A girl’s past adds spice to a relationship. 

By Julie Baker

We are Mark and Stephanie aged 29 and 26 respectively. We have recently got married and this is the story of how we met.

Stephanie McGregor’s Story

I was born in 1989 in Harare, Zimbabwe to white parents of Scottish stock. I have always been known as ‘Steph’. We lived on a farm two hours drive north of the city and up to the age of 12 I was educated at home along with my younger brother and two children from a neighbouring farm. Although I have known nothing other than an independent Zimbabwe, where white farmers are often targeted, we were fortunate because my father had a great relationship with his workers and the local population and we were left to run our affairs in relative peace and safety. This changed later, but in my early years I had a very good life.

When I was 12 I was sent to a girl’s boarding school on the outskirts of Harare. My fellow pupils came from all racial backgrounds but the majority of the girls had some connection to the UK in their family histories. It was a broadly happy institution. However, the school was run on traditional British lines with corporal punishment still very much at the core of the disciplinary system. Staff were all white and mainly female, but we did have a few male teachers. They could all use the slipper on us when they deemed it necessary and the head teacher could use the cane for more serious offences.

The slipper was used very frequently. For me, the effect of corporal punishment should be two fold. Firstly, there should be an element of shame and embarrassment and, secondly, it should, in itself, be painful and unpleasant. It was dished out so frequently that it became completely routine, so on this basis it was perhaps not too effective. However the pain was always the same. I never got the cane, but the slipperings could be quite brutal. Never more than six blows but generally full on and it was impossible not to cry out and be in tears by the end of each punishment. Bottoms were bright red and the dark bruising that followed could last for a week. The worst beatings were the ones delivered to an already bruised bottom.

Throughout the school we had to wear a traditional British style school uniform with blazer, white cotton blouse, navy pleated skirt which was just below knee length and white socks with black shoes. We also had to wear regulation navy school knickers which were made of thick brushed cotton. They were ‘trunk’ style with elasticated waist and legs. We hated them with a passion! Because we had our own clothes for weekends, we did have access to much nicer underwear. So many of us, from time to time, would chance wearing our own panties under our school skirts during the week.

This generally worked fine. Our skirts were full in length but we had to make a special effort to conceal our illicit underwear when changing for games. The only problem came if you managed to qualify for a slippering when not wearing regulation underwear. The rules stated that punishments were to be administered over one layer of clothing. That meant we had to raise our skirts when we had to bend over to receive the slipper. Clearly, it then became evident if you were wearing non regulation knickers. Under these circumstances you had to remove your panties and they were confiscated for the rest of that term. You then received your punishment on your bare bottom.

There was one final possible twist to this scenario and we called it ‘getting the full set’. The full set consisted of getting three occurrences coming together at the same time, and all of us lived in dread of it happening. Firstly, you had to do something that qualified you for a slippering. Not difficult. Secondly, this had to happen on a day when you had chanced wearing your own underwear. And thirdly, the teacher with whom you were in trouble was male. The worst combination! You had to remove your panties and hand them to him for safe keeping and then raise your skirt to show him your bare bottom before bending over to allow him to slipper you. It simply could not get any worse!

Anyway, we all seemed to get through alright and by the time I got to my final year at school, which was 2008, I was studying hard for my A levels and had been offered a place at Edinburgh University to study Economics. I still had relations who lived in Edinburgh and I was desperate to get the right grades. However, the security situation back at the farm had taken a turn for the worse and my parents had taken the tough decision to get out of Zimbabwe with what ever they could take. Fortunately they had reasonable savings accumulated outside of the country and they were able to buy a house in Perthshire. We flew out from Harare Airport the day after my final day at school.

We moved into our new house and my father soon got a job as a farm manager on a local estate. My parents took some time to adjust to their new circumstances but I got into Edinburgh University and settled in to student life with no difficulties. Most people thought that I was South African, but my accent was a source of interest and I soon had a large circle of friends. I got on well with the course and after four blissfully happy years ended up with a 2:1 honours degree. I then accepted a job with one of the large pension fund companies in Edinburgh and got myself a shared house with three other uni friends in Balerno which is on the west side of the City.

This was not so handy for nights out in Edinburgh, but the rent was less and we had more space. The other benefit was that I could join a small sports club which was just beyond the city bypass and only about three miles from my house. It had three tennis courts, two squash courts and a small bar. Low key but perfect for me as I like to play squash in the winter and tennis in the summer. I have always played these sports to a reasonable standard and I felt that by being a member I could meet some new people beyond my work colleagues and old university friends.

