“Rebecca Williams, you will see me in my study at three-thirty this afternoon!”

I don’t think I will ever forget those words. Miss Corton, our headmistress, had come into the changing room at the worst possible moment, at least for me. I was with my best friend, Amy Willis, and we had been fooling around after all the other girls had left for home. We’d had a double games session and had played a typical game of hockey.

I’d been trying to pull Amy’s knickers down, and she had been doing the same to me. Unfortunately, in our excitement, Amy had fallen and banged her head against one of the wooden benches below the hooks for our clothes. Before I could help her up, Miss Corton, apparently alerted by the noise we were making, had caught Amy sitting on the floor rubbing her head and me standing over her.

We both explained, or tried to, that everything was in fun, but of course it did not look good, especially for me. All we could do was tidy ourselves up and go along to the dining hall for lunch.

News soon spread about us, especially me, being caught by Miss Corton and I was teased about what I could expect when I went to her study. Everyone seemed thrilled that I could well be facing a dose of the slipper, or even the cane. I tried to ignore all the taunts but, sitting through the afternoon lessons, I did start to fret about what might happen. I’d rarely been in trouble at school, certainly not with the headmistress involved, and hoped my previous good record might save me from punishment. But I had my doubts.

I was therefore extremely nervous as I approached our school secretary, Mrs Dodds, at just after three-twenty.

“I have to see Miss Corton at three-thirty,” I said as I stood in front of Mrs Dodds’ desk.

“So you do,” she replied, looking at the diary. “I hear you’ve been a bit of a naughty girl, Rebecca.” She smiled in an understanding way.

“I’m afraid so,” was all I could think of to say.

“Take a seat,” Mrs Dodds told me, pointing to the two chairs positioned against a side wall. “I won’t add ‘while you can still sit comfortably’.” Her smile broadened. Did she know Miss Corton’s intentions? I decided she was just gently ribbing me.

Just before three-thirty, Miss Corton’s door opened and she stood beckoning me inside. I followed, and waited while she seated herself behind her desk. I was left to stand in front of the desk feeling apprehensive.

“So, Rebecca. Messing around in the changing rooms when you should have been getting dressed and off to lunch? Leaving poor Amy with a bump on her head.”

“She’s okay, miss. I’ve been with her this afternoon.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Things would be a lot worse for you if she wasn’t okay.”

“Yes, miss.” I looked down. At least it sounded as though any punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

“However, you should have been getting dressed and off to lunch, not fooling around. Correct?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Oh Rebecca, what are we going to do with you?”

“I don’t know, miss.”

“I think a smacked bottom of some kind is in order, don’t you?”

I was caught off-guard completely. I mean, I was seventeen!

“I-I don’t know, miss.”

“I think a detention doesn’t seem right somehow. Perhaps if Amy hadn’t banged her head.”

My heart dropped. Without thinking, I put both hands behind my back. I watched as Miss Corton stood up and went across the room. She picked up a chair with an upholstered seat and backrest and brought it across near to where I stood. I pictured myself being told to stand behind it and bend over. For what? The slipper, I strongly suspected.

When Miss Corton sat down on the chair and beckoned me over, I was totally baffled about what she was going to do. As I approached, she took my left hand and guided me around so I was standing to the right of her. Keeping hold of my left hand, she then started dragging me across her lap.

I resisted, until she said, “Come along, Rebecca. Get yourself across my lap.”

Across her lap? She was going to spank me! Me, a seventeen year old, getting a spanking at my age? I thought quickly. It would be better than getting the cane. I’d be really scared if she even mentioned caning me. And I’d seen girls getting the slipper, and the way they rubbed their bottoms afterwards. I decided to let her pull me gently but inescapably across her lap. She was wearing a pleated grey skirt and her thighs felt warm and comfortable as she took my full weight.

But she hadn’t finished. Instead of feeling smacks applied across the seat of my skirt, she was pulling the zip at the side of my skirt down and then undoing the button at the top. I felt my skirt being slowly eased down, hampered by my weight as I lay across her lap. I lifted one hip and then the other to help her pull my skirt down and reveal my brief pink panties. Why did I help her do that? I’m not sure. I’d already settled on letting her spank me, so maybe letting her pull my skirt down wasn’t such a big deal.

Then I felt her hand at the waistband of my panties. Was she about to pull my panties down? That, I reckoned, was a step too far! I was about to protest, but instead she pulled the waistband up. I could feel the cold air on the lower parts of my bottom that were now exposed. I was going to be spanked mostly on my bare bottom, but this way somehow felt acceptable.

And then she spanked me. Mostly, her hand slapped my bare bottom, the lower regions not covered by my panties. Sometimes, her hand strayed onto my panties, but not often. The spanks stung, but I felt sure it was a lot more bearable than if she had used a cane on me, or maybe even a slipper. It was perhaps a bit less dignified than bending over her desk for a more conventional school whacking, but I’d take loss of formality over pain any time.

Despite my bottom becoming increasingly sore, I simply lay there, draped across her lap, and allowed myself to be spanked like a naughty child. I suppose I could have protested when I first realised what she was intending to do, but I had allowed myself to be pulled across her lap and it was too late now. I could maybe have put my hands back to cover my bottom, but I didn’t. Deep down, perhaps I felt I deserved to be punished and this was as good a way as any.

I didn’t count the number of spanks she gave me. I’d guess around fifty, and it hurt and left me feeling quite sore before she finally stopped.

“I think that will be sufficient, Rebecca.”

I felt my panties being pulled downwards so my bottom was mostly covered again.

“Up you get, Rebecca.”

It was a bit awkward getting off her lap, but I stood by her side, rubbing my bottom.

“A little unconventional, Rebecca, but I think you deserved a smacked bottom.”

“Yes, miss.”

It sounded like I was agreeing with her as I pulled my skirt back up and fastened the zip. Maybe I was.

The End

© Kenny Walters 2025