My name is Janet Jones and I have just fin­ished my first day as a Trainee Cor­rec­tion Offi­cer for the Female Judi­cia­ry Coun­cil. In our Female dom­i­nat­ed world this is the depart­ment that admin­is­ters alter­na­tive pun­ish­ment to errant males through the courts rather than send­ing them to prison.

I spent my first day in the job observ­ing Miss Sven­son who is high­ly regard­ed by the coun­cil in terms of her cor­rec­tive capabilities.…I now know why. I’ll nev­er for­get how she han­dled the first unfortunate†man who was sent to her office for cor­rec­tion. He knocked on the door ner­vous­ly and Miss Sven­son dressed in a sharp tight busi­ness suit com­mand­ed him to enter and to stand in front of her. He had a let­ter in his hand which he sheep­ish­ly hand­ed over. Miss Sven­son intro­duced me and informed†him that I would be observ­ing his pun­ish­ment as part of my train­ing pro­gramme. Open­ing the let­ter she read out the ver­dict of the court:

The defen­dant, Peter John­son, has been found guilty of acts against females name­ly grop­ing and pinch­ing bot­toms on the Lon­don Under­ground. He has been sen­tenced to 24 strokes of the strap; 12 strokes of the hair­brush; and unlim­it­ed addi­tion­al strokes at the dis­cre­tion of the cor­rec­tion officer.

“Well” said Miss Sven­son, “some­one is in for a very sore bot­tom! Shall we get started”.

She ordered him to unbut­ton his trousers and drop them to his ankles and marched him over to the high backed chair in the mid­dle of the room. She told him to bend over it with his head low and his bot­tom high in the air. I placed myself on a chair about 6ft away which gave me a great view of his back­side. Miss Sven­son then tucked her fin­gers into the waist­band of his box­ers and slow­ly pulled them down to his knees reveal­ing a very white bot­tom. She ran her fin­gers over his cheeks as she told him “You have a very nice bot­tom, per­fect for spank­ing, but I’m†afraid it is going to look and feel very dif­fer­ent by the time I’ve fin­ished with you. Your pun­ish­ment will hurt, you will cry and you cer­tain­ly won’t be able to sit com­fort­ably for a long while”

She walked across to a table and select­ed a short thick strap. She walked back over to John­son and ran the strap across his bum cheeks before tak­ing a cou­ple of paces back. She raised the strap above her head and brought it down as hard as she could. The room was filled with a loud crack, and a cry of “owwwwwww” and a vivid red mark appeared at the top of his left buttock.†Miss Sven­son raised her arm again and brought it down with anoth­er loud thwack. John­son kicked his legs and cried out as a bright red strap mark appeared at the top of his right but­tock. She repeat­ed the process anoth­er 22 times, slow­ly and method­i­cal­ly work­ing her way down his bot­tom to the top of his thighs leav­ing his entire back­side a mass of red welts.

Miss Sven­son gen­tly caressed his bot­tom say­ing “you took that well but let’s see how you get on with the sec­ond part of your pun­ish­ment”. She walked back over to the table and replaced the strap. She picked up a rather large wood­en bath­brush and slapped it against her hand before stroking it over his red hot bot­tom. “This time I am going to con­cen­trate on 2 parts of your bot­tom and let’s see how calm you stay then boy”.

She took a step back and brought the brush down hard on his left but­tock on the sen­si­tive area just above where the thigh and bot­tom meet. The sound was duller as the wood­en brush con­nect­ed with flesh, and the results were spec­tac­u­lar: a loud cry from John­son; kick­ing legs; and a dark brush shaped mark on his bot­tom. She raised the brush again and repeat­ed the process on the right side with the same results. I almost felt sor­ry for John­son as I looked at the state of his bot­tom, but then remem­bered what he had done.

Over the next 5 min­utes Miss Sven­son car­ried out the remain­der of the pun­ish­ment, each time bring­ing the brush down on the same area of John­son’s but­tocks. John­son was†shouting and kick­ing his legs wild­ly with all mod­esty for­got­ten, and his low­er bot­tom was look­ing very bruised and sore.…but still no tears.

Miss Svenson†again ran her hands over his bot­tom which†covered in deep marks and welts, and she had a look of deter­mi­na­tion in her eyes. She†told John­son to stand up, and then sat down on the chair before order­ing John­son over her knee. She asked me to fetch the oth­er hair­brush from the table. This was small­er than the bath­brush, but was thick­er and heav­ier, and as I hand­ed it to Miss Sven­son she had a smile on her face. She ran the brush over his bot­tom and told him:

“You are going to regret not cry­ing ear­li­er. I am going to spank you as†hard and as fast as I can for 2 min­utes and I Guar­an­tee that you will be cry­ing at the end of it. Janet can you come round to the front and hold his arms in place”

Miss Sven­son then pro­ceed­ed to do just that.†The hair­brush must have land­ed on John­son’s back­side over 100 times dur­ing those 2 min­utes. He kicked and screamed and after about 30 sec­onds the tears start­ed to roll down his cheeks. As the final vol­ley of spanks land­ed he was cry­ing like a baby and Miss Sven­son had a look of tri­umph on her face. She asked me to go to the table and fetch a jar of cream, and to rub it into John­son’s well spanked bot­tom. It was fiery hot to the touch and cov­ered in bruis­es and dark angry welts. It was then that it dawned on me that I was going to be able to do this to errant males in the future and a huge†grin appeared on my face as well.

I learned a lot from Miss Sven­son that day, and I will nev­er for­get Peter John­son and his well spanked bottom.

 

Car­o­line glanced over towards my desk and, on being sure Miss†Svenson was not look­ing, slipped me a note that I hur­ried­ly put in my pock­et. It had been two days since we had skipped Sci­ence with old Mrs Cartwright. She nev­er marked the role any­way. My mind went back to the 45†minutes
with Car­o­line. She was only a year old­er than me but she act­ed like she was five years old­er. I sus­pect a lot of her knowl­edge came from the books her broth­er Derek had under his bed but at the end of the day how she knew was not as impor­tant as the fact that she did.

45 min­utes is a long time when you are doing some­thing that you know will get you into seri­ous trou­ble if you are caught. We were already on a warn­ing after the for­mal ball evening where we did not get back till after three in the morn­ing. That had been close. Miss Sven­son seemed to know that some­thing had gone on but could not prove it, so it was dire warn­ings all round, a threat to call our par­ents and even the promise of a senior cane mak­ing it’s acquain­tance with our bottoms.

Miss Sven­son was the new Head and a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent ket­tle of fish to Mr Wil­son. Mr Wil­son had been there for over 23 years, he seemed only inter­est­ed in golf and left the dis­ci­pline side of things to his deputy who seemed to admin­is­ter deten­tions rather than can­ings. We had liked it like that. But Miss Sven­son was dif­fer­ent so I do not know what made me say ‘yes’ to Car­o­line and sneak out with her dur­ing school time. Even two days lat­er \I still shiv­ered with†either the excite­ment of the 45 min­utes or the fear of get­ting caught.

I fin­gered the note in my pock­et and glanced towards Car­o­line. There was that know­ing smile around the edge of her lips and her eyes twin­kled. ††She had said she would write and tell me what she want­ed next time, and she would go into detail!. The note almost felt hot in my pock­et and I could not wait to go to the loo to have a quick read.

