Rebecca. It usually makes for a remarkably effective deterrent against any future offences, you know.”

“I’m sure both girls have already learned their lessons, headmaster. As you said, they’re normally exceptionally well behaved girls. I can’t imagine them doing anything like this again.”

Mr Entwhistle looked down at me from his six foot three inches. “Okay, Rebecca, you’ve made your point. But bringing smoking materials into school is an automatic caning offence, and going off without permission to buy the blessed things makes it a darn sight worse. You’ll have to give them six of the very best. And you know how I feel girls should be caned, don’t you Rebecca?”

“Yes, headmaster.”

“On that proviso, Rebecca, you may deal with them.”

“Thank you, headmaster.”

I caught up with Lorraine and Fiona as they were going to the refectory for their lunch. They looked unusually subdued.

“I have some good news for you, girls.” I called as I approached them. “You can cancel your appointment with Mr Entwhistle. Put me down in your diaries instead.”

Both girls seemed cheered by my announcement.

“Is that official, miss?” Lorraine queried.

“Straight from the headmaster’s mouth.”

“Where do you want us, miss?” Fiona almost had a smile on her face. I noticed Lorraine looking at her, and the possible double-entendre wasn’t totally lost on me either.

“My form room.” I replied, endeavouring to maintain an innocent expression. “Shall we say a quarter past four?”

*          *          *

When the bell rang to announce the end of the school day, and my class gathered their belongings together and filed out through the door, I sat back in my chair and listened to my heart pounding against my chest. I had used corporal punishment on a number of girls over the years, and each occasion brought its own thrill and excitement for reasons I chose never to deliberate over too carefully, yet the exhilaration I felt now, as I waited for Lorraine and Fiona, was far more intense than I had ever experienced before. Far from the mounting tension troubling me, I found myself revelling in it to the point that, when I heard footsteps approaching my classroom, I became almost disappointed.

I heard a tap on the door, something that sixth formers didn’t usually do.

“Come in!” I called.

“Are you ready for us, miss?”

“I am indeed, Lorraine.”

I waited as the two came up to my desk and stood alongside it. Both wore what had almost become the accepted sixth form ‘uniform’ of corduroy trousers, tan coloured in the case of Lorraine, mid to dark blue for Fiona, with pale blue open neck blouses. I sat looking up at them for some long moments, enjoying making them suffer as they waited to hear just what I was going to do to them. Fiona broke first.

“How are you going to punish us, miss?”

I smiled.

“Be in no doubt you both richly deserve a good caning. Both your offences are extremely serious. I hope you realise that.”

“Yes miss.” They both murmured.

“As you mentioned yesterday, six strokes across your extended palms would be exceedingly painful, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes miss.”

“Hopefully painful enough for you both to learn your lessons.”

Neither replied, both girls feeling less certain about appearing before me rather than Mr Entwhistle.

“However, I have decided that it shall be your bottoms that suffer rather than your poor delicate hands.”

“Thank you, miss.” Lorraine appeared genuinely grateful.

“Yes, thank you, miss.” Fiona added, also looking a little less doleful.

I smiled again.

“If I give you the slipper, can you both assure me there will be no repeat of either of these offences?”

They looked at each other, barely concealed grins on their faces.

“Yes miss.” They spoke together.

“I mean it, girls. We all know the slipper is a monumental let-off for you both. You’d better not ever let me down by breaking the school rules in such a flagrant manner ever again. Do you hear?”

“Yes miss.” They answered enthusiastically.

“Right. Let’s get to it, then.”

I reached down and opened the bottom drawer of my desk.

“Always keep a size twelve plimsoll in the bottom drawer of your desk.” That was another piece of advice my old mentor once gave me – and one I did adhere to. “There’s never been a better teaching aid for keeping order in the classroom.”

As I dragged my navy blue plimsoll out from the drawer, I could see both Lorraine and Fiona studying it carefully. I stood up. Lorraine was slightly nearer to me.

“Turn to face the blackboard, Lorraine. Fiona, you’d better take a couple of steps backwards.”

