Story from Janus 31 by R.T. Mason
On 1 September 1939 the BBC announced that the German Armies had invaded Poland. As time went by all over London, hundreds of thousands of schoolchildren were to be seen heading for railway and bus stations. It was the Great Evacuation, taking them to areas of presumed safety. Many, no doubt, were to wish they could have stayed where they were...
The Morgan Thomas School for Girls. The very name sounded alien and threatening. Her first morning there and she stood in the playground feeling quite lost. Her sense of isolation was increased by the fact that all the other girls wore the proper uniform whereas 16-year-old Janet Newman, newly evacuated to this small Welsh town, was in her own school uniform from faraway London. The bell sounded, the girls went in; someone said the Headmaster wanted to see her.
And then — if the rest had been alien and vaguely threatening this was just unbelievable.
The Head, Mr Williams, had a kindly voice, and his face too as he looked up at Janet from behind his desk was not fierce or frightening. But that just made what he said all the worse. Janet simply stood there, a pink flush on her pretty face, looking first at the Headmaster and then down at the carpet on his office floor. The first part of what he had said had not really been registering, but the last bit — his words reverberated in her head.
‘So please take your knickers down, Janet. I am going to give you a spanking on the bare bottom.’
She had of course done nothing at all to merit this. How could she when she had only been in the school for 20 minutes.
As she stood there, dumbfounded, and certainly making no attempt to do as he had ordered, he calmly said it all again — in that lilting Welsh voice. He was sorry but he had been told that London girls could be rather troublesome; and so he had decided that a salutary lesson at the very outset was the best thing. To show a teenage girl that even though she was a girl she could be dealt with.
And then he came to that simply unbelievable bit again. ‘So will you please take your knickers down, Janet. Right away!’
It was quite impossible. With a sense of outrage and with tears filling her eyes at the sheer injustice of it Janet desperately shook her head.
‘No... No I won’t! I shan’t!’ There was a hint of hysteria in her voice.
Mr Williams simply smiled calmly at her. ‘We don’t want dramatics, Janet. That is the last thing I tolerate at this school. I will give you one more chance. Take down your knickers yourself. Or I shall simply have them taken down for you.’
Tears running down her cheeks, Janet shook her pretty blonde head. Mr Williams got up from his desk. ‘So be it my girl.’
He went to the door. ‘Evans!’
And in no time flat there appeared a smallish middle-aged man with thinning hair and a weasel-ish face. Mr Williams closed the door behind him.
‘Mr Evans is our very efficient caretaker and I am sure he can assist. Mr Evans — a little spot of trouble with our new guest who has apparently not been taught much in the way of discipline at her own school. I should like you to take her knickers down whilst I hold her.’
The caretaker’s eyes went gloatingly over Janet’s shapely 16-year-old form in her white blouse and decidedly short blue pleated skirt. On either side of her red-and-blue St Hilda’s tie were the distinct bulges of good-sized girlish breasts. Mr Evans licked his lips.
In that same horrible lilting accent he said, ‘Ah sir, being a difficult young lady, is she, sir? We can’t ‘ave that, sir. Oh dear no!’
Janet gave a yelp as Mr Williams took a firm grip of her arms from behind. Then another yelp and a desperate struggle... as Mr Evans’ hands went up her skirt.
She had the satisfaction of kicking his shins but that didn’t prevent him getting his hands in the waistband of Janet’s knickers... and simply skinning them down. Down the bare upper thighs to the tops of her black lisle stockings.
‘I’ll take them right off for you, Mr Williams,’ rasped Mr Evans helpfully. And in spite of further kickings the white cotton knickers came on down and off over Janet’s polished brown shoes.
‘There you are, sir!’ Mr Evans put the knickers in his pocket. Then casually lifted Janet’s skirt up in front and gazed with interest at what was there.
‘Right that will be all, Evans,’ said Mr Williams, still holding Janet’s arms from behind.
The caretaker dropped Janet’s skirt and went out. Mr Williams let go of her arms and came round to face his new pupil. She just stood there, trembling and crying.
‘So now we know who is the boss, so to speak, don’t we, my girl. Now if you are a co-operative young lady it will be a spanking. If you are not — well, I’ll simply have to have Evans in again. And have him hold you down while I use the stick on you. So what’s it to be?’
Wiping her eyes, Janet said nothing. Her whole body was shaking and it was all quite unbelievable — but she had sense enough to see there was no way she could resist the two of them. As she continued to remain silent Mr Williams took hold of her arm.
‘I think we are going to be sensible, are we?’
