A schoolgirl discovers that anticipation can be almost as bad as the punishment itself
I knew as soon as I took the note I was in trouble. Miss French had been in an irritable mood for most of the lesson. A few distractions from my classmates had not helped. They had been barked at, and everyone knew the next person to incur her wrath was in serious trouble. Monica, my best friend, had tapped my arm and, when I turned round, she passed me a note. I had just taken hold of it when Miss French turned round from the blackboard. I was caught bang to rights.
“Right, that is it! Anne Matthews, since you seem incapable of paying attention in my lesson you will play no further part in it. Come to the front of the class.”
I dropped the stupid note onto my desktop, scraped back my chair and nervously approached the teacher, wondering what my fate would be. I half expected a few smacks to the back of my legs and to spend the rest of the lesson with my nose pressed against the corner. Unfortunately, I was only half right. My heart sank when I watched Miss French start rummaging in one of her desk drawers; obviously it was not just a hand that would be striking me.
I had resigned myself to the bitter tang of her old slipper when, to my horror, she reappeared with four safety pins. There was a murmur around the classroom. Wow, she was in a bad mood and I was paying for my classmate’s earlier escalation of that black cloud.
“Yes, I think a little trip to Mr Grey might improve your concentration in future classes. Now, hands on your head, girl!”
I wearily placed my hands on top of my short black hair like a little third former, my mind skipping ahead to the painful appointment I now had coming.
Miss French approached me and carefully proceeded to use the safety pins to fix each side of my short green pleated skirt to my white school shirt. In this way, my little white cotton panties were revealed, contrasting with the bare flesh of my plump thighs and the green, knee length socks we were forced to wear.
I already felt shame at standing in front of my whole class in my underwear, but I knew my humiliation would be complete after Mr Grey had finished with me.
Miss French then ordered me into the corner and I spent the rest of the lesson displaying my ample panty-clad backside to my peers whilst contemplating the wall one inch from my face and what was going to happen to me at 4.00 pm.
After the lesson when everyone had filed out, Miss French called me to stand in front of her desk. She started to write on a small piece of paper whilst talking to me.
“I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Anne, but I really cannot tolerate this lack of attention.”
When she finished the note, she folded it in two and stapled it shut. She then handed me my sentence and told me to report to Mr Grey’s office after my final lesson. I then re-joined the hurly burly of the school corridors between lessons, still in the rather humiliating attire of an upturned skirt and displayed panties. In the corridor, there were many unkind references to my coming treatment and also to the size of my slightly chubby thighs and bottom. I blushed at these acerbic references. At just 5feet 3 inches, I had grown out before I’d grown up. Monica apologised, but my fate was sealed.
I was more upset that my next lesson, the last one of the day, thank goodness, was with Mr Smith, whom I had a bit of a crush on. I was mortified that he would see me like this but I couldn’t risk getting caught removing the pins that Miss French had applied. As I entered the classroom, Mr Smith did indeed raise an eyebrow at my upside-down skirt, but mercifully he reserved his renowned wit for the lesson and saved me further blushes. I was very distracted during his lesson. I was constantly looking at the clock and thinking about what awaited me at 4.00 pm. Too soon, it was time to keep that appointment.
“Good luck,” said Monica as I left her in the corridor, but I could not respond.
I walked slowly to the administrative area clutching that accursed bit of white paper.
When I arrived, there were two other miscreants outside the Deputy Headmaster’s office. First in line was Jennifer. The upper sixth former was strikingly beautiful with long brown hair and obvious development in other areas. She also had her skirt pinned up and, seemingly a regular to this office, had removed her right pump, which she held in one hand, her own note in the other. She appeared nonchalant but was constantly fidgeting. Next to her was another upper sixth former, the equally beautiful Michelle. Michelle had long flowing blonde hair and was a favourite of all the boys. Just like Jennifer and me, her skirt was pinned up in that humiliating fashion. I recalled seeing her like this at lunchtime and surmised that she upset a teacher in the morning. That must have been quite a humiliation to take for someone like Michelle and her haughty reputation. She looked nervous as hell. Michelle had also removed her pump in preparation and so I followed suit. Our school pumps were a simple white design with a canvas upper and a hard rubber sole. As Mr Grey liked to demonstrate in these ‘meetings’ they could be quite an instrument of punishment, being both hard and flexible. There was also something terrible about being beaten with your own shoe. I was just happy that I had such small feet. We waited in silence and fear for about 10 minutes before the door flew open.