But then came the words: James, please come to the front of the class this moment†and give me what­ev­er it was that Car­o­line just passed to you. I went†cold, the room went qui­et and even Car­o­line turned white. You could have heard a pin drop. James, I am wait­ing. Slow­ly I stood up, my mind rac­ing, did \I have anoth­er note in my pock­et, some­thing \I could exchange for the real thing. As I walked for­ward I knew I was in†serious trou­ble. I had no idea what the note said but \I knew it was not going to be good.

Miss Sven­son held her hand out.’ Hur­ry up boy’ she said, ‘I have not got all day. Slow­ly I hand­ed the note over. Miss Sven­son glanced at the note, her cheeks seemed to blush a lit­tle, and she took a sharp intake of breath.
Her next few†words seemed to echo around the room, again and again. ‘I will see you†and Car­o­line in my office after study time’. This time you have gone too far.

It was only 2pm, still an hour and 15 min­utes before the final bell and it seemed that every sin­gle per­son in the 5th form had heard the news. Why is that bad news trav­els fast and good news just mean­ders?. I tried to see Car­o­line at the lunch break but she was sur­round­ed by what seemed to me all the girls in the 5th†form. Just what had she writ­ten in that damn†note?. If Miss Sven­son’s† face was a† book I think I read the last three chap­ters of a nov­el where it had all gone wrong for the hero. She looked shocked sand her jaw had devel­oped that set look…the same kind of look she showed when the sixth for­m­ers were caught at the strip club just off the High street. No one knows to this day how it was that Miss Sven­son knew they were there but† it was in local folk­lore how she had sim­ply walked into the club and dragged the two out by their ears!

Why did Car­o­line not switch her mobile on?. Even a text would be a com­fort. All I could hear now were my ‘so called’ friends call­ing.… one thank you Maam,.…. two thank you Maam. All the†way to 12 and then falling about with laughter.Yeah…hilarious.!
My par­ents had decid­ed on a school that still prac­tised CP because they were ‘old school’. Always going on about how stan­dards had dropped and what the young gen­er­a­tion need­ed a was a dose of real­i­ty spelt C A N E.

Seemed ok at the time. I had nev­er even been spanked as a child. Not that I was a goody two shoes, but rather, that I had not been caught. All cold com­fort now as the real­i­sa­tion began to sink in.† Just what had she writ­ten on that note?. She had a fer­tile imag­i­na­tion, hands that knew exact­ly where to reach and lips that were soft like a ripe peach. But what had that note said? I shud­dered as my imag­i­na­tion ran down dark and dan­ger­ous roads.

Was there any­way I could get my hands on that note? Was that pos­si­ble?. Miss Sven­son had put the note in her hand­bag and that was in the staff room. The staffroom that was usu­al­ly ful­ly of teach­ers. Sud­den­ly my mind raced. The oper­a­tive word was ‘usu­al­ly’. There was a time that room was emp­ty but did I have the nerve to make that happen?

There was only one occa­sion when all the teach­ers cleared the room. It had hap­pened when O’Brien had been dared to break the fire alarm. He had been promised†a pack­et of cig­a­rettes. He was only 13 and there was no way he could fool the shop­keep­er he was 18. He was hard pressed to be seen as 13! So the fire alarm was worth the risk.†He does­n’t think so now of course. He was caught just a few hours lat­er behind the bike shed with half the cig­a­rettes gone and him look­ing very green in the face. It was only a mat­ter of a few min­utes and his oth­er cheeks were red!. No one had ever received 12 from the Head. And with the senior drag­on cane. O’Brien was heard yelling all the way down to the riv­er where tourists thought they were wit­ness­ing a murder.

I had to get to that note and make it dis­ap­pear. The Alarm was the only way. I would wor­ry after­wards about what Miss Sven­son would think. It was too much to hope that she would believe she had mis­placed the note if I could get it…†it but if she did not have the proof then there was a good chance noth­ing could be done. If any­one was in trou­ble it should be Car­o­line. I knew which alarm to break. The one just out­side the gym was out of sight, yet close enough to the back win­dow of the teach­ers room. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure I could pull it off. The trou­ble was, I was ready to believe any­thing. I had seen her face and hav­ing some idea of the things Car­line might have writ­ten I was absolute­ly sure that† I would not be sit­ting for a month if I did not get that note.

But I had to sur­vive the last les­son and in the 15 min­utes before we were due to meet Miss Sven­son† had to make it all hap­pen. It was going to be tight. My mind thought up and dis­missed a dozen options.†The†biology teacher was dron­ing on about††how far med­ical sci­ence had come and yet again was say­ing how well his replace­ment hip was work­ing. Bet­ter than the orig­i­nal and no one knew.

My ears pricked up. ‘Replace­ment’, and ‘no one knew’. It was a ‘Eure­ka’ moment and all of a sud­den I knew how I was going to get away with it. There was no need to steal the note at all. †This sto­ry was going to have a hap­py ending.†I smiled to myself. This was not going to be easy but it could work.

By the time I man­aged to get my heart rate down to some­thing resem­bling nor­mal­i­ty I had† moved from a’ Eure­ka moment’ to a plan. I would sim­ply get the fire alarm to go, wait till the staff room emp­tied, replace the orig­i­nal note with a new one and I’d be† free as a bird!. It was a mas­ter­ful plan. First things first. I now had but a few min­utes to write a replace­ment note. I had seen enough of Car­o­line’s writ­ing to copy her style. But what to say?

My dear James ( a good start I thought…her note would have said.…I can see your P…throbbing…well you get the idea) I write this note with more than a tinge of sad­ness. You are of course quite right. Our school­work must come first and much as I love you I know that study is so impor­tant. It is not every day that we have teach­ers of the cal­i­bre of Miss Sven­son and we must take advan­tage of it. So although my heart beats strong­ly for you I will put these feel­ings to the side. All my love Car­o­line xxx.

I read it back aloud. It was bor­der­ing on ‘over the top’ but it would fool Miss Sven­son. She loved stu­dents who stud­ied hard. It was her Scan­di­na­vian mind set. Rumour had
it she received her degree in geog­ra­phy before she turned 20 (on a side note…she does­n’t look 50)…must be the lack of sun?.

The moment had arrived. it was now a mat­ter of tim­ing. And it was going to be’ fine’ tim­ing at that. It was three min­utes past 3 and stu­dents were pour­ing out the door to go home and laugh­ter filled the hall­ways. Old Mr Williams, the care­tak­er, was on school cross­ing patrol. He loved that…dirty old bug­ger. Still , you take your thrills where you can at that age. The prin­ci­pal was in the music room get­ting ready for orches­tra prac­tice. She had been a flute play­er until the† Botox in her lips had gone a lit­tle wrong. Now they resem­bled half oranges. Almost a good look, but not quite.

It was the moment of truth.….I hit the alarm, and bells began to ring, stu­dents walked briskly to the near­est exit. They had prac­tised it enough times. The teach­ers did the same thing…out they came.….and thru the win­dow \I could see that they were all leav­ing, except† Miss Weaver. Bloody Miss Weaver, was it all going to come unstuck because of her? My heart began to race, the up she got and out she went. I had ‘but†moments’ in which to sneak into the room and work out which was Miss Sven­son’s bag. My hands were shak­ing but there it was…the offend­ing note. Just as \I was about to exchange the note \I heard a sound behind me. My heart stopped. All I could hear was the alarm ring­ing and it seemed as if time had skid­ded to a halt. Slow­ly \I turned around. But to my relief all I saw was a cur­tain flut­ter­ing in the open win­dow \I had used. Thank­ing stars \I did not know exist­ed I made the swap keep­ing my eyes on the flut­ter­ing cur­tain that had† got me going!…then I retreat­ed. I had done it!.…but some­thing did not feel quite right..