He led her to an upright chair which he sat down on. She offered no resistance as he pulled her over his lap.
The Headmaster pulled up the short blue skirt she had grown out of, right round her waist. There were the black lisle stockings ending at mid-thigh and held by a white cotton suspender belt. Above the stockings were the softly rounded bare upper thighs and then the centre of attention, Janet’s bare bottom. Twin cheeks, full and firm, with at their juncture with the thighs a glimpse of curling light-brown hair.
Mr Williams’ eyes gazed — at a splendid girlish backside that was most undoubtedly crying out for discipline. His left arm went firmly round her waist while his right hand took firm hold of a soft warm bottom cheek. He squeezed and fondled as he delivered a little homily on proper disciplined behaviour. He liked to assert himself with new girls, but this evacuee held a very special attraction for him.
Then his hand started rising and falling. Sharp jolting smacks to Janet’s bare bottom. Crisply landing on the warm and tender flesh and each sharp smack making the soft buttocks hotter and more tender. Smacks to right cheek and to left cheek; to the full undercurve and to the higher flanks; smacks also lower down, to the upper thighs.
To Janet, who had never been properly spanked before, and certainly not on her bare bottom and by a stranger, it was truly devastating. The pain was awful but even worse was the humiliation, the outrage, of being bared like this and summarily dealt with at her age. She was yelping and crying and desperately squirming, deeply ashamed of having her bottom smacked.
The squirming died away, though, as the spanking continued and Mr Williams simply smacked the spirit out of her. The sharp yelps died away too — leaving only an indistinct sobbing.
Finally it was over. Mr Williams pushed Janet to her feet. Still sobbing, she wiped at her eyes.
The Head’s precise Welsh voice — ‘So now we know what’s what, young lady. Now we’ve had a little taste to set us on the right path, haven’t we?’
Janet stood silent, shaking, trying to blink away the tears. Mr Williams’ hand came up inside the back of her skirt again, like a snake. He took hold of her bare bum again, fondling, squeezing, in a horribly familiar manner.
‘I asked if we were now set out on the right path, Miss!’
Squirming, Janet mumbled, ‘Y...yes... Yes sir.’
Mr Williams gave her bottom a final pinch, then removed his hand.
‘Good! I certainly hope so. Because at any sign of actual trouble, my dear, it won’t be my hand. It will be the stick on your bare bottom. Now one thing more. Because you caused such a commotion this morning I shall want you to come here to my office first thing every morning this week. So that we can see if you’ve learnt to take your knickers down when told to. We must have a proper attitude from you.’
He gave her a dismissive ‘That’s all!’, then opened his register.
At the door Janet suddenly stopped.
‘S... sir...’ Her voice was unusually soft and high-pitched.
Mr Williams looked up. ‘I... my... my knickers, sir. Mr... Mr Evans has got them.’
‘Well you can’t waste any more time now, Janet. Go to your class as you are and see Mr Evans at break time. I’m sure he won’t lose them.’
And so Janet had her first lessons at Morgan Thomas School with a freshly spanked bottom and with no knickers on. She sat through two lessons as in a bad dream, acutely conscious of the fact that her bottom was bare under her skirt and with her mind filled with that awful experience in the Headmaster’s office. Having her knickers forcibly removed by the caretaker and then Mr Williams’ hand repeatedly on her bare bum. It was dreadful — a nightmare.
They had got here just two days before, on the Saturday, Janet and her younger brother Stanley. Stanley was at the Boys’ School of course. Most of the girls back at St. Hilda’s in South East London had been evacuated but they had gone to different places and none of them were here in Llangafan in South Wales. Janet and Stanley were here because their grandmother knew someone who knew Mrs Jones. Mr and Mrs Ivor Jones whom Janet and Stanley had come to stay with and saw for the first time on Saturday.
The Jones’s were in their fifties presumably and Mrs Jones was quite kindly. Mr Jones — well, he was more distant and he seemed at times to look at Janet in a slightly funny way. What she also didn’t like about him was bed-times, when she and Stanley had to give both Mr and Mrs Jones a goodnight kiss. Janet didn’t mind kissing Mrs Jones but on both Saturday and Sunday when she had given him a peck on the cheek his hands had slid over her pyjama-clad body in a way she didn’t like at all.
The Jones’s lived just outside the little town of Llangafan in a sort of farmhouse. But you went in to Llangafan to school, on the school bus. And if you were a girl you had to go to this dreadful Morgan Thomas School for Girls. Where the Headmaster was Mr Brynfor Williams and whose introduction to a pretty 16-year-old evacuee, Janet now knew, was to take her knickers off and spank her bare bottom.