There was a “Hummph” from the tall figure of Mr Grey, as he looked us up and down.
His hand then shot and grabbed Jennifer’s ear. She yelled loudly as he dragged her inside by it, kicking the door shut with his leg. There then seemed to be a very long break. I looked at Michelle in anxiety but she was still ignoring me, a lowly fifth former. I wondered whether the large door to the office was perhaps shielding all noise of the punishment. These thoughts quickly vanished from my mind when a minute later there was a loud CRACK from the office. Considering it had come through the wall and door it seemed an unfeasibly loud noise to emanate from the simple application of a rubber sole to a schoolgirl’s posterior, but shortly afterwards there was another loud SLAP and I was under no illusion at the severity of the coming punishment.
The loud smacks continued for a couple more strokes and then the noise was matched by the shouts of anguish from Jennifer. After one particularly loud wail from Jennifer, I caught Michelle’s eye again. This time, she shot me a worried look and made a face. The barrier between our years had slipped a little while we awaited our shared fate. I lost count after 12 smacks but shortly afterwards the sounds stopped and then the door to the study opened and Jennifer sheepishly reappeared. Her pretty face was stained with tears and her cheeks flushed with emotion. She moved very slowly and was obviously in some pain, from her expression. Her panties had been pulled up into the cleft of her buttocks and, as she turned away from us, I gasped at the scarlet nature of her bottom and the backs of her thighs. They looked very sore indeed. She said not a word to us, did not even look at us, but bent over to replace her right pump.
This gave me an even better view of her punished ass and a wave of fear swept through my body as I contemplated receiving similar treatment. My stomach was in knots and I was convinced I could feel every goose-bump on my now super sensitive rear end.
I jumped in fright when Mr Grey barked: “Next!” from within his study.
However, it was Michelle who gulped and entered the study, closing the door behind her with an ominous thud.
Once her shoe was reattached, Jennifer immediately pressed her nose against the wall outside the office and put her hands on top of her head. She knew what she had to do and it was obvious from her behaviour that she did not want to give Mr Grey any excuse to inflict further pain on her rear end.
Whilst I waited nervously, all I could look at was the tomato red buttocks in front of me. I could not tear my eyes away from those tormented globes, and as I contemplated Jennifer’s bottom the cold feeling in my stomach grew.
Again there seemed a long delay before the first awful ‘SMACK’. To her credit, there were quite a few more ‘THWACK’s before we began to hear Michelle’s yelps of pain. However, once she started her cries grew louder and louder as again and again we heard the sound of rubber smacking schoolgirl flesh drift out of the office.
In profile, I could see Jennifer wince with every noise, her aching bottom must have lent her great empathy for Michelle’s predicament. Eventually the noise finished and a few minutes later the door slowly opened and Michelle reappeared. I got one sight of her punished behind and I turned away. I knew I was next and I was almost overcome with a desire to run away. I felt sick and I didn’t want to feel that sharp pain and I didn’t want to have to present my bottom in front of that awful man. Reason held my feet. If I ran now, my punishment would only be worse later. I had to accept my bad luck.
Michelle was gingerly stroking her bottom as she left the office. I glanced again; it looked so sore. A tear rolled down her pretty face, she had obviously felt a lot of pain from her spanking. Just like Jennifer, she didn’t even look at me but immediately replaced her white plimsoll and took her place next to the other sixth former, hands on top of her head and nose pressed against the wall. I now gazed at two punished bottoms, knowing mine would soon look like that.
I didn’t have to wait long. Mr Grey barked “Next!” and my time was up. I took a deep breath and entered the office.