Job done!.Success. I had beat­en Miss Sven­son. There was no way I could now be caught and† pun­ished. The alarm was reset. The care­tak­er mut­ter­ing about yet anoth­er false alarm. The teach­ers mean­dered back into the staff room and \I found myself in the qui­et of the toi­lets. There was just one ques­tion to be answered. Just what had Car­o­line writ­ten that had made Miss Sven­son turn such a shade of green?.….I opened the note and to my hor­ror began to read† ‘My Dear James’,…I now†knew what I had not checked…oh shit.

 

Angela Jones B.A. Dip. Ed. looked over her steel rimmed spec­ta­cles at her class­room full of pupils and saw that once again Hen­ry Bak­er was try­ing to dis­tract one of the girls from her lessons by pulling sil­ly faces. Hen­ry, stay behind after class, I want to have a lit­tle chat with you, Miss Jones said in a loud enough voice to stop any more non­sense for the rest of that lesson.

She had been con­cerned about young Hen­ry for some time; he had, in the past been a help­ful and pleas­ant young man who was gen­er­al­ly pop­u­lar with both the pupils and the rest of the staff †but for the last few months he had been show­ing signs of going off the rails; late for lessons, star­ing out of the win­dows, †and even answer­ing back to teach­ers on occa­sion. †Miss Jones had spo­ken to him, tried rea­son­ing, explained that in the long term he might get into more trou­ble than he expect­ed and, if this behav­iour con­tin­ued, or even became worse, the school would have to seri­ous­ly con­sid­er hav­ing him removed. His par­ents, who were respectable, upstand­ing peo­ple, would be dev­as­tat­ed. While Hen­ry was being told this he appeared con­trite and apolo­getic but a day or two lat­er it would start all over again. She was fond of the boy and did not want to see him get­ting any deep­er into trou­ble than he already was. What was she to do for the best.„

Miss Jones made some enquiries among oth­er mem­bers of the staff and ascer­tained that his behav­iour was the same in the oth­er class­es as well. One of the teach­ers also said that she had seen Hen­ry hang­ing around the streets with some old­er boys who were known to be ëbad sort­sí and often egged on the younger boys to do bad deeds such as pet­ty shoplift­ing and dam­ag­ing plants in the park, activ­i­ties which could draw the atten­tion of the police and even the juve­nile courts. Miss Jones decid­ed that some­thing need­ed to be done.

Some­times, to her amuse­ment, some of the pupils asked Miss Jones to tell them about the old­en daysí, mean­ing her time at school when she was a child, which she was hap­py to do. This set her think­ing, what would they have done about young Hen­ry in the old­en days?

She knew that one can get almost any­thing one wants these days on the inter­net so she start­ed look­ing for that some­thing in par­tic­u­lar which she thought would help. She typed in her require­ments and watched as the many web­site sug­ges­tions came onto her screen. Most of them were quite unsuit­able, (did peo­ple real­ly get up to that sort of thing) and some were quite shock­ing. Thigh high leather boots! Exposed nip­ples! Good­ness me, no! But she per­se­vered and even­tu­al­ly (after hav­ing had a whole new world opened up to her) she came across one she thought might be suit­able. That same evening she sent an email to Miss Elsa Sven­son explain­ing the sit­u­a­tion and ask­ing if, per­haps, she, Miss Sven­son, might be able to help. Miss Jones went to bed that night hop­ing that the lady would answer positively.

The very next morn­ing there was an answer to her email say­ing that Miss Sven­son would be hap­py to see the young man and that she should send him along with a note explain­ing in more detail what, exact­ly, the prob­lems were which need­ed to be addressed.

Three days lat­er, on a bright Spring after­noon Hen­ry found him­self approach­ing a build­ing which looked as though it had once been a school. He was clutch­ing a let­ter from Miss Jones to be deliv­ered per­son­al­ly to Miss Sven­son, And donít you dare be late,î were the last words he heard as he was leav­ing school on a wel­come break from his usu­al Thurs­day after­noon lessons, this lit­tle adven­ture was much bet­ter than dou­ble maths. He rang the entry­phone buzzer and a pleas­ant female voice asked what he want­ed. He explained that he was here to deliv­er a let­ter and he was told to come in and giv­en direc­tions to the cor­rect door. He found it eas­i­ly enough and rang the bell.

A nice look­ing lady, smart­ly dressed and with blonde hair opened the door and told him to come in and to take off his shoes and jack­et, as he was doing this she was lock­ing the door and putting the key in the pock­et of her skirt. He thought this was odd but there is no account­ing for grown-ups. She ush­ered him into a room off the hall­way and said, You have some­thing for me?î Her voice was warm and friend­ly. He hand­ed her the enve­lope and was told to wait as she went into anoth­er room. As she was out he glanced around the room and saw that there was a plain chair in the mid­dle of the room and a sofa and an old arm­chair at the side; on the sofa were some imple­ments he was­nít famil­iar with, he was­nít sure what they were, there were some yel­low sticks and some things that looked like lit­tle oars or pad­dles and a slip­per. For rea­sons he could­nít explain he start­ed to get an uneasy feel­ing. He felt a lit­tle faint so he sat down on the near­est chair. The lady came back into the room and said, in a voice which was much sharp­er than pre­vi­ous­ly, Have you been invit­ed to sit down?î He was con­fused by this so he stood up. ìI think that you and I have some seri­ous talk­ing to do. She sat on the plain chair and beck­oned for him to come and stand beside her, which he did. She reached out to his waist­band and with­in sec­onds had his belt undone and his trousers half way down his legs, she pulled on his arm and he stum­bled and fell across her lap. She put one hand on the back of his head and held it there. Hen­ry strug­gled and kicked and wrig­gled but he was held down. She let him strug­gle for a lit­tle while and when he start­ed to slow down she gave him three very sharp smacks on his bare bot­tom. They stung and he start­ed to strug­gle again but it was in vain, he start­ed to hear her voice com­ing to him from a great dis­tance and his heart felt like it was pump­ing out of his chest.

…you will be still and you will lis­ten to what I have to say. If you calm down and take what is com­ing to you this will all be over a lot more quick­ly. If you make a sil­ly fuss the same things will hap­pen but it will take longer and be more severe. Is that understood?î He did­nít know what to say so he thought it safer to say nothing.

Wrong!

Smack! Smack! Is that understood?

Yes Miss.

Good. Stand up.

He stood up, and waited.

Now, I have here a let­ter from your teacher telling me all about what you have been up to and I am not going to allow it to con­tin­ue. Is that understood?

He knew bet­ter this time. Yes Miss.

Go and stand in that cor­ner while I get things arranged.

Oh God! What was she going to do now? Per­haps he could make a run for it but he had seen her lock the door and the key was in her skirt pocket.

He turned briefly to see what she was doing. Did I say you could turn around? Come here. Bend over.î She pushed on the back of his neck and he went for­ward, his trousers were still half way down his legs, she reached out side­ways and got hold of that oar shaped thing and hit him quick­ly, six times on his bot­tom. He yelped.

Now, go and do as I say. Noth­ing more and noth­ing lessî.

He was back in that cor­ner in no time.

What hap­pened after that is all a bit of a blur in his mind but she read some­thing from the list that was in the note she held in her hand.

