Story from Janus 15 by David Redshaw
Miss Julia Pemberton, the young Biology mistress, was by no stretch of the imagination prudish or narrow-minded, merely a trifle inhibited perhaps because of the cloistered, academic nature of her life to date.
Nevertheless, she was more than a little puzzled one day to walk into the headmaster’s study and discover Tina Walker, a pretty sixth-year girl, lying over his knee with her grey pleated skirt up around her waist, white cotton knickers fluttering at half-mast, getting her bare bottom thoroughly, systematically spanked.
Miss Pemberton was surprised for two reasons. First because corporal punishment of female pupils at Swansway Comprehensive was not so much banned as totally unheard of. No member of staff in her experience had even contemplated using it. More conventional punishments such as lines, detention, withdrawal of privileges had always been considered more than adequate. Disregarding the boys for the moment, none of the girl pupils could remotely be described as delinquent, even difficult. Apart from the odd silly prank and the occasional truancy there were never any major disciplinary problems at the school.
Which brought her to the second reason for her bewilderment. Why Tina Walker? Not only was she never naughty, she was positively angelic. A little dreamy and introspective at times perhaps — those big sad brown eyes of her captivated everyone — but a more pleasant, demure sort of girl you’d be hard put to find anywhere.
‘Dear sweet little Tina’ — that phrase just about summed her up. Yet here she was, much to Miss Pemberton’s amazement, bare from the waist downwards, getting her delicately petite little bottom soundly, shamefully smacked by Mr Carter — and Mr Carter was never one to do things without good reason. He had her pulled well over his knee, so much so that her nose was brushing the carpet and the other end of her practically pointing up towards the ceiling, her legs waving about in the air, her sandals in imminent danger of parting company with her feet. This meant that not only could the headmaster see her bare bottom, he could also see all she’d got between her legs: pubic hair, sexual organs — the lot. No wonder the poor girl was blushing so. Miss Pemberton blushed too, on her behalf.
No words were spoken — the spanking said it all. Mr Carter was attacking her pretty little bottom with a crisp, unbroken sequence of hard, ringing slaps. Tina’s high-pitched, vociferous response to the punishment left Julia Pemberton in no doubt that the noisy barrage of bottom smacks was proving every bit as painful as it looked.
A powerful, almost Freudian bond seemed to link spanker and spanked together, and Julia Pemberton entertained the queer notion that there was a kind of primevally basic appropriateness about the weird tableau unfolded before her incredulous eyes. A fully-grown 17-year-old girl having her bare bottom blisteringly spanked by a man old enough to be her father.
Neither Mr Carter nor the girl had heard her come in. They were worlds away: locked together, hermetically sealed off in some strange, age-old ritual — he the aggressor, she the sacrificial victim.
It also struck her that although she never for one minute doubted the professional integrity of her headmaster, or that this was anything other than a purely disciplinary measure, nevertheless there was something undeniably sexual about the whole thing. The rubbing together of both participants’ sexual organs through Mr Carter’s trousers, the girl’s conspicuously bared bottom, and in particular the blatant, unabashed way in which she was threshing her lower limbs about in total abandonment to the painful sensations the spanking was imparting to her pretty, pampered little behind.
A quiver of excitement tickled Julia Pemberton’s loins. She’d never, ever been spanked. For the first time in her life she found herself wondering what it must feel like.
Softly she tiptoed from the room like a guilty trespasser, closing the door gently behind her. The purpose of her visit had been merely to speak to the head about the consignment of new Biology books she’d ordered months ago that still hadn’t arrived. She now had a good ten minutes to kill before her next class. Enough time for a cup of coffee — she could do with a breather and a quiet think after what she’d just seen and heard. The pounding energy of the spanking was reflected in her pulse rate and reverberated in her ears. It was mid-afternoon and the musty, humid staff room was deserted apart from Mr Jenkins, the new History teacher. Tall, bearded and bronzed from a recent holiday in Greece, he was slouched in one of the well-worn easy chairs, snatching a cat-nap before facing the rigours of 4C.