It was the worst thing she had ever experienced. She had expected being evacuated to be awful — but nothing at all like what had happened.
At morning break she was at least going to get her knickers back — though it also meant another meeting with that dreadful Mr Evans. At the end of the lesson the girl next to Janet seemed prepared to be friendly and said her name was Rose Davies. But Janet unfortunately had to go.
Rose made a face when Janet told her whom she had to see. ‘I wouldn’t go and see him unless I had to!’
Janet did have to, but Rose’s words made it even worse.
She found his little room, round the back of the school, and Mr Evans was in there, reading a newspaper, when she knocked and went hesitantly in. He grinned wolfishly.
‘Well, what a nice surprise! A visit from our pretty little Londoner.’
Red-faced, Janet mumbled that she wanted her knickers back.
Mr Evans pretended not to know what she meant ‘You... you put... them in your pocket,’ she stammered.
‘Oh did I, Miss Pretty Tits. Did I now!’
He came close with his strong smell of tobacco, and Janet backed away. His hand reached out and briefly fondled a breast. She gave a yelp.
‘Anyway, what’s a girl like you so worried about her knickers for? I bet you’ve taken them off often enough for those London boys.’
He grabbed Janet’s waist with both hands, pulling her to him. She gasped, ‘Don’t! I’ll tell... I’ll tell Mr... Mr...’
Mr Evans gave a hoarse laugh. ‘Mr Williams? If you go complaining to him, my girl, he’ll just take the stick to your pretty bum.’
He pulled her close. One hand gripped Janet round the waist and in spite of her struggling the other slid under her skirt at the back and took hold of her bare bottom. What with this and his awful tobacco smell Janet felt distinctly sick.
Mr Evans said, ‘Now you be a nice sensible girl and you’ll get on all right here. I’ll give you your knickers back but first of all I’m going to give this pretty bum another spanking. Just so you know what’s what. We can’t ‘ave you London girls coming here and playing havoc.’
Tears had already started in Janet’s eyes again. It was all impossible, incredible. She struggled ineffectually against his horrible bony hands. ‘Please! Just let me go! I’m not going to do anything.’
Which was certainly true. Janet Newman was a well-mannered and law-abiding girl and the last person to cause trouble. But Mr Evans, like Mr Williams earlier, said how did he know that. And very shortly, for the second time that morning, Janet was face-down over a man’s lap with her bottom bared and a hard male hand intimately smacking down on the tender cheeks. Once again it was just impossibly awful.
When it was over and he’d helped himself to a few final fumbles at her bum, Mr Evans pushed Janet to her feet. He produced the knickers, dangling them in front of her.
‘Here’re the knicks that you’re so desperate for. Lift up your skirt and I’ll put them on for you.’
Still fighting the tears — tears of humiliation as much as anything — Janet stuttered that she could put them on herself.
‘But I said I’d put them on, Miss. Now hold your skirt up. Right up round your waist.’
There was nothing for Janet to do but comply — and give Mr Evans another look at what he had been so unashamedly interested in that morning. Cringing, she revealed the neat bush of brown hair.
Mr Evans’ eyes gleamed. ‘That’s it — skirt right up! No need to be shy with Dai Evans. He’s seen plenty before.’
Crouching in front of her he slipped the white cotton knickers over first one shoe and then the other; then drew them up the black-stockinged legs. On up the suspendered thighs, taking his time, making a meal of it; finally pulling them snugly up over the rounded hips.
Janet had just about managed to stand still. ‘That’s it, Missy. You be nice and co-operative and you’ll ‘ave no trouble with Dai Evans.’
Janet didn’t say that she knew this because he had just spanked her.
He wasn’t finished of course — the hands still wanted to fiddle and fumble. Finally, with a hand still groping at her bottom, Janet did manage to escape. She just couldn’t accept that all this was happening.
When she saw Rose a bit later the Welsh girl asked, ‘Did he feel you up?’
Janet flushed. Rose said, ‘He always feels girls up and he can get away with it because his wife is a cousin of the Head or something. He spanks girls too although he’s not s’posed to.’
The rest of the day was more or less uneventful; certainly nothing to compare with those two awful events of the morning. After school she met up with Stanley again, on the school bus. He said his school was all right and he had met a couple of boys he got on OK with. So presumably there had been none of the terrible happenings which had punctuated Janet’s day. She said nothing to Stanley about it, of course.