Miss Jones says that you have been late for lessons three times in the last fort­night, for that I am going to give you eight strokes of the pad­dle. Oh, so the oar shaped thing had a name, thought Hen­ry. Bend over and grip your anklesî. The first stroke shocked him with its sting and he almost jumped up but man­aged to stop him­self, he had found out what hap­pens when you donít do what Miss Sven­son tells you to do. With each stroke Miss Sven­son told him that being late for lessons was a very bad idea and it would do him no good in the future if he was to fall behind in his lessons. Each stroke stung more than the pre­vi­ous one and he was­nít sure that he could stay down but stay down he must and stay down he did. After the eighth stroke she stopped. Hen­ry straight­ened up and start­ed to rub his poor, painful bottom.

I donít remem­ber telling you to stand up, nor do I remem­ber telling you that you could rub your bot­tom. Four more strokes for dis­obe­di­ence. Bend over again.

Oh no! It was so unfair. Smack. Smack and two more smacks. His knees were weak he was going to stum­ble and fall then he heard her voice say­ing in more gen­tle tones, Alright, you may stand up now.

Gin­ger­ly, Hen­ry straight­ened up remem­ber­ing that she had not giv­en him per­mis­sion to do any­thing else.

Go back to the cor­ner and think about what your actions have made it nec­es­sary for me to do. Put your hands on your head and keep them there until I say otherwiseî.

Hen­ry con­cen­trat­ed on keep­ing still and grad­u­al­ly felt the pain start to recede slight­ly as the min­utes ticked by. He could hear Miss Sven­son mov­ing around the room behind him but he did not dare to turn round.

At last she said, ìCome here. Her voice was soft­er, more gen­tle and Hen­ry realised that there were warm salt tears on his cheeks. He turned round and saw Miss Sven­son though tear filled eyes, she was stand­ing by the old arm­chair near the win­dow. As he approached she said , ìIt gives me no plea­sure to have to do this but many peo­ple are con­cerned about you and do not want to see you led astray by old­er, more uncouth boys. We have only your best inter­ests at heart and will do what­ev­er is nec­es­sary to get you back on the straight and nar­row. Some­times you have to be cru­el to be kind in the longer termî.

Hen­ry found that the tears in his eyes could no longer be held back and the salty metal­lic taste in his mouth became stronger as he sobbed.

ìI am going to fin­ish off with six strokes of the cane and then I will try to com­fort you and explain why you must change your ways before it is too late.

ìBend over the back of the chair and do not move exces­sive­ly or I will repeat the pre­vi­ous stroke, I can, and will, con­tin­ue to do this until you get it right.

Hen­ry mis­er­ably did as he was told and thought it odd that it was the words of con­cern and kind­ness rather than the harsh words of admon­ish­ment which caused the flood­gates to open and caused him to cry uncontrollably.

He felt four light taps and realised with some hor­ror that she was gaug­ing her dis­tance. The first stroke made him gasp and he could­n’t believe the pain. He held on to the edge of the chair with white knuck­les and grit­ted his teeth. The pain did­n’t actu­al­ly get any worse with the next five strokes but it last­ed longer. Miss Sven­son was­nít speak­ing, she was con­cen­trat­ing on what she had to do. Then it stopped. He stayed in posi­tion for some time† until he heard her say, Now, stand upî, and she came to him and held him gen­tly, all the time telling him that every­thing was going to be alright just as long as he went back to how things used to be. Hen­ry’s sobs were mak­ing his body shake and shud­der and he hoped his tears were not stain­ing Miss Sven­sonís cloth­ing. As his sob­bing sub­sided he realised that he did­nít real­ly enjoy all that hang­ing about with those rougher boys and that what he real­ly want­ed was the approval of Miss Jones and, even more sur­pris­ing­ly, he found that he also want­ed the approval of Miss Sven­son. He want­ed her to like him.

Miss Sven­son held the note between her fin­ger and thumb and delib­er­ate­ly dropped it. Hen­ry watched as it flut­tered down like an Autumn leaf and land­ed on the floor as though it were the sym­bol of some­thing that was over and done with.

A few days lat­er Miss Sven­son received an email which said, ìThank you for see­ing Hen­ry the oth­er day, I donít know what went on between you two but he has been unchar­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly qui­et for the last few days, as though he is mulling some­thing over. I will mon­i­tor his behav­iour over the next two or three weeks to see if he needs a return visit.

I hope you are enjoy­ing this beau­ti­ful Spring weather.

With warm regards,

Angela Jones (Miss)

 

 

I sat ner­vous­ly lis­ten­ing to Miss Sven­sonís sum­ma­ry of my first week as her lodger. It was Fri­day after­noon and some rules had been broken.
You have repeat­ed­ly left your dirty cof­fee cups in the lounge, she said qui­et­ly, This is in breach of the house rules as you are aware. Is it so hard to take a cup into the kitchen and place it in the sink? After all Iím not expect­ing you to wash it. Now stand up, take down your trousers and get over my kneeî, she ordered.
I had only been a res­i­dent in Elsa Sven­son’s house for a lit­tle shy of a week. The rent was rea­son­able, but I did have to agree to a set of house rules that were pre­sent­ed to me. Any breach of these rules would result in cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment being admin­is­tered. I had a choice to accept her terms or look else­where. I decid­ed that although some of the rules could be con­sid­ered dra­con­ian, I could avoid chas­tise­ment with­out too much effort. After all where else would I find a room in North Lon­don for £55 a week.
The terms were clear. All offences would be not­ed and cor­rec­tion applied on a Fri­day afternoon.
As I stood and unfas­tened my jeans, I won­dered why she had not men­tioned the cof­fee cups dur­ing the week. Instead she just cleared them away with a smile. I must remem­ber to go through the list of rules after my spank­ing. Miss Sven­son† drew back her skirt, reveal­ing her stock­ing tops.  At least the view was good, I thought to myself.
SMACK, the first blow was firm but quite bear­able and I sud­den­ly felt reas­sured that this pun­ish­ment would be tol­er­a­ble, espe­cial­ly since I had the pro­tec­tion of my under­pants. The spank­ing con­tin­ued for a while.  Miss Sven­son spanked slow­ly but rhyth­mi­cal­ly and after a few min­utes placed her fin­gers in the waist­band of my under­pants. Oh Oh. She con­tin­ued to spank my now bared bot­tom in that slow man­ner and I began to feel the effects. Dur­ing the dis­ci­pline Elsa explained how she did­nít enjoy pun­ish­ing me but it was her duty to enforce the rules and it had to be done. ìyes Maíamî was all I could mut­ter.  When she pulled my undies back up, I realised that the spank­ing was over. I could live with that, I thought, ìit was not any­where as bad as I had ini­tial­ly imagined.
Stand up and pull up your trouser­sî, she said. Great — trousers up, pun­ish­ment over. I sat back down on the sofa.
Miss Sven­son smiled, ìthe next breach was talk­ing dur­ing Eas­t­en­ders, I’ll be back in a minute
What kind of rule was that, I thought, talk­ing dur­ing Eas­t­en­ders, I remem­ber her telling me to shh­hh at the time, but who watch­es that garbage any­way  Miss Sven­son apparently.
She walked back in the room flex­ing a cane in her hands. Things were look­ing dire, she must real­ly be a fan. I am now going to give you six strokes of the cane, please stand up, drop your trousers, bend over and grab your ankles.
I obeyed, won­der­ing why on earth I agreed to this in the 1st place and remind­ing myself for a sec­ond time to read through the rules. THWWACK, the pain was unbear­able, that Elsa must be a ten­nis play­er or some­thing. Ten sec­onds must have passed before the sec­ond stroke land­ed, she does like to take her time. I man­aged to endure the can­ing and hoped that that would be the end. But alas, it was­n’t. I had to go over Miss Sven­son’s knee a sec­ond time for a spank­ing on my welt­ed bot­tom with a slip­per, fol­lowed by a strap­ping on my poor bare bot­tom. But in true mean fash­ion she saved the worst for last. Twelve strokes of that dread­ful cane ñ the first six across my under­pants, then she low­ered them and applied anoth­er six on the bare. Every time I had hoped it was over after being told to pull up my trousers. But it con­tin­ued. The only respite came between each ìsen­tenceî being car­ried out which I was thank­ful for. Miss Sven­son nev­er raised her voice and was extreme­ly calm dur­ing the entire episode and claimed that she real­ly did­nít want to give me a thrash­ing but I did deserve it so she had to fol­low it through. Although she did seem very good at it and I do get the feel­ing she enjoyed blis­ter­ing my behind. Any­way, tomor­row ís Fri­day, so letís hope I have improved.
The End.