The tinkling of cup and spoon nudged him from his slumbers and he awoke to see Julia Pemberton with her back towards him, filling her coffee mug at the hot water urn. He was still in that semi-dozing limbo state when those little erotic fantasies dart playfully around the brain, and he noticed how agreeably well-fleshed she was in the bottom department.
With the practised skill of an aficionado he detected easily the tell-tale ridge of her knicker-line through the taut fabric of her black straight skirt. Sturdy thighs, generous expanse of buttock cheek... and in his mind’s eye he bent her wickedly right across the coffee table and proceeded to wield an imaginary cane with such deadly accuracy and fervour across the crown of her naked rump that very soon he had her howling and bawling like a blubbering little kid.
Julia Pemberton straightened up and turned round, stirring her coffee, a frown of preoccupation on her face. They got on aright, with their daily chats at coffee-time and during the dinner-break. He ribbed her a bit but she didn’t seem to mind, even welcomed his attentions. He was always telling her to relax and not take things so seriously. She was sexually repressed and frustrated, that was her problem.
When she noticed he was now awake her frown disappeared. She smiled at him in her usual way, rather awkward way, and murmured a greeting.
‘Hello!’ he said a little sleepily. ‘Having a good day?’
‘Can’t wait for Friday!’ he yawned, and they both laughed.
The laughter dispelled her nervous tension, and an idea entered her head. Wasn’t Keith Jenkins Tina Walker’s form teacher? Maybe he’d know whether she’d committed some awful misdemeanour recently: a crime so heinous as to merit the drastic punishment she’d witnessed in the head’s study a moment ago.
‘Tina Walker been in trouble lately, has she?’ she enquired as casually as possible.
‘Sweet little Tina? Good God She’s as good as gold, never puts a foot wrong. Done a marvellous project on the Balkans for me. The Balkans — I ask you! He pulled a face in comic distaste. ‘Can you imagine anyone getting enthusiastic about the bloody Balkans?’
Julia had to admit she couldn’t.
‘Well, little Tina’s as keen as mustard about them — bless her cotton socks. She’s been plaguing the life out of me for a supplementary reading list... damned if I know what to recommend to her next, she’s already exhausted my own library... In trouble?’ he shook his head vigorously. ‘What on earth made you ask?’
‘Oh, nothing.’ Julia Pemberton suddenly felt embarrassed. Uncomfortable, too, for having even hinted at what might well still be going on just down the corridor.
An awkward silence ensued.
Dammit! She suddenly thought. Why shouldn’t he know, if it’s all above board? Mr Carter’s so impeccable, so beyond reproach, there can’t be any harm in —
‘Well, actually,’ she blurted out, ‘the reason I asked is because the head’s punishing her — giving her a spanking at this very moment! Immediately she said it she felt guilty, guilty that she’d betrayed a confidence, even though it hadn’t been bestowed on her.
‘Giving her a what?’ Jenkins demanded in stunned disbelief.
‘A sp-spanking she stammered, blushing slightly. ‘I just went in to ask the head about something and there she was, with her skirt all pulled up at the back and her knickers round her knees, over his lap getting her bottom smacked! I didn’t know where to put myself!’ She’d grown redder and redder while saying this.
Jenkins was by now sitting bolt upright, his nerves tingling.
‘Isn’t that just a little bit, shall we say, unusual?’ he asked, the agitated note in his voice betraying his excitement. ‘I mean to say, it’s not exactly an everyday occurrence, is it, a girl getting spanked at this school? I didn’t think we were allowed —’
‘That’s what I thought, too!’ She was glad there was someone to share her secret with.
He got up hastily from the chair. He just had to go and see for himself.
‘Must fly! Just remembered I’ve forgotten something!’ He mumbled, and dashed out of the room, leaving Julia trying to puzzle out the sense of his parting remark. As fast as his dignity allowed, he half-walked, half-ran along the corridor towards the head’s study.