As Lorraine turned, she gave me a coy look and began to bend over.

“Just a minute, Lorraine!” I could feel the glint in my eye, and I’m sure Lorraine saw it clearly too. “I think we’ll have those trousers down, please.”

“Oh, miss!” She exclaimed, a bemused smile forming. “That’s not fair.”

“I have a cane in the cupboard, Lorraine.” I nodded to one of the cupboards that lined the further wall of my classroom. “If you’re worried about showing your knickers I’m sure Fiona would soon fetch it for us, wouldn’t you Fiona?”

“Eh? Oh, yes miss.” Fiona nervously twiddled her fingers, appearing to take my threat seriously.

Lorraine blushed, then began to unfasten her tan coloured corduroy trousers. She pushed them down her legs until they bunched up below her knees. Her pale blue blouse had long tails although I could just see the side of soft white knickers where the sides of the blouse were cut away. Having lowered her trousers, Lorraine hesitated.

“Bend over.”

I always liked using those two words; perhaps it was the immense feeling of power they induced in me.

Lorraine bent over, reaching down until she was able to grasp her legs a few inches above her ankles. I smiled, sensing this clearly was not the first time Lorraine had had to assume this position, although I knew I had never punished her before.

As soon as Lorraine was settled in position, I folded her pale blue blouse up until her whole bottom, clothed in brief shining white panties, was exposed as well as about eight inches of her naked back.

“Keep quite still.” I cautioned. “This is going to hurt.”

I rested the large plimsoll on the centre of Lorraine’s sparkling white panties and waited a few moments before drawing it back, way back above my shoulder. After another pause to concentrate my aim, I forced the rubber soled plimsoll down until it landed with a loud bang across Lorraine’s bottom.

“Ooohh!!” She cried as the force of the stroke threatened to throw her off balance.

“I hope that smarts, Lorraine.” I said as I waited for her to steady herself.

“It does, miss. It does.” Although I’m certain there was an element of mirth intended, nonetheless I could hear the pain in Lorraine’s voice, so I knew I was getting the message across.

I drew the slipper back again and took aim at the centre of Lorraine’s left buttock. With my arm tensed, I swung the plimsoll down and another hard stroke smacked across the left hand side of the girl’s bottom.

“Oooooosh!!” I heard Lorraine gasp as the slipper struck home.

After allowing Lorraine a few moments to feel the effects of the stroke, I raised the plimsoll again, focusing my attention on the right side of Lorraine’s round bottom. Keeping my arm straight, I swung the navy blue slipper down and brought it firmly against Lorraine’s right buttock.

“Ooow!!” She cried.

“Am I getting the message home, Lorraine?”

“Yes miss, you certainly are!” Lorraine puffed her cheeks out as if to give emphasis to her reply.

I brought the plimsoll back again, but as I was choosing where on Lorraine’s bottom the slipper should fall next I noticed she had bent her knees, thus lowering the target area.

“Straighten you knees, please Lorraine.” I requested, still with the slipper poised.

Lorraine did as she was told, bringing her bottom back into line with my natural swing. Without delay, I swung my arm down and delivered a hefty smack against the centre of Lorraine’s white knicker clad bottom.

“Uuunn!!” Lorraine grunted as the rubber sole crashed against her thinly protected bottom.

As I raised the plimsoll again, I noticed for the first time some red marking where the slipper had struck those portions of Lorraine’s bottom that were left exposed by her scanty underwear. Far from deterring me, I took aim at Lorraine’s left buttock and resolved to strike her again low down where her bottom was indeed exposed. My aim proved accurate.


“Keep still!” I chided, and became irritated with myself for snapping at the girl. The next would be Lorraine’s final stroke. I took aim at the right buttock, again where Lorraine’s brief knickers left portions of her bottom showing. My swing was fast and determined.


As I pulled the slipper away from Lorraine’s bottom, she turned her head towards me and allowed me to see the expression of pain on her face. Although I had struck her quite firmly with the plimsoll, I did wonder whether it had really caused her as much discomfort as the look on her face would suggest and, whilst Lorraine stayed bending over, I felt she was also seeking permission to stand upright again.