 

Richard nev­er worked hard at school but he could have done and passed many exams quite eas­i­ly but he chose to be lazy instead† often copy­ing oth­er boys exam papers or cheat­ing by steal­ing the mas­ters answer papers, today though was going to be dif­fer­ent because he was going to be caught red­hand­ed in the act of gross mis­con­duct. The class­room was qui­et the mas­ter had popped out to the play­ground to have a cig­a­rette and left as he thought the boys all work­ing very hard on a maths test how­ev­er Richard had dif­fer­ent ideas as soon as the mas­ter Mr Williams had gone Richard rushed to the front of the class and looked in his brief­case for all the answers to the test so he could cheat on every­one and get 100% cor­rect answers great idea he thought as he made his way back to his desk and start­ed to read a com­ic as all the oth­er boys worked try­ing to get the sums right unfor­tu­nate­ly for Richard

Mr Williams had been watch­ing this though the class­room win­dow where he could not be seen by the boys and was furi­ous at what he saw, he rushed in to the class­room hold­ing a strap in his hand no Richard this is not for you lad you need the can­ing of a life time and that is†what you are going to get from Miss

Sven­son the head­mistress you lazy boy and with that he took Richard by the ear and led him upstairs to the head­mistress­es study where he explained in detail what he had seen though the window†the head­mistress was shocked and Miss Sven­son went to a locked cup­board on the real wall of the study and removed her largest and longest cane in her armoury, take down your trousers and under­pants boy she said and bend your­self over that†desk to expose your bare bottom†I am going to give you twelve of the best†and maybe more tomor­row after assem­bly in the great hall if you don’t behave prop­er­ly and take this like a man† do you under­stand Richard? yes miss he replied  and await­ed the first stroke of the cane to bite into his bot­tom he did­n’t have to wait long there was a loud hiss of the cane and down it came  caus­ing a very sharp pain with an intense sting in Richard’s rear end which he disliked†and let out a huge howl shut up†the head­mistress said† this is only the first stroke your’e bot­tom will be much red­der after the next few strokes have land­ed on tar­get and push your head well down so that your bot­tom is uppermost†in our minds as†I want a good tar­get to aim for.

Richard was not enjoy­ing this treat­ment at all his face pressed†onto a hard wood­en desk and his bare bot­tom well pre­sent­ed and arched for the head­mistress to hit when­ev­er she felt like bring­ing down the stick  he was wish­ing he had nev­er cheat­ed in the first place but now it was too late to turn the clock back he would have to injure the pain of a real can­ing so rich­ly deserved and with the agree­ment and sup­port of his par­ents who had been phoned pri­or to the can­ing for their approval, a few more strokes and the pain was unbear­able in his bot­tom† he also want­ed to cry but bit his lip in an effort to stem the pain com­ing from the nasty invad­er who was vis­it­ing his bot­tom now every two sec­onds or so how could he hold out†much longer prob­a­bly not, tears where already in his eyes now but the head­mistress car­ried on regard­less† until all strokes had been admin­is­tered and Richard would apol­o­gise and amend his ways for good

 

 

It was with some trep­i­da­tion that I climbed the stairs to Miss Sven­son’s classroom.

Hav­ing long har­boured the fan­ta­sy of being dis­ci­plined by a female author­i­ty fig­ure, I was both excit­ed and more than a lit­tle nervous.

 

Doubts start­ed to creep in; I won­dered if I could indeed live with­out the real­i­ty and just leave it as a love­ly fantasy.

 

The feel­ings went back a long way, back to my junior school days.

 

That was when Miss Dakin had made me stand on that chair for dis­rupt­ing her class.

 

Miss Dakin had always been far stricter with the boys than with the girls. Sev­er­al of my male class­mates who had been in my cur­rent posi­tion, had then been kept back after class to expe­ri­ence the painful delights of Miss Dak­in’s strap and/or slipper.

 

Often this was car­ried out whilst the boy was strad­dled across Miss Dak­in’s lap. And, if I am being total­ly hon­est, I also longed to be across her lap.

 

So while I stood there on the chair, my legs felt like jel­ly. But I was also excit­ed in a strange way that I had nev­er expe­ri­enced before, antic­i­pat­ing being tak­en across Miss Dak­inís lap and spanked for the first time in my life.

 

But after the class had been dis­missed and I was still stand­ing on†the chair, Miss Dakin sim­ply called to me you can go now Kevin, but don’t dis­rupt my class again because I won’t be so lenient next time What a dis­ap­point­ment that was !

 

But letís get back to Ms Svenson.

 

As we climbed the stairs I kept think­ing ìdo I real­ly need this, sure­ly I can live with­out know­ing what this feels like?.

 

But the soft swish of Miss Sven­sonís skirt and the clip of her heels on the stairs were quite com­fort­ing and they made me think again..I mean she’s only a petite lady, so how much could it hurt, itís going to be such great fun.

 

We had agreed before the ses­sion that Miss Sven­son would be in charge of a sce­nario based around the old tra­di­tion of six of the best I would be the obnox­ious school­boy who had been warned sev­er­al times before about his behaviour.

 

Miss Sven­son, of course, would be the strict head­mistress at the end of her teth­er. Final­ly she has decid­ed that cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment is the only way for­ward for this out of con­trol pupil.

 

As soon as we entered the room, Miss Sven­son point­ed to the cor­ner and said go and stand in that cor­ner boy, fac­ing the wall, and with your hands on your head, and be silent !

 

Stand­ing in the cor­ner, still not sure of what I had got myself into, I could hear Miss Sven­son read­ing the note I had pre­pared, out­lin­ing my many wicked misdeeds.

I could hear her ìtut­tingî and the sound of her tap­ping her fin­ger­tips on her desk in frus­tra­tion and grow­ing anger.

 

I stood there think­ing She actu­al­ly sounds quite annoyed.I hope she remem­bers that this is all just role play.

 

Then I near­ly jumped out of my skin as she said loud­ly  Come here boy ! stand in front of my desk !

 

As I stood to atten­tion in front of Miss Sven­sonís desk, she looked up at me and said ìstand up straight boy, no slouch­ing in my officeî She then con­tin­ued to read the note.

 

I could hear her mut­ter­ing under her breath. tut tut, play­ing tru­ant, smok­ing on school premis­es, inso­lent to teach­ers, run­ning in school cor­ri­dors dear, oh dear..