‘This I must see!’ he said to himself urgently. ‘Christ! — hope I haven’t missed it!’ He said out loud with such passion he might have been talking about a gold-rush.
Staff didn’t need to knock, so he simply pushed open the door. With a pounding heart he saw that he indeed hadn’t missed it. The spanking was still in progress.
There she was, sweet little Tina, unveiled in all her teenage splendour, draped ignominiously over Mr Carter’s broad, middle-aged lap, shamefully displaying her bare, thoroughly-spanked, dainty bottom and equally well-reddened nymph-like thighs to all who cared to look.
She was crying her heart out, and her poor maltreated bottom bore eloquent testament that the headmaster was bent on giving her the spanking of her life. Her rounded cheeks were deeply stained by scarlet patches — even crimsoning finger marks — and there was not a square inch of virginal flesh left between her waist and her thighs. Even the backs of her legs bore some marks.
No, Mr Carter certainly hadn’t finished with her yet. He was still doing it, smacking her bottom with loud, measured, rhythmic slaps that stung even the ears — so goodness knows what they were doing to Tina’s frantically twitching, rudely-exposed behind.
In spite of his sexual predilections, Keith Jenkins still felt sorry for her. Sorry that Tina, of all girls, was being put through this humiliating ordeal. Stripped half-naked, made to go over Carter’s knee and stick up her bare bottom practically in his face for his no doubt delighted inspection. Keith was sure she was a virgin — something indefinable about her proclaimed it. She exuded modesty and innocence, never swore, and invariably blushed when one of the boy-pupils came out with some callow crudity or other. She was just ineffably sweet and lovely.
For such a thing as a bare-bottom spanking to happen to her! Heavens, he could see her pouting little fanny from where he was standing, so old Carter must be getting a right old grandstand view of it! She’ll never be able to look him in the face again after this...
But Keith had to admit he found the spectacle of little Tina getting spanked highly erotic to say the least. The throbbing rigidity in the front of his trousers was proof enough of that. His erection had leapt to life in the staff room as soon as Julia had mentioned the spanking, and it had grown from strength to strength ever since.
He wondered if old Carter had an erection, too, and whether Tina could feel it pressing up against her.
What on earth should he do? Clear his throat loudly, warn Carter of his presence in the room, and thus bring the disgracefully stimulating incident to a halt? Or beat a tactful retreat and leave them to it?
He was in the process of deciding when Tina made up his mind for him. It wasn’t what she said, more what she did.
She started to wriggle and thrash about more frenziedly than ever, while the angry smacks continued to rain down unabated. Her legs waved frantically in the air and although her tears still fell profusely, the weeping noises gave way to moans, and then to urgent shrieks, until her whole body became racked by shooting spasms and she cried out shrilly:
‘Ooh sir! I’m coming — I’M COMING!’
The chair creaked precariously, Carter stopped smacking her and steadied her with both hands as she shuddered in uncontrollable ecstasy.
So that’s what all about! Keith Jenkins’s mind reeled in stunned disbelief as he silently crept from the room. Sweet little Tina! — well I’ll be blowed! And a pang of jealousy, that old Carter should have all the luck, went through him like a knife. Fat, bald, ugly old Carter — how did he pull it off? Or rather pull them off — Tina’s knickers, that is.
Was this a game only two could play, or was there room for more?
Tina Walker was, in actual fact, getting spanked at every available opportunity by Mr Carter, who had her literally in the palm of his hand ever since he’d caught her cheating last June in a GCE exam, and had threatened to report her to the Examination Board unless she agreed to let him ‘deal with her in his own way’, as he’d tactfully put it.
That in itself was bad enough but when, shame upon shame, she’d orgasmed involuntarily the third time he’d spanked her... well, by then the cards were stacked well and truly against her. From then on, Mr Carter ruthlessly exploited every unfair advantage over her that he had.