So life was good. I was 22, living independently in a lovely city and I had a wide circle of friends. I played lots of squash in that winter of 2014/15 and by March the club were starting to get geared up for the tennis season. I decided to attend the casual tennis social evenings during the week and enter as many competitions as possible so that I could make new friends and improve my standard of play. There was one competition that caught my eye and that was a mixed doubles format with partners’ names drawn out of a hat. Matches were played by arrangement in the evenings but I liked the idea of not having control over who you played with. I put in my entry. I checked the tennis notice board a few weeks later and I noted that I had been drawn to play with someone called Mark Glover. I had never heard of him.

Mark Glover’s Story

I was born in 1986 in Edinburgh and I have never had any desire to move away. Both my parents are lawyers and I had a very comfortable upbringing. I am an only child and my parents sent me to private day schools in the city. I then went to Heriot Watt University and eventually I passed my exams and I am now a fully qualified financial accountant. I work for one of the large Scottish banks and I have recently bought my first house in Livingston. I have always been a good tennis player and have represented Scotland at junior levels. These days, though, I’m simply a very good club player. I also keep myself fit during the winter by playing squash.

When I moved to Livingston I joined the sports club towards the City bypass, as it combined both sports. It has a relatively small membership and I have been men’s club champion for the past few seasons. I also wanted to meet some new people who lived on the west side of the city. One excellent way of mixing within the tennis section is to enter the club mixed doubles competition. There are two versions; one in which you select your partner, and one where names are drawn out of a hat. I quite like the latter version as there is an element of chance and the same couple is unlikely to win each year. So, in the spring of 2015 I put my name down for both of the mixed doubles competition once again.

A couple of weeks later I checked the notice board and discovered that I had been drawn to play with Stephanie McGregor in the version with random partners. I couldn’t believe my good luck! She was by far the prettiest girl in the club, tall and slender with dark colouring and the most beautiful body. She had a lovely face framed by long black hair that she tied up into a tight bun when she was playing sport. She also had a great outgoing personality and she was one of those people who was always the centre of attention within any group. That said, she didn’t come across as being pushy or arrogant and she appeared to be popular within her circle of friends at the club.

The preliminary matches in this competition are generally played in the weekday evenings by arrangement between the couples. This year there were five rounds to be played including the final which was scheduled to be the last match played on finals day on a Sunday afternoon in August. I rang Steph’s mobile number and we arranged to play our first tie in the last week of April. We won quite comfortably and I learnt two things. Firstly, Steph was, and still is, a pretty decent tennis player and secondly, that she had, and still has, the most lovely way with people.

I was a bit love struck even after that first evening. I knew that she was a beautiful girl but I loved the way she dressed for tennis; always in traditional white which really suited her colouring. Tight polo shirt and flared tennis skirt that came down to mid thigh with short socks and white tennis shoes completed the look. Occasionally I got a glimpse of her panties if she bent low for a shot. Tight to the skin revealing none of the fleshy part of her bottom but certainly displaying a lovely shape.

After the match we shook hands and quickly departed in our cars as the light was fading. I couldn’t wait for the next round which I managed to arrange for the middle of May. We again won quite easily and this time I asked Steph if she wanted a drink in the club bar. She readily accepted and we spent a pleasant hour chatting in a group of mutual friends. I was really getting to like this girl!

We played the next round in early June on a really warm day. The matches were predictably becoming tougher and we dropped our first set of the competition on the way to a 2 sets to 1 victory. Our opponents left and, instead of going to the bar, Steph and I went into the old tennis pavilion to cool off. This building is wooden in construction and before the squash courts were built it would have been at the heart of the club. It has a good sized sitting area with full length windows overlooking the courts and ladies and gents changing rooms on each flank. At the back is a small kitchen area.

We sat in a couple of easy chairs and talked about the match. We were through to the semi-final and we were beginning to think that we had a chance of winning the competition. We also chatted about our backgrounds and life experiences. Mine seemed fairly dull compared to Steph’s upbringing in Zimbabwe and her new life in Scotland. She talked briefly about her school days and mentioned that discipline at her boarding school had been particularly severe. I noted this but didn’t press her for more details at this stage. Eventually the conversation wound up and we parted to go home. I gave her a light kiss on her cheek as we left which she readily accepted.

The semi-final was delayed for a few weeks by a combination of bad weather and holidays but we won it and this time I suggested that we went to a pub close to her place to celebrate our victory. She agreed, and for the first time I really sensed that she was warming to me. We found a quiet corner to sit in and we talked for the next two hours until we were the last two remaining in the bar. We covered everything including ambitions, likes, dislikes, friendships, music, sport, families and finally back to Steph’s school days.