 

Well boy , and what do you have to say for yourself?!

 

Er.dunno Miss, but it wonít hap­pen again Miss, I said, rather weakly.

 

I have a way of mak­ing you remem­ber to behave boy !

 

She stood up quick­ly and walked over to a cup­board mount­ed on the wall, which she unlocked with a key that she had tak­en from her desk draw.

 

Have you seen what’s in this cab­i­net before boy?

 

No Mis­sî I replied.

 

Then from the cup­board she took out a very long and ter­ri­fy­ing­ly thick cane.

 

I know that my eyes widened into saucers when I saw it.I did­n’t remem­ber the canes that I saw at school hav­ing looked half as fear­some as this one.

 

Bend for­ward over my desk boy and stand on your tip toes as well

 

I did as I was told and won­dered, once again, what I had got myself into.

 

Now, I am going to admin­is­ter 6 strokes of the cane to your bot­tom, and I want you to remain still through­out the pun­ish­ment. If you move out of posi­tion or try to rub your bot­tom before I have fin­ished, youíll get extra strokes, is that all under­stood boy?

 

I gulped and said Yes miss

 

Excel­lent, you will also count out each stroke loud­ly , and in a clear voice, and you will thank me for each stroke as well so you will say.One, thank you Miss, Two, thank you Miss is that understood?

 

This was start­ing to sound a lit­tle wor­ry­ing, but I said Yes Miss

 

Good, right we havenít got all day so letís get this over and done with shall we boy?

 

Er.o.k.Miss

 

Miss Sven­son tapped the cane on my behind. I thought ìwell this is alright, I don’t know what I was wor­ried about, I hard­ly felt that

 

I said loud­ly One, thank you Miss ì

 

Miss Sven­son laughed out loud, don’t be sil­ly boy, Iím just get­ting ready to give you the first stroke, I was just tap­ping the cane on your behind to pre­pare myself

 

OhI said, and then ìOwwwî as the cane land­ed with a loud thwack right across both cheeks of my backside.

 

It felt like some­one had laid a red hot pok­er on my bum cheeks and left it there.I jumped up and danced around shout­ing wouch..oohhhh and rub­bing my back­side for all I was worth.

 

Miss Sven­son stood there with much amuse­ment glint­ing in her eyes as she said ìOh dear, much as I am enjoy­ing your lit­tle dance Kevin, itís just earned you two more strokes..

 

Get­ting back to busi­ness, Miss Sven­son said..back into posi­tion now boy, you have anoth­er 7 strokes to enjoy

 

As my back­side slow­ly eased a lit­tle, I con­sid­ered mak­ing a run for it or ask­ing Miss Sven­son if I could be excused, but that would have been a cop-out. So I duti­ful­ly bent back down over the desk to await the next stroke.

 

Haven’t you for­got­ten some­thing Kevin? said Miss Sven­son did I not ask you to count the strokes?

 

Oh yes, sor­ry Miss, One thank you miss I replied.

 

Good boy,I’ll let you off this time, but donít for­get to count again or I WILL add more strokes onto your punishment

 

The next five strokes were no eas­i­er than the first, but I man­aged to stay in posi­tion and I remem­bered to count (I did­n’t dare to forget)

 

After the six strokes Miss Sven­son said I could stand up, which I did gratefully.

 

Now then, you took those last five very well, but we still have two to go

 

Yes Miss I said as start­ed to bend down again.

 

 

No Kevin, the extra strokes that I award are han­dled a lit­tle dif­fer­ent­ly. Take down your trousers and then bend back over the desk

 

Er..is that real­ly nec­es­sary Miss, I mean it hurts a lot even with trousers on?

 

Miss Sven­son asked in an amused tone And just who is in charge here Kevin?

 

So, I start­ed to undo my trousers and turned again towards the desk as a thought came into my mind. I had­nít antic­i­pat­ed this and I could­nít remem­ber which under­pants I had on. I had a hor­ri­ble feel­ing that it might be a pair of nov­el­ty ones that had been agift from a friend of mine, they are more or less cov­ered in images of naked women.

 

The thought of Miss Sven­son whack­ing her cane on these brazen­ly sex­ist images filled me with dread. She would be real­ly annoyed to see these images and maybe the next two strokes would be a lot hard­er as a consequence.

 

But I was com­mit­ed to this and so I dropped my trousers and bent over the desk.

 

After a long pause Miss Sven­son said Those are very inter­est­ing under­pants Kevin..

 

Er yes Miss, I’m real­ly sor­ry Miss, I had­n’t realise that you would want me to drop my trousers, I would have worn some­thing more appro­pri­ate if I had known

 

ìYes well, I canít pos­si­bly use my cane on those ladies, it would be high­ly dis­re­spect­ful to themî

 

I heaved a sigh of relief as I realised I was about to be let off the two extra strokes.

 

No, we can’t have that, so you had bet­ter drop your under­pants as well Kevin

 

As I lay there across Miss Sven­son’s desk I could hard­ly believe what I had just heard so I said ìIím sor­ry Miss, did you say that I have to drop my pants as well?

 

That’s right noth­ing like a bare bot­tom can­ing from a woman to improve a boy’s respect for the fair­er sex, and I think weíll add two more strokes as pun­ish­ment for show­ing such dis­gust­ing dis­re­spect to women

 

I gulped as I stood up, dropped my under­pants, and bent back over the desk. I know I had asked for this, but I real­ly was­n’t look­ing for­ward to it. But to back out now would have been cow­ard­ly and it would have shown me up in Miss Sven­son’s eyes.

 

I felt very noble as I wait­ed for my pun­ish­ment, I knew I was doing the right thing.

 

I felt like that right up until the first stroke on my bare behind..

 

wwww­c­c­c­ch­h­h­h­hh..! I screamed as my behind explod­ed with pain.

 

That’s what I like to hear Kevin, Iíll make you sing a lot more notes like that before I let you go home.. keep it up my lad.. laughed Miss Svenson.

 

THE END

 

 

As the own­er of a build­ing com­pa­ny I, Neil Casey, had been con­tract­ed to ren­o­vate & build some new class­rooms at the local boys school which iron­i­cal­ly is the same one I attend­ed many years ago. It was a bright and sun­ny Mon­day morn­ing when work com­menced and I was intro­duced to the Head­mistress a delight­ful, smart­ly dressed and very attrac­tive lady named Miss Elsa Sven­son. Whilst going over some paper­work in her study and being invit­ed to stay for morn­ing tea I com­ment­ed on how many times as a stu­dent I had been sent to the very same study to see the Head­mistress Mrs. John­son to receive cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment. And that over the years this had gone from an over the knee spank­ing, to a strap­ping before pro­gress­ing as a senior boy to receive the cane. I was aston­ished, but very pleased to hear from Miss Sven­son that CP was still in oper­a­tion and that she had intro­duced a sys­tem where­by a teacher would give the boy a coloured slip of paper with their offence writ­ten on it. After class the boy then had to report to the Head­mistress with the slip. A pink slip rec­om­mend­ed an over the knee spank­ing, a yel­low one a strap­ping, and a red one was for the cane which was usu­al­ly reserved for senior boys. And woe betide the boy who brought mul­ti­ple coloured slips as they knew they were tru­ly in for it when the Head­mistress was fin­ished with them! As I sat there lis­ten­ing to Miss Sven­son’s sto­ries & descrip­tions of her dis­ci­pline of these boys I was trans­port­ed back in time and was over Mrs. John­son’s stur­dy knee receiv­ing one of her leg­endary hard hand spank­ings on the bare bot­tom, and embar­rass­ing as it seems I actu­al­ly miss her dis­ci­pline and have to admit that at the moment I could ben­e­fit from a good spank­ing to help relieve my stressed filled life. In any case it was time to return to work so we agreed to meet each Fri­day after­noon and I would pro­vide Miss Sven­son with an update on how work was pro­gress­ing. I found that I was more than just a bit intrigued by this love­ly lady and dur­ing the week I was able to find out more about Miss Sven­son from the teacher’s & stu­den­t’s. This showed me that she was high­ly regard­ed by all as an intel­li­gent, strict but fair Head­mistress, who had brought a com­mon sense approach to deal­ing with var­i­ous mat­ters and the stan­dard of the school had risen dra­mat­i­cal­ly dur­ing her five years here.