He punished her at least twice a week, sometimes three. She never knew when it was going to happen. He simply plucked her out of whatever class she was in, on the perfectly plausible pretext of giving her extra A level French tuition, and no one was any the wiser. No one but Mr Carter knew she’d achieved her O level pass in the subject by unfair means — and by God, was he making her pay for it! Her almost permanently sore bottom was their shameful little secret, theirs alone.
But not for very much longer. Next Wednesday morning after Assembly Mr Carter, in one of his not-to-be-trifled-with moods, treated sweet little Tina Walker to a blisteringly severe, long drawn-out spanking that broke all previous records. By the end of it she was bawling unashamedly and hopping frantically round the room, clutching at her bright-red, glowing behind, which was unquestionably the most beautiful bottom he’d ever clapped eyes on.
She felt utterly degraded because this time he’d made her strip naked, except for her socks and sandals. She just didn’t know where to put herself. She knew he was greedily devouring every intimate part of her body, every facet of her painful humiliation.
She blubbered piteously to herself while she looked around vainly trying to locate the whereabouts of her discarded white cotton pants.
‘ S’ not fair!’ she exclaimed in an outburst of frightened petulance, at the sheer injustice of it all.
But all Mr Carter did was to sit and stare hungrily at her. He was thinking how desirably pretty she looked with her tear-streaked face and comically red little bottom. So innocent... so indescribably sweet and innocent!
He helped her look for her knickers, which they eventually discovered under his desk. Tina had to go down on all fours to retrieve them. She yelled loudly as two more hard stinging slaps descended, one on each out-thrust buttock. Carter just couldn’t resist her neat little rump, stuck out as it was at such a blatantly provocative angle.
Next he insisted on helping her on with her blouse. He took simply ages to button it up at the front. Then her tie. He lifted up her collar so she could slide it under. Finally her blazer and skirt, and all the way through his hands had wandered salaciously...
That accomplished, he gave her cheek an affectionate little pat, and she felt the heat still radiating from his hand — the hand he’d used to smack her bottom . She blushed at the mortifying memory and rubbed childishly at the corners of her tear-stained eyes. Once more Mr Carter came to her aid. He produced a large pocket handkerchief with which he proceeded to dab away at the remaining tears with fetishistic aplomb.
She closed her eyes and tried hard to think of something else while he pawed and fondled her with his other hand. It slid up the back of her skirt and gripped her right buttock just where it hurt the most. She gave an involuntary ‘Ouch !’ and wriggled about to escape his grasp.
Reluctantly he let go of her hot little bottom and told her to run along to her next lesson.
Her next lesson! She panicked when she remembered what it was.
‘It’s PE!’ she wailed. I’ll have to get undressed in front of the other girls, then they’ll all see —’ She left her words dangling in mid-air. It was too awful even to contemplate.
She pleaded with Mr Carter to let her off the lesson. He could write a note for Mrs Dunkerley, the PE mistress, to say Tina was ‘unwell’, and therefore excused active participation. Carter could see her point. He certainly didn’t want their well-kept little secret to get out.
He scribbled a quick note and handed it to her.
‘There, that should do the trick! Now off you go, Tina!’ He gave her departing bottom one last lingering whack.
Keith Jenkins always tried to finish his last class on Wednesday morning five minutes early. This enabled him to saunter casually down to the gym where, with a bit of luck, the sixth-year girls would still be gyrating and wiggling their vest-clad, gym-knickered, nubile bodies in obedience to the stentorian commands of Marjorie Dunkerley, a butch, forbidding Amazon of a woman.
More than once she’d seen Jenkins peering furtively through the windows at the girls, but she hadn’t brought the matter up with him. She took a somewhat tolerant view of Mr Jenkins’s penchant for adolescent girls’ bottoms and breasts because she was not exactly immune to their charms herself...