The deputy headmaster was back behind his desk writing in a book. I closed the large oak door behind me and walked towards the desk. Mr Grey’s office was small and dark, with only a small window. The oak panelling round the walls gave the office a curious stuffy smell. As soon as it hit my nostrils I was reminded of my previous visit to his office. That memory did little to calm my nerves and I think I was even trembling by the time I came to stand in front of the teacher’s large desk.
He ignored me for a while whilst he continued to write stuff down. I was positively squirming by now. I knew I would soon be in a great deal of pain, but this waiting was almost as bad. There I stood with my skirt pinned up, my small plimsoll in one hand and a note in the other hand. I knew that note would determine how many stinging slaps I would receive, and my bottom felt so exposed and vulnerable, clad only in the thin cotton of my underwear.
Eventually, he looked up from his writing and gave me a sneering appraisal up and down.
“You girls really are preventing me getting any work done today. Give me the note from your teacher.”
I passed Miss French’s note to him and shifted my weight from one foot to the other nervously while I waited for him to finish reading it.
“So, you have an attention problem, then Miss Matthews? I trust I have your attention now?”
I mumbled a “Yes sir” as I wilted under his stern gaze.
“I’m glad I have your attention because I am going to tell you what is going to happen you. You will not be disrupting Miss French’s class again and I believe your memory of this afternoon will act as quite an aid to attention in future classes. In a moment, Miss Matthews, I will take that plimsoll that you have so kindly removed from your foot and use it to smack your bottom until you are a very sorry little girl indeed. How old are you?”
“Seventeen, sir,” I replied, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry.
“Your behaviour is more in keeping with a first year. I expect more from girls who have important exams at the end of the year. Now, I believe you have visited me before?”
I nodded. My knees felt weak and I was sick to the pit of my stomach. I almost wished he’d get on with it. My wish was granted; he stood up and held out his hand. I slowly passed my little pump over. He carefully placed the laces inside the shoe and then took a firm grip around the heel. He then stepped round to my side of the desk.
“Bend over girl, grab your ankles and keep those legs straight.”
I leant forward and gripped my ankles tightly. I had to spread my legs slightly to comply with the order to keep my legs straight. I was now fully aware of how tempting a target my large bum was.
The school rules specified that girls were allowed to keep their panties on for all punishments, but Mr Grey always pushed this definition to its limits. He hooked his fingers into the bottom of my panties and rudely pulled them right up into the crack of my buttocks. My face flushed with shame at the effective baring of my bottom in front of this man. A little foolish, really, considering that he probably saw schoolgirls in this position almost every day.
I then felt the rubber of my plimsoll being measured against my left buttock. I tensed my backside instinctively.
“Time to pay the piper,” menaced Mr Grey, and then he withdrew the plimsoll, paused for effect, and then brought it crashing back down on my bare flesh with devastating results. I almost shot upwards, my memory of the pain of a slippering from Mr Grey was woefully insufficient, it hurt like hell and, unlike Michelle and Jennifer, I yelped in pain from the first impact. It had landed square in the middle of my plump left bum cheek.
It seemed so unnatural to remain bent over, basically offering my bottom to be spanked. However, Mr Grey was notoriously intolerant of ‘jumpers’ and I did not want to extend my punishment.
The second wallop connected with my right cheek hard and I imagined that I now had matching red marks on my exposed bottom. Again he struck me, the noise sounded so loud and corresponded with a sharp pain in my bottom. The force of the blows were rocking me forward slightly as I tried to brace for the impact in my undignified position. It was so dreadful; there was that WHUMP first, then a sharp pain in my bottom that pulsed outwards and then back, until I could swear I could feel the imprint of the plimsoll on my ass. As the blows continued, my whole bottom started to throb, to me it felt like it was growing in size and shrinking four times a second. The pain was really starting to build, my shouts were getting louder and every fibre of my body was telling me to jump up, put a hand in the way, anything to stem that evil torrent of smacks. But still I remained bent over offering my sore bottom to Mr Grey for more whacks with the hard rubber sole of my own school pump.