“Okay, Lorraine, stand up.”

Lorraine immediately straightened and began rubbing her bottom quite furiously over the seat of her white knickers. After about thirty seconds of this spectacle she reached down and pulled up her trousers, then fastened them as she walked the few steps to stand next to Fiona.

“Fiona.” I waved a hand towards the spot in front of me that Lorraine had just vacated.

Obediently, Fiona came forward and stood facing the blackboard. In a matter of moments, her dark blue corduroy trousers were unfastened and pushed down her long slender legs. Without another word from me she bent over, reaching right down until her fingertips made contact with the toes of her shoes.

I made short work of folding back Fiona’s pale blue blouse and found her firm round bottom to be clothed in very tight fitting navy blue knickers that were a little less revealing than Lorraine’s. I hesitated.

“Let’s see if we can’t get a little bare bottom showing, Fiona.” I said, taking hold of the elastic waist of Fiona’s knickers. “We don’t want Lorraine complaining that your underwear gave you an unfair advantage, do we?”

“No miss.”

I smiled to myself. The reply sounded as honest and sincere as I knew this somewhat restrained girls’ character to be.

“No, of course we don’t.”

I tugged the navy blue knickers upwards, working first one side and then the other, until the lower portions of Fiona’s bottom were laid bare.

“That should do the trick I think, Fiona.” I looked down at the bending eighteen year old. There was no response. “Ready?”

“Yes miss.”

I laid the rubber soled plimsoll gently against the centre of Fiona’s bottom and gave her three little taps, just to let her know the first stroke was coming at any moment. I drew the slipper way back above my right shoulder and sent it hurtling down until it smacked Fiona’s cute round bottom with a loud bang.


That faint grunt from Fiona was the only acknowledgement the slipper had indeed caused her at least some discomfort. I brought the plimsoll back again and fixed my attention on her left buttock which was now only half covered by her navy blue knickers. With my arm straightened, I swung the plimsoll down in a perfect arc until again it banged against Fiona’s firm bottom.


Despite the relative lack of verbal response, I noticed a blotchy red bruise forming on the lower portion of Fiona’s left buttock almost as soon as I had removed the plimsoll from the inviting bottom cheek. Clearly, as Fiona was a quiet girl in conversation so she was too in receiving punishment.

As I brought the plimsoll back above my shoulder for the third time, I allowed my eyes to move to the right hand side of Fiona’s bottom. It took just a moment to fix my aim and then I swung my arm down with ever greater speed until the rubber sole of the plimsoll struck its intended target with another hefty bang.


At least I had the comfort of seeing another red mark forming on Fiona’s right buttock to match and possibly surpass the one on the left. I was mid-way through Fiona’s punishment and beginning to wonder whether I had yet begun to inflict any kind of effective punishment on the girl. The marking suggested I had, but the lack of verbal response definitely caused me some doubt.

With the plimsoll poised for another stroke, I focused on the lower portions of Fiona’s bottom where her navy blue underwear left her almost naked. Leaning into the swing, I brought the plimsoll down with all my strength and it impacted against Fiona’s bottom with a resounding bang that reverberated round the room. Such was the force of the stroke that Fiona was practically knocked off her feet.


All that effort for a tiny gasp of breath! I could see, though, the marking on Fiona’s bottom was becoming darker and more vivid. Surely, I must be hurting her?

I took aim again, my eyes still on that lower part of Fiona’s bottom where her navy blue knickers left her bare. I’m sure I grunted louder than Fiona, possibly even louder than Lorraine, as I swung my arm down with as much force as I could muster. The slipper cracked into Fiona’s bottom with another extremely loud bang.


Yet again, such a mild response to such a firm blow! I looked towards Fiona’s face, allowing myself a brief respite before the final stroke. All I could see was a serious face concentrating on looking down at her toes. I took a deep breath, drew the slipper back and fixed my attention on the centre of Fiona’s bottom. With my cheeks puffed out to hold the air in my lungs, I sent the plimsoll swinging down and delivered the final stroke with all the effort I possessed. The rubber soled slipper crashed yet again into the intended target.