The fol­low­ing Fri­day after­noon I walked along the emp­ty cor­ri­dors past the now qui­et class­rooms as school had been dis­missed and pleased that build­ing work had been going along very well. As I approached the study of the Head­mistress I could hear a rhyth­mic slap­ping sound. I stepped qui­et­ly towards the door of the study which was slight­ly ajar and peer­ing through the gap I could see Miss Sven­son seat­ed in a straight back chair in front of her desk and over her knee was a boy being sound­ly hand spanked on his bare bot­tom. I could see that his trousers had been removed and his shirt had been neat­ly fold­ed up at the back by the Head­mistress, which meant that he was bare all the way down to his under­pants which were dan­gling help­less­ly around his knees. He was solid­ly built and was squirm­ing around on her lap and kick­ing his legs but could­n’t escape the vice like grip of the Head­mistress who held him firm­ly across her knee with her left arm across his back whilst her firm right hand admin­is­tered a very sound spank­ing. Unlike Mrs. John­son who used to only spank the mid­dle sec­tion of each cheek of your bot­tom so that you end­ed up with two red blotch­es, Miss Sven­son was obvi­ous­ly an expe­ri­enced spanker as I observed her method of spank­ing every square inch of bare bot­tom with a pat­tern which was repeat­ed over & over. Begin­ning high on the left cheek then high on the right, then mid­dle left, mid­dle right, low­er left, low­er right fol­lowed by three spanks pro­gress­ing up the cen­tre of the bot­tom cheeks before the pat­tern was repeat­ed over & over which turned the entire bot­tom into a healthy glow of pinky red. As she admin­is­tered the spank­ing Miss Sven­son scold­ed the boy for his naughty behav­iour and threat­ened him with the cane if he did­n’t improve. I stood in awe, trans­fixed at the way this Head­mistress admin­is­tered a sound spank­ing by her firm hand, and I found that my heart was thump­ing and I so much want­ed to swap places with him. After I could bear it no more I qui­et­ly retreat­ed to the near­by toi­lets and splashed some cool water across my blush­ing hot facial cheeks.

Before return­ing to the study I went into one of the class­rooms to fur­ther com­pose myself with deep breath­ing and think­ing quick­ly I searched through the teacher’s desk and found the coloured pun­ish­ment slip’s. Select­ing a pink one I placed it in the fold­er with my paper­work and after anoth­er deep breath I returned to the study of the Head­mistress. Knock­ing loud­ly I entered upon hear­ing the com­mand “Come in!” from Miss Sven­son. After a greet­ing I sat down at the desk with Miss Sven­son and out of the cor­ner of my right eye I could see the boy who had just been pun­ished stand­ing in the cor­ner with his hands placed firm­ly on his head. Dur­ing our dis­cus­sion I chanced a full glance at him and could see that his bare bot­tom was glow­ing red and I thought to myself “I bet he’s dying to rub it all over but if Miss Sven­son caught him, he’d be bend­ing over for the cane, and after all, when it comes down to it, it’s all about dis­ci­pline”. If any­one had received a smacked bot­tom then it was cer­tain­ly him. No men­tion was made of him whilst I dis­cussed the week’s build­ing work with her, and around half way through the dis­cus­sions I sud­den­ly realised that I was sit­ting in the very same chair that Miss Sven­son had just admin­is­tered the sound spank­ing I had wit­nessed and my heart began to thump again. Sum­ming up enough courage, as I stood to leave I said to Miss Sven­son “I’m hop­ing there’s one thing that you can help me with?” “Ohh and what’s that Mr. Casey?” she replied. With my heart thump­ing almost out of my chest I took the pink slip out of my fold­er and placed it on the desk right in front of her and said qui­et­ly “Head­mistress this is much need­ed and long over­due”. Casu­al­ly lean­ing back in her chair Miss Sven­son looked at me over the top of her read­ing glass­es, and a wry smile came across her face. I felt like she was lick­ing her lips at the prospect of spank­ing across her knee a grown man who’d been a pre­vi­ous stu­dent at the school. The boy was quick­ly dis­missed from the study with Miss Sven­son warn­ing him again about his behav­iour before lock­ing the door and turn­ing her eyes upon me. Miss Sven­son said “Mmm, I see that it appears it’s time for me to get right to the bot­tom of the prob­lem with a no non­sense approach!” Dry mouthed & heart thump­ing, I stam­mered out a reply of “Iitt ccer­rtainnly iss Misss Svennssonn”. I could feel her ice cool stare in the back of my head as she walked around the back of me. I had the feel­ings of mixed emo­tions. On the one hand I want­ed to make a dash for the door and flee the scene, and on the oth­er I knew that if I backed off I would nev­er for­give myself for miss­ing out on a gold­en oppor­tu­ni­ty. Miss Sven­son qui­et­ly told me to remove my shoes, trousers, tie & jack­et and place them neat­ly on the sofa besides the left wall. Which I did before being beck­oned back to stand beside the chair. Again Miss Sven­son moved around behind me but this time she calm­ly reached around my waist and pulled my under­pants swift­ly down to my knees. I gasped and hur­ried­ly placed my hands in front, cov­er­ing my twitch­ing man­hood, thor­ough­ly embar­rassed at my predica­ment. Mov­ing me aside Miss Sven­son turned my chair around, hitched her tight skirt up expos­ing her mag­nif­i­cent thighs and seat­ed her­self. Cross­ing her shape­ly stockinged legs plac­ing them at a high angle which had me gasp­ing at their sheer beau­ty. And just like any expe­ri­enced dis­ci­pli­nar­i­an Miss Sven­son began scold­ing my behav­iour and as she repeat­ed­ly crossed her legs, there came the won­der­ful erot­ic sound of sheer stock­ings rub­bing against each oth­er. I could­n’t help star­ing at her attrac­tive shape­ly lap and I want­ed to say to her that it would be an hon­our to go over her knee, but was just too embar­rassed to say it!!