Janet didn’t really know what to do. The thought of having to stay here and presumably suffer more of the same — well, it made her feel sick just to think about it. She would definitely write home this very evening and say she wasn’t happy and could she come back. But... she didn’t know whether to say exactly what had happened. She was sure her mother would be shocked if she knew, and of course she had enough to worry about already what with Janet’s Dad being called up in the army.
And what about Mr and Mrs Jones? Should she complain to them? She decided maybe not — but in any case this decision was pre-empted. By the note she had in her satchel. A note in an envelope handed to Janet by her form teacher and addressed to Mr Ivor Jones.
Mr Jones opened the envelope when he came home from work. It was from Mr Williams. Mrs Jones, looking over at it said ‘Oh Dear!’
Mr Jones, tight-lipped, said ‘We’ll deal with this later, my girl.’
Stanley was sent up to bed early, at 9 o’clock; and Janet was told to put on her pyjamas and go to the sitting room. There a grim-faced Mr Jones showed her the note.
Dear Mr Jones,
Janet got off to a bad start today when she showed herself to be a rather defiant young person. I saw fit to deal out a little punishment and you might like to have a word with her as well.
Yours truly, Brynfor Williams
Mr Jones gripped Jane’s arm. ‘Defiant, is it? We won’t have a defiant girl in this house, Miss!’
Tears came again as Janet tried to explain what had happened and the sheer injustice of it all. But her pleas cut no ice with Ivor Jones and even Mrs Jones was shaking her head and saying girls must be obedient.
And just to cap that truly awful day Janet then heard Mr Jones say there was only one way to deal with a disobedient girl and he was going to give her another spanking. She cried out appealing to Mrs Jones, but it did her no good. While his wife sat with a righteous look on her face, Mr Jones took Janet across his lap and unceremoniously pulled down her pyjama bottoms. The pert bottom was once more on display.
Like the other two men before him, Ivor Jones’ hand slid fondlingly over Janet’s bare backside, enjoying the feel of the smooth flesh, of the softly rounded buttocks. He experienced a stirring of sexual excitement. Quite frankly he had been wanting an excuse to get his hand on the girl’s bare bottom ever since she arrived.
Ivor Jones savoured the feel of her. And then, also like the other two men before him, his hand started cracking smartingly down.
Mrs Jones sat by, now getting on with her knitting, as Janet, yelping and squirming, was dealt with. Ivor Jones did a full and thorough job. According to his puritanical Welsh ethic a pretty girl needed firm disciplining, because otherwise you never knew what she might try to get away with. But puritanical or not, beneath Janet’s squirming, wriggling body Ivor Jones was in a state of full and firm arousal. And no wonder.
The ripe young bottom was glowing like a beacon by the time he finally had had enough. At last the unhappy girl was allowed to struggle to her feet. Red-faced, acutely conscious of Mr Jones’ gaze on her brown bush, she grabbed up her pyjama bottoms.
‘Try to remember that little lesson in future, my girl,’ advised Mr Jones who was also a bit pink in the face.
Mrs Jones said, ‘Don’t worry, dear, it will soon feel better. But we must be obedient mustn’t we?’
Then Janet had to kiss Mrs Jones goodnight. And then Mr Jones. As on the two previous evenings his hands slid over her, like two slithery snakes.
Upstairs, blinking away the tears, Janet scribbled the letter to her mother. She wanted to come home right away. She just didn’t like this place, she said. But she refrained from the details: that she had been spanked three times today for doing absolutely nothing.
In the morning, on the way to the bus stop, Janet told Stanley she was going to see if they could go back home.
‘Why?’ asked her brother. ‘It’s all right here. Anyway we can’t go back, not yet. What about the bombs?’
Janet thought she’d much rather take her chances with bombs than what she’d got yesterday. She tried to persuade Stanley to write as well but he wouldn’t. She was still trying to persuade him when the bus got to Morgan Thomas School and she had to get off.
Janet saw Rose in the playground and at least the place now no longer had that completely strange feel to it. But the strangeness had been replaced by knowledge that was not at all pleasant. There was her visit to the Head for a start. Janet told Rose she had to see him about something to do with her own school.
She knocked and entered his office, her heart in her mouth.
Mr Williams looked up. ‘Ah Janet — Good Morning! Yes, we are to see if we’ve learnt anything, aren’t we? Well, have we?’
Janet mumbled, ‘Yes sir.’
‘Yes sir. And what have we learnt then?’
‘O... Obedience, sir.’