So that particular Wednesday, Keith Jenkins, strolling along the glass-panelled corridor by the gym, drinking his fill of all the cheeky little bottoms appealingly disporting themselves in tight gym knickers, happened to spy Tina Walker all alone and forlorn, seated fully dressed on one of the long benches in the changing room . ‘Seated’ wasn’t perhaps the right word for it — she was fidgeting constantly, sliding her tender bottom this way and that way, up and down the hard wooden bench where Mrs Dunkerley had instructed her to remain for the duration of the lesson — and nobody dared to disobey Mrs Dunkerley! She’d sniffed contemptuously when Tina had produced her chit from Mr Carter. The girl didn’t seem the slightest bit ill — obviously a malingerer! She also looked hot and flushed.
Of course Keith Jenkins put two and two together immediately. Tina’s fidgetings and grimaces of discomfort gave the game away. So that old ram Carter had given her another good smacking, eh? Made her pretty little bottom too red and sore for PE?
He beckoned her from the open door and said he wanted a private word with her in his room. Tina was essentially a very good girl, and she didn’t really want to disobey Mrs Dunkerley. But she reminded herself that nice Mr Jenkins was after all her form teacher, and as such, did have greater claim over her person than did her gym mistress. So she obediently followed him down the corridor, all innocence and trust.
Her bottom was still stinging painfully, so much so that she had to exercise great self-restraint to prevent herself from rubbing the seat of her short grey pleated skirt or gasping from the sharp smart that came with each step she took as she walked after him.
The History room and the corridor outside it was deserted. Everyone had gone to dinner, there was no fear of interruption.
Keith Jenkins put a kindly, solicitous arm around Tina’s shoulder, said he’d noticed how sad and unhappy she’d been of late, and asked her what the trouble was. Could he help? He was, after all, her form teacher. Pastoral guidance was part of his job.
Tina liked Mr Jenkins very much. She also trusted him. An immense relief flooded over her as, throwing caution to the winds, she took him into her confidence.
Mr Jenkins exuded caring compassion, so much so that when she came to the embarrassing bit of having to tell him all about those dreadful spankings, she didn’t really mind when he led her over to his chair and sat her on his knee... she would even have let him cuddle her... in the desolate mood she was in she’d have loved a cuddle!
Her skirt was too short to cover her bottom when she sat down, so her well-spanked, scantily clad behind made direct contact with his corduroy-trousered, muscular thighs. But she didn’t mind that either — he was being so sweet, so kind to her.
‘Oh Mr Jenkins it’s so awful!’ she confided. ‘Sometimes he smacks me three times in one week!’ She began to cry softly into the comforting warmth of his shoulder.
His hand which before had been resting protectively against the back of her skirt (to prevent her from toppling backwards off his lap, Tina had assumed in her innocence) was now working its way underneath her skirt and down into her knickers, where it proceeded to fondle and massage her aching little buttocks.
Tina thought this was a trifle unusual, but then, as he was acting in locum parentis, presumably Mr Jenkins considered it an integral part of his pastoral duty.
She felt something hard nestling up against her thighs. Maybe it was his pipe in his trouser pocket?
Tina hung her head in shame as she confessed to having cheated in that beastly French O level — but Mr Jenkins somehow didn’t seem at all interested. He only seemed interested in the spankings, and wanted to know even the minutest details of the punishments, including a full blow-by-blow account of the smacking Mr Carter had given her that morning.
‘— you mean he made you take everything off, Tina?’ he pressed her. She nodded miserably and shifted her position slightly on his lap. The pipe in his or whatever it was, seemed to be growing bigger by the minute.
‘Well actually not quite everything,’ she corrected herself. ‘He let me keep my socks and sandals on.’
Jenkins’s heart pounded as he imagined the scene. This poor, darling little girl, stripped of her modesty, subjected to the obscene scrutiny of that lecherous old Carter. All the virginal sanctity of her bodily secrets laid bare: breasts, buttocks, pubic region — all naked and exposed. And then, what Tina dreaded most of all: the laying on of hands — Carter’s spidery fingers greedily pawing her bottom and up between her legs, cruelly caressing her private parts, kneading her, teasing her into shameful lubricity... closely followed by the spanking itself, a painful, long drawn-out affair — all the more painful for the familiar sensations it aroused in her... Carter, taking his time over it like he always did, slowly slapping her rudely uptilted bum. Punishing it soundly and severely for its provocativeness...