Yes! At least a slightly greater reaction than before!

“Okay Fiona, you’re done.” I took another deep breath as I watched Fiona ease herself up from her bending position and then, only then, did I notice a single tear trickle down her pretty face. Fiona didn’t speak; she merely reached back down and pulled up her dark blue trousers, fastened them, and went to stand next to Lorraine. I could see Lorraine was quite worried for her friend, such was the anxious look on her face, but Fiona managed a half smile and that seemed to reassure Lorraine she had survived her ordeal.

I turned and went back to my chair, sitting myself down before returning the plimsoll to its drawer.

“Now look, girls, you really have been quite naughty, as I’m sure you’re only too aware.”

“Yes miss.” They both murmured.

“You may like to know I’ve disobeyed our headmaster by slippering you both.”

The two girls appeared somewhat baffled by that news. I nodded as if to confirm.

“I was actually instructed to cane you.”

Realisation dawned.

“So you’d better be discreet about your punishments this evening or we’ll all be in a lot of trouble.”

“Yes miss.”

“Okay, off you go.”

Two still mystified girls left my classroom. As I sat staring at an empty room, I too felt somewhat baffled by my own actions. Those two thoroughly deserved to be caned for committing two of the most serious offences in the school rule book, and with most girls I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. Lorraine and Fiona, I had to admit, were my favourites and whilst I tried to think of very good reasons why my action could be justified, in the end it came down to pure favouritism.

*          *          *

Three weeks later, after a pleasant lunch at the staff table in the refectory, I was back in my classroom with a quarter of an hour to spare before the first of my afternoon classes. I decided to copy some of my preparatory notes on the blackboard.

“Damn!” I cursed out loud as I picked up the miniscule piece of chalk and remembered I had intended to get more chalk from the storeroom. I rushed out in something of a temper even though I had only myself to blame for my absentmindedness. The storeroom was at the opposite end of the school down in the basement and fetching new chalk was going to waste most of my fifteen minutes spare time.

‘Doesn’t anything work around here?’ I questioned angrily to myself as the key stubbornly refused to turn in the lock. I twisted it first one way and then the other until finally the door gave in and allowed me to enter the storeroom. ‘Curious,’ I thought. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t locked. It should have been though.’

I went halfway along one of the rows of shelves to where the chalk was kept in brown cardboard boxes and selected three sticks of white chalk from one box, two of yellow chalk from another and one of reddish orange from a third.

Just as I turned to leave, I thought I heard a noise. Only then did I realise there was a foreign scented smell within the fairly large room that contrasted distinctly with the slightly stale odour that usually pervaded the storeroom.

“Is there someone there?” I asked, more than a little nervously.

My question was met with a stony silence, that eerie silence that confirms the presence of at least one other person.

“Come on, show yourself!” I demanded.

A faint rustling came from the back of the room.

“Come on, I know you’re there.” I called.

I looked round and saw the approaching figure of a sixth form prefect, a blonde girl called Nicola Harmsworth.

“What are you doing here, Nicola?”

“I, um, had to fetch a new exercise book for Miss Thomsett, miss.”

“The exercise books are over there, Nicola.” I pointed to the opposite direction from whence the girl had emerged. “As you well know.”

Nicola’s face turned bright red.

“Show me where you were, Nicola.”

Nicola turned and led me to a recess at the back of the storeroom. I looked down at the floor and spotted a small quantity of ash. After a little searching I discovered the remains of a roach, proving it wasn’t just tobacco Nicola had been smoking.

“Report to my form room after school today, Nicola. Then I’ll take you along to see Mr Entwhistle.”

“But miss, he’ll cane me.” I could see Nicola’s eyes becoming watery and tearful.

“Indeed he will, Nicola. Hopefully, that will teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry. Now, off to your classes.”

“But miss…”

“Off you go, Nicola!” I repeated more forcefully.