“So how is discipline maintained in a girl’s boarding school in Harare?” I ventured.

“Liberal use of the slipper!” She replied without hesitation.

And this led onto a detailed discussion about corporal punishment at Steph’s old school. She told me all about it including the concept of ‘the full set’ when a male teacher would slipper her on her bare bottom. I could see how this latter set of circumstances would be greeted with some horror by the girls involved, but I think she was eventually getting the hang of the idea that there could be an alternative male perspective on these instances! I was asking for a lot of detail, including questions like ‘what position did you adopt to get the punishment?’, ‘was there much difference between being slippered with or without underwear in place?’ and ‘were you always slippered alone or was it sometimes in groups?’ I was showing more than a passing interest and I think she quickly picked up on this.

We then got back onto the topic of the mixed doubles final and we briefly discussed our chances. We had been winning quite comfortably but we were familiar both of our opponents and we knew that we were in for a tough match. I could tell that Steph had her heart set on winning and she was already showing the early signs of nerves creeping in. By this time she was on her third glass of wine and was becoming noticeably more bold!

“If we don’t win, it will be all my fault,” she ventured. “You are the best tennis player in the club.”

“Don’t worry, it will be fine. Just play as you have done so far and we will be OK,” I replied.

There was a bit of a pause before she spoke again.

“I’ll do my best not to let you down, Mark. If we do lose, then in my opinion I’ll have qualified for a ‘full set’ and you’ll have to punish me accordingly!”

We both laughed at this suggestion and got up to go. Steph had parked her car outside her flat and I walked with her for the 10 minutes it took her to get home. I decided to plunge in and tell her that I was getting more and more fond of her and I asked if we could do more than simply meet at the tennis club. I felt her hand search for mine and when I had finished speaking she stopped and turned to me. Even in the failing light I could see that she had tears in her eyes and she gave me one of her wonderful radiant similes.

“I would like that Mark,” she said and turned to go through her front gate. Then she was gone.

Actually we did not meet up again in the two weeks before finals day. I had a complete nightmare during the match and we lost in straight sets. Steph had played well and it was entirely my fault. We were both really disappointed and Steph suggested we go to the old pavilion rather than join everyone else in the main bar attached to the squash courts so that we could reflect on what had happened. It was gone 8 o’clock and the sun was sinking in the sky.

We sat on two hard chairs which were by the dining table, and we said nothing for several minutes. Then Steph lifted her bottom slightly off the chair and put her hands up her skirt. In a quick and graceful movement she removed her panties and held them in her hand. She passed them across to me. I was momentarily puzzled but took them and was immediately struck by how little weight they contained. There was nothing to them. I popped them into my short’s pocket and I couldn’t help thinking about Steph’s bare bottom on the hard surface of the chair.

“Are you remembering the arrangement we had for ‘the full set’?” She asked.

“There is no way that I can punish you for your performance today!” I protested. “You played well. This is all my fault, not yours.”

“A deal’s a deal, Mark. There were no conditions attached. If we lost then I would receive a bare bottom slippering. That was what we agreed and that is what I am expecting. Are you proposing to back out?”

“Well if that is what you want then fair enough. I’m happy to deliver if you want to receive!” From our conversation in the pub she must have known that I was going to be up for this.

“Yes, Mark,” she replied. “It is what I want. For me this will be a trip back to my school days and this has to feel as though it’s real. I’m expecting it to sting!”

“OK, Steph. Where do we go from here, then?” I was happy for her to take the lead.

“We need something for you to use on me,” she replied. “I think my trainers are too small but your tennis shoes look a bit heavy for my liking. Shall we have a look in the lost property basket in the kitchen. There is bound to be something suitable in there.”

This was getting to be quite surreal! Here I was with the prettiest girl in the tennis club, she had a bare bottom concealed beneath her tennis skirt and we were hunting for some sort of shoe so that I could give her a spanking. Was I having a dream? This was too good to be true life!

We trooped into the kitchen and she delved into the laundry basket which doubled as the lost property store. I couldn’t help noticing that her skirt was shortening at the back as she bent over but at this stage she only revealed more of the upper parts of her lovely shapely legs. The basket was mainly filled with limp looking tennis gear but she managed to produce a couple of single shoes from the lower depths. One looked perfect. It was a beige canvas men’s shoe with a moulded rubber sole. Size 8. She gave it a couple of practice swings.

“Perfect,” she said. “What do you think, Mark?”

“Yes, looks good to me,” I replied. “Where shall we go?”