‘And did Mr Carter make you cry this morning, Tina?’ he demanded, in a strangely hoarse, almost strangled voice.
By now he’d tugged her knickers down at the back and his fingers were eagerly exploring the downy warmth of her bottom cleft. He just couldn’t help himself. Tina was starting to feel all funny down there, but in a nice sort of way. She infinitely preferred Mr Jenkin’s caresses to old Carter’s insulting anatomical probings and gropings.
She raised her cute little bottom ever so slightly, and he carefully inched his fingers forward, disengaging the sticky gusset of her knickers from between her thighs.
He could feel the heat still emanating from her chastened buttocks. The youthful fragrance of her body, the bitter-sweetness of her tear-stained face, the way she clung to him, innocent as a kitten — it was all too much for him, he simply had to investigate!
Gently but firmly he upended her over his knee, flipped up the back of her brief skirt and whisked her knickers right down to her knees.
Tina struggled in panic. She went hot and cold all over. She couldn’t imagine what on earth he was doing.
But when Mr Jenkins told her he was simply ‘inspecting the damage’ she calmed down considerably, supposing naively that their pupil-teacher relationship did indeed allow him to take such unusual measures.
Tina Walker’s bare bottom pouted saucily at him. It was by far the cheekiest little bottom he’d ever seen — it seemed to positively invite retribution...
Only when he actually started to smack her did the bitter realisation dawn on poor little Tina that she’d been totally wrong about Mr Jenkins. He was just like Mr Carter, after all. Just as bent on getting her over his knee with her pants down — only more devious in the way he went about it.
It was only an hour since Tina had been punished by the headmaster. Her bottom still felt very tender, So, not surprisingly, when Mr Jenkins’s playful slaps progressed to more business-like, nerve-tingling spanks that echoed loudly around the empty classroom, the luckless girl quickly dissolved into tears and began kicking and threshing about, not caring anymore about what she was displaying of herself.
Jenkins held the trump card in his hand. He knew that if he spanked Tina long and hard enough, she’d come...
And eventually she did, so noisily that he had to put his hand over her mouth to silence her.
Thoroughly ashamed of herself, she slid gingerly off his lap and amid copious tears, proceeded to furiously massage her blazing rear end.
Standing there, her knickers dangling ludicrously around her ankles, Tina reflected bitterly on the unfairness of life. Things were now doubly worse. She had not only Mr Carter, but Mr Jenkins to contend with. Would her poor bottom be allowed any respite at all?
But worse was to come. At that precise moment an irate Mrs Dunkerley was conferring at the dinner table with Miss Pemberton.
‘But it’s so unlike Tina Walker!’ the formidable gym mistress snapped. ‘I’ll grant you she had a chit from Carter excusing her from doing PE — though for the life of me I couldn’t see the slightest thing wrong with her myself, except that she had ants in her pants and she looked like she’d been crying! But to disappear like that without so much as a by-your-leave, before the end of my lesson — wait till I catch her, I’ll give her what-for!’ She thumped the table angrily.
Miss Pemberton leaned over and confided something in the mistress’s ear, Mrs Dunkerley’s steely eyes widened in amazed fascination.
‘— Spank her, does he? Well, I’ll be blowed!’ she marvelled, looking pensively at her empty plate. She was thinking about the cane she’d discovered the day she’d tidied out the cupboards in the gym. Here at last was a chance to use it.
Later in the day, Mrs Dunkerley encountered the culprit lurking sheepishly in the playground.
‘I want a word with you, Tina Walker!’ she barked. ‘Report to me in the gym after school!’
Tina paled, nodded obedience, and walked on, little dreaming what lay in store. The day was far from over.
And Mr Jenkins, terribly aroused, was mouthing her name over and over as he passed his passion peak in private.