The afternoon went as an average afternoon always goes, the task of having to take Nicola Harmsworth to see Mr Entwhistle being nothing more than a minor extra duty that all teachers have to face from time to time. Nicola was a pretty girl who should have been more popular with the other girls, not to mention the staff, than she actually was. There always seemed to be something devious about the way she went about her school life, although I personally never had any problems with her.

At six minutes past four, there was a tap on my classroom door. I looked up and saw Nicola Harmsworth’s pretty face, albeit looking rather gloomy, through the glass panes that formed the top half of the door.

“Come in, Nicola!” I called.

“You told me to report to you after school, miss.”

“So I did, Nicola.” I looked the eighteen year old prefect up and down. She appeared quite smart in black trousers and a white blouse; perhaps she felt her rank of prefect called for more attention to her appearance than other sixth form girls of a lesser status. “You realise I have no alternative other than to take you to Mr Entwhistle, don’t you Nicola? Shall we get this over with?”

I stood up, but Nicola made no attempt to move. We stood facing each other long enough for me to start wondering.

“That’s not quite true, is it miss?”

“I’m sorry?” I blurted out, surprised to find the girl arguing with me.

“You don’t have to take me to the headmaster, miss.”

“I think I do, Nicola. Smoking, especially smoking cannabis, is a serious breach of the school rules. As a prefect, you should know better than anyone such things are always reported to Mr Entwhistle.”

“But I’ll get eight strokes, miss.”

I thought for a moment. I knew girls usually got six strokes for smoking tobacco; eight for smoking cannabis seemed more than likely.

“Yes, Nicola. I expect you will. Many schools would expel you for such a thing. Count yourself lucky you’re only getting the cane.”

“Lucky?” Nicola snorted sarcastically.

“Yes lucky, Nicola. Now come along. We don’t want this to last all evening, do we? Let’s get this over with.”

“From what I hear, some girls are luckier than others, aren’t they miss?”

“I beg your pardon!”

“I think you know what I’m talking about, miss.”

“I don’t think I do, Nicola.”

“I think you do, miss.”

I sat back down in my chair again, flabbergasted by Nicola’s really quite insolent behaviour.

“What exactly are you driving at, Nicola?”

She hesitated. “I did hear you were able to prevent a couple of sixth form girls being caned by Mr Entwhistle, miss.”

“Did you, now?” I thought for a moment. Pennies were beginning to drop. “Well, if I did perhaps there was something exceptional about their case, Nicola. Something that doesn’t apply in your case.”

“That wasn’t what I heard, miss.” Nicola looked down at her feet, anything to avoid my angry stare.

I swallowed. My instinct was towards anger at this girl’s contemptuous attitude, but clearly she knew something, and she seemed to know enough for it to potentially have unfortunate implications for me as well as the other girls involved.

“Okay, Nicola, just what did you hear? Come along, tell me exactly what you think you know.”

“Well miss, I believe Lorraine Standing and Fiona Jenkins were caught going out to the local shop and bringing cigarettes back with them. I heard they were due to report to Mr Entwhistle and that you had a word with him and they got slippered by you instead of being caned.”

I leaned back in my chair, trying to think hard and quickly. Nicola Harmsworth was indeed remarkably well informed. I was feeling totally trapped.

“So, what do you have in mind, Nicola?”

Curiously, that seemed to catch Nicola by surprise to the point she didn’t really know how to react.

“I, I don’t know miss.” Now it was Nicola’s turn to try and think quickly. “I really don’t want to have to face Mr Entwhistle.”

For once, I felt Nicola was being truly sincere. I decided to help her.

“Presumably you want me to punish you in the same way as I punished Lorraine and Fiona. Is that it?”

Nicola didn’t answer. I waited for a few moments, but still Nicola had nothing to say.

“I hope you don’t expect to get away with it totally, Nicola! Believe me, that is not going to happen!”

The eighteen year old nodded her head thoughtfully before speaking almost in a whisper. “Okay miss, so long as it’s just the slipper.”

Finally, Nicola was able to look directly back at me.

“Exactly the same as I did with Lorraine and Fiona?”