I could see her puzzling over this question. Eventually she spoke.

“I quite like the idea of me bending over the table in the main room, but I think there’s too much glass around and somebody could see in. I think we’ll have to go into the ladies’ changing room. The windows are high up and there is a lock on the door. Also there is an old wooden baby changing unit in there that I could go over for the slippering. That’s probably the best bet.”

She led the way, still carrying the canvas shoe, and I locked the door behind us. Clearly I had not been in the Ladies’ changing room before and I was struck how homely it was compared to the men’s version. Curtains over the windows, which were admitting the last of the sun’s rays, a nice rug on the floor, and cushions scattered around on the wall benches. In the corner was the nappy changing bench which Steph dragged into the middle of the room after handing me the shoe. There was a cushioned plastic mat on the top which she took off and laid on one of the benches. This revealed a slatted top. The wood was dark brown in colour and the surface of the unit was level with Steph’s hips. It didn’t look very comfortable.

“Do you want a covering or some cushions on there, Steph?” I asked.

“No, I’ll be fine, Mark. I don’t think the hard slats will be my biggest worry in a few minutes time!” She was laughing as she said this but I could detect the tension in her voice.

“OK. So let’s get this clear. I’m going to give you six of the best with this shoe on your bare bottom. I’m going to deliver it firmly but if at any stage you want to pull out you will let me know. Agreed?”

“Yes, Mark,” she replied in a low voice.

“In your own time, then, please get yourself ready,” I said.

She walked over and stood at the end of the baby unit with her back to me. The atmosphere was electric. She reached down with both her hands and gripped the lower hem of her tennis skirt. Slowly she raised it until the tops of her legs were revealed and still it went on upwards. A few seconds later, her skirt was held above her waist and her naked bottom was revealed to me in the late evening sun light. Absolutely gorgeous. Tight, but with perfect lines, and beautifully smooth, unblemished skin.

She gathered her skirt to the front and lined her hips up with the edge of the unit before slowly lowering her upper body onto the slats. She then reached out with her hands to grip the far edge of the unit.

“I’m ready, Mark,” she said in a voice that was barely audible. I could see that she was taking deep breaths.

I moved towards her and stood to her left hand side. I rested the shoe on the middle of her bottom and then gave it a couple of gentle taps. I could see her skin respond but she clearly wasn’t carrying any excess flesh in that area. Not much to absorb the impact, I thought. I didn’t give her any warning apart from the shoe losing contact with her skin. The first blow cracked into the centre of her bottom and I wondered if I had gone in too hard. She let out a sharp cry and I thought she was going to stand up. She held her position, though, and said nothing. I delivered the second and third blows with equal force and there was no reaction from Steph.

I could see that her bottom was beginning to colour up.

“That’s half way, Steph. Do you want a break to rub your bottom?”

Again she said nothing but she released the far edge of the unit and her hands went behind her in an attempt to ease the discomfort. In less than a minute she was back in position and I took this to be the signal to continue with the slippering.

After number four, she was starting to whimper and I could see that see was taking in large gulps of air to try to control the pain. Her bottom was getting very red and I tried to deliver number five lower down so that it might be better for her. It didn’t seem to help and I delivered the last one back where we started in the middle. This seemed to finally break her and she lay on the unit with head down sobbing uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry, Steph. Was that too much?”

She could hardly speak. “Hand lotion. Ladies loo,” was all she could manage.

I immediately understood the request and nipped into the shower room. Sure enough, there was a hand lotion dispenser on the basin and I helped myself to enough to cover both of my hands. I returned to Steph, who was still bent over the changing unit with her skirt hoisted above her waist. I gently massaged the cream into her bottom, marvelling at the smoothness of her skin despite the thrashing she had just received.

When the lotion had been absorbed by her skin I stood back and she gently peeled herself off the surface of the unit. As she stood up, her skirt fell down to cover her bottom once again. Her face was streaked with tears and she fell into my arms.

“I want you to make love to me, Mark,” she said eventually.

And that is what we did on that lovely soft rug in the Ladies’ changing room at the tennis club. I can’t tell you how fantastic it was but it was a good job that the bar at the squash courts was far enough away for the noise we made not to carry! We have been inseparable ever since and got married soon after. We still play tennis and squash at the same sports club and when I get the chance I sneak a look into the Ladies changing room to remind me of the first time we made love. We are discrete but still get pleasure from spanking each other although we are planning to start a family shortly so we may have to curtail our activities!

The End

© Julie Baker 2016     Email Julie at   julie.baker_cane@mail.com   or Julie’s Twitter Account is: @JulieBaker_cane