My bottom started to numb from the blows; they were slightly less painful on impact now but the throbbing heat was really building. The deputy headmaster started landing blow after blow in the same spot on my cheeks. The pain rose exponentially and I shot up, twisting round and grabbed the outraged flesh in both hands. I look up pleadingly at Mr Grey; I could feel the tears running down my face. I couldn’t believe the severity of my spanking for this simple offence. He remained impassive as he held my plimsoll aloft.
“Back down this instant, young lady. You’ve just earnt yourself extra. That’s your last warning, too. Any repeat of this and I will not hesitate to follow this slippering with a dose of the cane. We can’t very well have indiscipline during a lesson in discipline.”
I turned away from him and slowly with my body shaking I bent over again. Against every natural feeling I was willingly exposing my sore bottom to the teacher again. Even the act of bending over increased the burning sensation in my backside. Mr Grey immediately walloped the slipper down again right on the same spot; it felt like the hardest smack yet. I was sure he was deliberately trying to get me to jump up again so he would have an excuse to use his infamous cane on me. I gripped my ankles with all my might, gritted my teeth and wailed at the top of my voice as the hard slipper smacks continued to thrash the plump flesh of my behind. Hot tears gushed down my flushed cheeks and onto the floor below me.
Then Mr Grey paused. I was a little confused but welcomed the respite. However it proved to be a false dawn since the next time the slipper landed it was across the puppy fat on the back of my thighs. The sudden new pain on virgin flesh had me yelping again, the sharp pain in my thighs contrasted with the hot throbbing pain in my bottom. Mr Grey lustily slippered the back of my legs from top to bottom.
Then there was another pause from my tormentor. I remained in position just moaning softly to myself.
Eventually he barked: “You may rise.”
I believe I detected a hint of disappointment in his voice. I lifted my body slowly upright; my whole lower body seemed swollen and throbbing. Mr Grey walked back behind his desk and I faced my punisher eye to eye, tears still rolling down my face.
He seemed pleased at my distress and was smirking as he proclaimed: “Now I hope that was an effective lesson for you, Anne. We won’t have any further disruption of lessons. The next time I see you in here I might well have to give you a reminder of what the cane feels like, regardless of the offence.”
He handed me back the plimsoll that had caused me so much agony.
“Now go and stand outside with those other two silly little girls. You know how to stand.”
Once outside the office, I bent over quickly to replace my betraying plimsoll. Just the act of stretching the scorched skin around my bottom again produced a fresh wave of pain and I slowed my movements. Once this task was completed, I took my place next to the shiny red bottoms of Michelle and Jennifer. I pressed my little button nose against the cool wall of concrete and placed my hands on top of my head. So there I stood as a well-punished schoolgirl, my spanked bottom still effectively bare in the public corridor. It was totally humiliating and the more the pain subsided the more I became aware of my position. Fortunately, the corridor was not a frequently used one since it only led to the administration area and the staff room. Visits from other pupils to see the punished girls were very rare after one girl was caught and spanked herself for coming down the corridor to gloat over a rival.
However, I did start to hear footsteps coming down the corridor and I glanced left down that way. I thought I was incapable of blushing further but fresh hot blood raced into my cheeks as I recognised Mr Smith casually walking down the corridor carrying a mug. I looked straight back at the wall again and closed my eyes in shame at the thought of my favourite teacher seeing my large, red and mainly bare bottom. The steps got louder and louder as they approached and then receded again down the other side of the corridor.
Did I imagine it, or was there a missed footstep as Mr Smith passed me? Was he lingering for a better look? There was a change in me at the moment, the pain in my bottom metamorphosed into an almost comforting warmth, like a warm blanket on cold skin. Then I realised who I was standing next to. It was more probable that the teacher had been unable to resist a second glance at the tight, high, and now scarlet bottoms of the two glamorous sixth formers snuffling tears next to me. But maybe, just maybe, it was my more rounded bottom that had attracted his eye. So there I was, standing with a sore and exposed bum, hands on head outside Mr Grey’s office, and what happened? A slow smile appeared on my face.
© Fetchslipper 2020