Nicola nodded her assent before adding: “Yes miss.”

“Very well. I presume you want to take it now and get it over with?”

Nicola hesitated before answering: “Yes miss.”

I reached down and pulled open the drawer that contained my size twelve plimsoll, moving slowly and taking my time before pulling the slipper out and into Nicola’s view. She seemed suitably perturbed by its appearance, although I’m sure nowhere near as concerned as she would have been had she been watching Mr Entwhistle taking a cane from his cupboard.

As I stood up, I wondered whether Nicola was as aware of all the details of Lorraine and Fiona’s punishment as she led me to believe.

“Okay Nicola, you seem to know all about it. You know what you have to do.” I stood facing the eighteen year old, patting my left palm with the rubber sole of the plimsoll in as menacing a gesture as I could manufacture.

Nicola seemed confused. She looked all around her, as though she expected to find a notice pinned to some item of furniture within the classroom informing her as to how she should take her slippering.

“I’m waiting, Nicola.” I opted to increase the pressure on her.

“What, um…” She stuttered. “What do you want me to do, miss?”

‘Aha!’ I thought to myself. ‘Perhaps Lorraine and Fiona didn’t go into so much detail after all.’

I waved the plimsoll towards the front row of desks.

“I want you to bend over one of those desks, Nicola.” Then, just as Nicola turned, I added: “After you’ve taken your trousers and pants down, of course.”

“Taken my trousers and p…?” Nicola stumbled over her words again. “But, Lorraine and Fiona didn’t mention anything about…”

“Didn’t they, Nicola? Didn’t they mention they were slippered on their bare bottoms? Didn’t they tell you they got si…, um, twelve good hard whacks with their trousers and pants down around their ankles?”

“No miss.” Nicola stood facing the small school desk, turning her head round anxiously. “No miss, they didn’t mention anything about that.”

“Well, Nicola, it’s up to you. We can still go and see Mr Entwhistle if you prefer. I’m sure I’ll be just as content watching you get your palms stung with some well aimed strokes of his favourite rattan.”

The look on Nicola’s face suggested she didn’t find that idea at all appealing.

“Otherwise, I suggest you get your trousers and pants down and get across that desk.”

Nicola frowned, the sort of frown that implies suspicion. “You slippered Fiona and Lorraine across their bare bottoms, miss?”

“Isn’t that what I told you?” I felt guilty knowing I was being quite deceitful, but my animosity towards Nicola after the way she ensnared me had taken over.

“I guess you’re going to lay it on pretty hard, aren’t you miss?” I could see tears forming in Nicola’s eyes.

Suddenly, my bitterness towards the girl evaporated. Yes, I was intending to give Nicola a slippering that she’d remember for the rest of her days. Yes, I was going to get my revenge on this wretched girl. But now, now that she knew, now that she had confronted me with the truth of my feelings, I put the slipper down on my desk and held my arms open to the girl. Nicola responded by coming to me and burying her face in my shoulder.

“I am so sorry, miss.” She snuffled.

“I know you are, Nicola. I know you are.”

After comforting the girl for several minutes, I reached back and pulled open the top drawer of my desk. After searching blindly, I found a pack of paper tissues and pulled a handful from the pack.

“Come along, Nicola.” I cooed. “Here you are. Dry your eyes on these.”

Soon she had recovered sufficiently to pull back from me a little way and look up into my face with a weak smile. “I really am so sorry, miss.”

“I know you are, Nicola.” I rubbed her shoulders gently in a massaging fashion. “What are we going to do with you, Nicola?”

“Slipper me, miss?” She looked up with pleading eyes.

“I do have to give you some sort of punishment, Nicola.”

“I know you do, miss.”

Nicola began to pull away from me. I’m certain she would have gone across to the small school desk and bent across it had I allowed her to, but I tugged her back. Taking her by the arm, I stepped back and sat on the end of my desk.

“Come on naughty girl,” I teased. “I’m going to put you across my knee.”