Miss Sven­son con­tin­ued to scold my behav­iour before adding those clas­sic words, “Young man you’re going over my knee for a long hot spank­ing on your bare bot­tom!!”. “Now get your­self across my knee you naughty lit­tle boy!!” Miss Sven­son com­mand­ed. “You’ve obvi­ous­ly been need­ing this for a long time!!”. Awk­ward­ly I com­plied, stretch­ing out face down over her mag­nif­i­cent, beau­ti­ful­ly fem­i­nine, stockinged clad, shape­ly thighs. I found myself arched on my stom­ach over her warm stur­dy lap, my feet extend­ed in one direc­tion and sup­port­ed by my hands pressed down on the floor in the oth­er direc­tion. I could feel the blood rush­ing to my head, and as I looked back at her beau­ti­ful stockinged legs and shiny black high heeled shoes, a whole range of emo­tions swept over me. I could feel Miss Sven­son’s hands neat­ly fold­ing up the tail of my shirt just as she had for the boy she had ear­li­er spanked. Bare from chest to knees, I of course, felt thor­ough­ly embar­rassed and humil­i­at­ed, and my vul­ner­a­ble bare bot­tom thrust up over Miss Sven­son’s knee was twitch­ing in anx­ious antic­i­pa­tion at the pun­ish­ment they were about to absorb. I could feel her adjust­ing posi­tion so as to place me in the per­fect posi­tion to admin­is­ter a sound spank­ing by hand. “I’m now going to admin­is­ter a good hand spank­ing young man!”, the omi­nous voice above informed me. “And I expect you to take it with­out com­plaint!”, “Yes Miss!”, I ner­vous­ly stam­mered. I felt her hand, which had been pat­ting my left cheek as she scold­ed me, lift away and then.….. Smack! Smack! Smack!. Miss Sven­son’s hand land­ed repeat­ed­ly on the alter­nate cheeks of my naked bot­tom. Slap! Smack! Whack! Spank! Spank! Spank! as the spank­ing began in earnest. Miss Sven­son set­tled into the same spank­ing pat­tern that she had adopt­ed for the boy, there­by cov­er­ing my entire bot­tom cheeks. On & on it went, and ohh my did that robust Head­mistress ever pro­ceed to lay on a crisp, burn­ing, prick­ling hand spank­ing! It had been so long since my last boy­hood spank­ing that I had for­got­ten how much a deter­mined wom­an’s firm hand could sting so much. Miss Sven­son upped the tem­po spank­ing hard­er & hard­er. She smacked my bare bot­tom all over, with real enthu­si­asm, and all the while her firm scold­ing voice was admon­ish­ing my behav­iour and encour­ag­ing me to do bet­ter. I tried to obey her com­mand to take it qui­et­ly and like a man, but that quick­ly became more dif­fi­cult. Slap! Smack! Whack! Spank! Spank! Spank! With my bot­tom on fire I was sim­ply burn­ing up and with no dig­ni­ty left I could­n’t help squirm­ing around on Miss Sven­son’s stur­dy lap and began kick­ing my legs like any naughty boy being sound­ly spanked would do. The min­utes began to feel like hours and as the heat con­tin­ued to build, I found myself gasp­ing and fight­ing back the tears as Miss Sven­son’s firm hand con­tin­ued to rise and fall with the rhythm of a trip ham­mer! Spank! Slap! Smack! The vig­or­ous hand spank­ing con­tin­ued. The room was filled with the sound of the crack of firm fem­i­nine hand on bare mas­cu­line bot­tom cheeks. It was at this stage that I felt waves of emo­tions flow through my body and I now had an under­stand­ing of the term plea­sure & pain. Slap! Slap! Smack! Smack! Spank! Spank! Spank! I con­tin­ued to squirm across Miss Sven­son’s shape­ly stockinged thighs. To my extreme embar­rass­ment I became so excit­ed that I found myself rais­ing my bot­tom to meet her pun­ish­ing hand, and I knew my face was as red as my bare bot­tom! Just as I thought she would nev­er stop, Miss Sven­son eased from hard to gen­tle spanks, and in between smacks she began rub­bing my burn­ing hot bare bot­tom cheeks in a cir­cu­lar motion as I des­per­ate­ly tried to con­trol my amaz­ing emo­tion­al mix of plea­sure & pain, as I lay breath­less across her lap. I cer­tain­ly had a new respect for this firm hand­ed woman. At last the spank­ing came to a halt and Miss Sven­son ordered me to my feet. As I stood there try­ing to catch my breath and rub­bing my hot, sore, fresh­ly spanked bare bot­tom cheeks, Miss Sven­son stood up, adjust­ed her skirt, and with sev­er­al vig­or­ous smacks to my bare bot­tom, marched me over to the cor­ner and ordered me to stand with my face to the wall, my hands firm­ly on my head, and that there was to be no fur­ther rub­bing of my bot­tom .….. or else! Feel­ing thor­ough­ly embar­rassed, I obeyed her with­out so much as a mur­mur of protest.

Out of the cor­ner of my eye I watched Miss Sven­son pick up a mag­a­zine from her desk and seat her­self back on the spank­ing chair and cross her shape­ly legs. And as she con­tin­u­al­ly re-crossed her legs, again came the won­der­ful erot­ic sound of sheer stock­ings rub­bing against each oth­er. Miss Sven­son slow­ly leafed through the mag­a­zine as if I was­n’t even in the same room. Final­ly after what seemed an eter­ni­ty, Miss Sven­son stood up and walked over to me and placed her hands on my still burn­ing bare bot­tom cheeks, play­ful­ly smack­ing and then caress­ing them in a rub­bing motion, prais­ing me for tak­ing her dis­ci­pline like a man. Mov­ing my hands down from my head Miss Sven­son turned me around and told me to dress myself, which I did imme­di­ate­ly as she returned to her desk to tidy it for the week­end. After dress­ing myself I was ordered back to sit on the chair. Miss Sven­son was obvi­ous­ly exhil­a­rat­ed, as I was, at what had hap­pened and was in a very pleas­ant mood as we sat chat­ting. She treat­ed me like an equal although I, sit­ting very gin­ger­ly on thor­ough­ly spanked bot­tom cheeks, cer­tain­ly did not feel the equal of the woman who had so effec­tive­ly dis­ci­plined me. For sev­er­al min­utes we talked about var­i­ous sub­jects. Final­ly, after a pause in our dis­cus­sions, Miss Sven­son remarked “I think we both feel very good about this sit­u­a­tion, don’t we Neil? It was real­ly quite man­ly of you to offer your­self for some old fash­ioned bare bot­tom dis­ci­pline, and I apol­o­gise if you feel I was severe, but I real­ly believe that you required a good work out from my hand!” I assured Miss Sven­son that she was quite right and felt my facial cheeks blush­ing yet again in the pres­ence of this won­der­ful, & beau­ti­ful dis­ci­pli­nar­i­an. “In that case Neil, just to prove that your seri­ous, I’d like this to be the first day in a dis­ci­pline course I’m going to put you through! From now on when you come to see me each Fri­day with your build­ing progress report you will need to con­fess to me your mis­deeds for the week, and I’ll then decide on your dis­ci­pline, agreed?” I was thrilled to hear this and had a vision of next Fri­day after­noon stand­ing, bare bot­tomed, before Miss Elsa Sven­son, my per­son­al Head­mistress, as she sat on the spank­ing chair giv­ing me a point­ed fin­ger scold­ing, as I ner­vous­ly, and excit­ed­ly, wait­ed to go over her mag­nif­i­cent shape­ly stockinged thighs, and her firm hand ready to deal with my bare bot­tom. “Well that’s all agreed then!” said Miss Sven­son as she stood up. “Ohh there is one more thing” she said as she reached for a wicked look­ing, crook han­dled, thin whip­py cane. “I want you to come to my home on Sun­day after­noon to look at some ren­o­va­tions I require doing!” and as she flexed the cane between her hands. Blush­ing furi­ous­ly, I nod­ded a yes. “Good!” said Miss Sven­son as she hand­ed me her address, “4 o’clock then Neil.…. I’ll see you at 4 o’clock.….. Sharp!!”