As I manoeuvred her round to my right side, I pulled Nicola by the arm so she had to lean across my lap. Nicola soon cottoned on to the idea, for she voluntarily bent herself over until she felt comfortable and secure across my thighs. I looked down at her tempting round bottom, snugly encased in black trousers.

“I think a good spanking will suffice on this occasion, don’t you Nicola?”

“Yes, miss.” Nicola answered, seeming to greatly prefer the thought of being spanked by a friendly teacher than slippered by my earlier hostile self.

“And I don’t think you really need the protection of these trousers, do you Nicola?”

“No miss.” She answered, lifting herself up slightly so I could reach under her stomach and release the fastenings of her trousers. Nicola continued to cooperate as I eased the garment down off her hips until they bunched around her knees. After carefully folding up the tail of Nicola’s white blouse, I admired her shapely bottom clad in just smooth fitting white brief knickers. I hesitated. My hands hovered over the elastic waist of the flimsy underwear.

Nicola twisted her head round to see what was happening behind her back. I saw the look on her face. She was clearly expecting me to pull her knickers down too. Our eyes met.

“What do you reckon, Nicola?”

“Yes.” She whispered.

I rubbed my hand over her back between her shoulder blades and she settled back down across my knee. Slowly, I peeled back the delicate elastic that kept her white knickers secure and carefully exposed the soft pinkish white curves of her firm soft bottom. It seemed an age before the underwear joined her trousers at her knees, and I relished every moment.

“Ready?” I questioned, after long moments gazing down at Nicola’s immaculate round bottom.

“Yes miss.” She answered so softly I only just heard.

I slapped her, a sharp little smack on her right buttock that clipped surprisingly loudly in the empty classroom. I smacked her again, a similar clip to the left buttock. After about eight or ten smacks, alternating between Nicola’s right and left buttocks, she finally flinched as one of my slaps obviously began to smart a little.

“Hurting?” I asked.

“Just a little, yes miss.”

“Good.” I answered, both of us knowing I was teasing rather than meaning any real hostility.

As my hand flitted from side to side, slapping first one cheek and then the other of Nicola’s wonderful bottom, I could feel the temperature of the soft surface rising from distinctly cool to comfortably warm. Slowly, too, pale creamy pink colour rose to a gentle warm red colour that mirrored the feel of Nicola’s bottom on my hand.

“Ouch, that hurts!” After fully thirty spanks, Nicola finally protested and tried to cover her bottom with her hand.

“Oh no you don’t!” I caught her by the wrist and folded Nicola’s arm up her back which had the effect of pinning the girl more securely to my lap.

“It’s hurting!”

“Well it is meant to, you know.” I chided, with more than a hint of sincerity. “You are being spanked!”

“I know.”

As I continued to spank Nicola’s bottom, I felt myself making each smack just that little bit harder than the previous one until, after some fifty smacks had impacted against her bottom, I found my hand beginning to hurt. I carried on, though, until I had delivered another ten spanks.

“I need to take a breather.” I declared, shaking my hand in the air to ease the discomfort in my palm. “Oh no you don’t. You stay there.” I gripped Nicola’s arm as I resisted her efforts to pull herself off my lap. “I haven’t finished yet.”

“But miss, my bottom’s getting really sore.”

I looked down at the firm compact bottom that was poised across my lap. Indeed it had turned a vivid shade of red.

“Okay, another twenty spanks and you’re through. Okay?”

“Okay. Yes miss.” Her voice lacked enthusiasm.

With my hand feeling somewhat recovered, I aimed a firm sharp smack at Nicola’s right buttock.

“Ow!” She cried, although at the time I supposed it was as much from the surprise as the pain she suffered on her bottom. I followed it with an equally sharp smack to the left buttock.


Ignoring Nicola’s cries I continued spanking her slowly and firmly, making each smack that little bit harder than the preceding one. After another ten spanks, my hand was hurting again and, judging by Nicola’s cries, so was her bottom. Then, just as I was about to deliver the penultimate smack…

“What on earth is going on here? Rebecca! What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

Oh God! How long had he been there? How much had he seen? My relationship with Mr Entwhistle was usually a good and professional one, but right then and there I felt just like a naughty schoolgirl.

With my hand still poised to deliver another spank, Nicola Harmsworth began struggling free from my grasp. She stood up facing me and swiftly pulled her white knickers and black trousers up while I continued to sit on the edge of my desk and stare open-mouthed at the door, or more particularly the tall thin black cloaked figure of our headmaster, Mr Entwhistle.

“Nicola, I think you’d better get yourself off home. Come to my study first thing tomorrow morning.” Mr Entwhistle’s rich masculine tone soon had the eighteen year old scurrying out of the door. “Rebecca, I think we’d better have a chat in my study. Shall we say five minutes?”

*          *          *

I’m sure it was more like ten minutes before I’d recovered my composure sufficiently to make my way down to the headmaster’s study. When I got there I hovered, trembling just as any schoolgirl would when she knows she is about to get the cane. Knowing that delay could only makes things worse, I tapped on the door.


I opened the door and entered the richly furnished study. I stood in front of the large mahogany desk while Mr Entwhistle engrossed himself in an open file. My file? What else could it have been? Eventually, he looked up.

“Ah, Rebecca, do have a seat.”

I sat down, grateful he was not going to keep me standing there just as a naughty schoolgirl would have to. Even so, my heart was pounding as Mr Entwhistle went back to reading the file. After some minutes, he closed it and smiled rather insincerely.

“So, Rebecca, what was that all about?”

My nervousness made me speak so fast I soon became almost breathless. I told Mr Entwhistle the full story of how I’d saved Lorraine and Fiona from being caned and how Nicola must have discovered our little pact and then used it against me when I discovered she’d been smoking in the store room. He listened without interruption, nodding occasionally whenever I did take a rare pause to catch my breath. At the end, he sat looking at me and twiddling his fingers, that wretched smile still spread across his face.

“Oh dear me, Rebecca, it’s a very foolish policy to enter into secret little trysts with the girls. They always let you down eventually, you know.”

“So it seems, headmaster.”

“What a pity you didn’t come and talk to me about Lorraine and Fiona in the first place.”

“Would it have made any difference? To their punishments, I mean.”

“No. They’d broken two serious school rules, being out of school without permission and bringing smoking materials onto the school premises. They’d have been expecting the cane and I wouldn’t have disappointed them. But at least I could have explained to you the reasons for dealing with them firmly. That way, you might have seen it from my point of view, and saved yourself a lot of grief by the look of it.”

“Yes headmaster.”

Of course, now I could see it. Why jeopardise my career for the sake of preventing two girls getting stinging palms, especially when they thoroughly deserved it.

“It may interest you to know, Rebecca, Lorraine and Fiona were caught doing exactly the same thing not ten days later. They got eight strokes each, four on each hand. So, you see, you didn’t actually save them from a caning after all.”

“I… I wasn’t aware of that, headmaster.”

“No, I don’t suppose they’d have been in too much of a hurry to tell you about that, Rebecca.” Mr Entwhistle gave me a few moments to mull over how my leniency towards Lorraine and Fiona had been a complete waste of time.

“Presumably, Lorraine and Fiona haven’t re-offended since you caned them?”

“I believe not, Rebecca.” There was that self-satisfying smile on his face again. “Which brings us to the rather more serious matter concerning Nicola. You tell me you were punishing her for smoking cannabis in the store room?”

“Yes headmaster.” I murmured, wishing the thick pile carpet would swallow me up.

“I think you’re going to find it hard to justify having a half naked eighteen year old girl sprawled across your lap while you’re smacking her bare bottom with your hand. However, perhaps you’d like to give it a try.”

I shook my head. This was not something I wished to discuss out loud. There was nothing I could say that would in any way validate the manner in which I was punishing Nicola. I offered my resignation and it was accepted. I have never taught again.

Author’s footnote: This is a personal story told to me in around 1998, nearly ten years after she’d given up her teaching career. The names have been changed, but otherwise the story is pretty much as I remember it being related to me.

The End

© Kenny Walters 2009

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