‘Yes obedience, Janet. Well let us see how well we have learnt it. Take your knickers down please.’
She flushed red; hesitated; then her hands went up under her skirt.
‘Down are they, Janet?’
‘Lift your skirt and let me see then.’
The skirt was unhappily raised, to expose the black lisle stockings with a pair of white cotton knickers lowered round their tops. Above, framed by the straps of her white cotton suspender belt, were the rounded hips and thighs; and at the centre, the bush of brown hair.
Mr Williams’ eyes went from the bush to the girl’s flushed face. ‘Good! So we are learning, Miss. But I think another little spanking will do no harm. Come here please.’
And very shortly Janet was again over Mr Williams’ lap and his hand was rising and falling percussively onto resilient bare flesh.
When it was over and her knickers were back in place Janet was dismissed with the reminder that she was to return again tomorrow morning. Blinking, biting her lip, she tried to compose herself. At least today she had her knickers on and there hadn’t been that dreadful humiliation of having the caretaker take them off.
The rest of the day wasn’t too bad. Janet had no run-in with Mr Evans for one thing, and her teachers seemed reasonable, not trying to pick on her. The only thing was at lunch time, in the playground, this other girl in her class, Megan Griffiths, started being unpleasant.
Janet who was with Rose, tried to take no notice, but it wasn’t easy as Megan started chanting that all English were pigs and Londoners were the biggest pigs. Rose told Janet to ignore it, Megan Griffiths was known to be an awkward customer.
After tea Janet and Stanley went for a walk as it was a nice evening and she took the opportunity to again try to persuade her brother to write home. Again he refused — they’d only just got here for one thing, and it was OK. Mrs Jones had chickens and geese which you didn’t get in London, and he didn’t mind his school. So what was the problem.
‘I don’t like my school!’ replied Janet, pinching his arm.
At bed-time they went as usual in their pyjamas to say Goodnight to the Jones’s. Mr Jones told Janet to wait a moment. After Stanley had gone upstairs he asked her how she had got on at school that day. She suddenly felt extremely vulnerable; perhaps her disadvantaged status as a rather remarkably attractive evacuee was finally dawning upon her.
‘All right’ she said.
‘No spanking then?’
Rather foolishly Janet admitted that she had — Mr Williams had given her another dose. She went on to explain that she hadn’t done anything at all to get it, but Mr Jones cut her short.
‘Nobody gets a spanking for nothing. And if you deserved it again at school you can have another one here at home. Come on — over my lap!’
The fact was that after that introduction to Janet’s bare bottom the night before, Ivor Jones had no intention of missing any opportunity for a repeat. He pulled his pretty evacuee over his lap and greedily yanked down the tight pink cotton pyjamas. Then equally greedily ran his hand over the immaculate bare springy cheeks.
What he was doing was very much a moral duty, of course; but at the same time it was a decidedly stimulating one. The girl’s writhings on his lap, as he began spanking her, very soon had him fully aroused as he had been the night before. Mrs Jones, sitting opposite, got on with her knitting. If she knew, or guessed at, the state her husband was in, or the exquisite pleasure he was enjoying, she gave no sign.
Once more, by the time Mr Jones had finished with her Janet was in a most unhappy state. She pulled her knickers up over her smarting bottom with the heartfelt wish that this awful Welsh country and its even more awful inhabitants had never been created. There followed the final horridness of having to kiss Mr Jones goodnight — while his horrid hands squeezed her breasts and bottom.
She went up to bed telling herself that she must get away from this terrible place.
On the way to the bus the next morning Janet told Stanley she’d give him ten shillings out of her Post Office Savings if he would write the letter. Ten shillings was a lot of money and it obviously made some impression on Stanley. He said he’d think about it — but why was she so keen to get back home? One reason of course was her meeting first thing with the Headmaster again.
In fact it wasn’t so bad this morning. It started off the same — having to take down her knickers and then lift her skirt up round her waist and show him that she’d taken them down. But today Mr Williams decided that that was sufficient demonstration of obedience.
‘No spanking today, Janet, as you seem to be finally settling in all right.’
He made her stand close at his side, though, so that he could pull her knickers up himself. The pattings and fumblings involved in this certainly were not nice but on the other hand it wasn’t as bad as another spanking. She was innocently unaware of quite how much pleasure a man could get from just touching her. So perhaps things were looking up just a little.
More accurately it was simply a lull before the real storm.
It was that Megan Griffiths again. As on the day before, at lunchtime in the playground she started looking for trouble. This time, though, when she found the catcalls didn’t meet with much response she started darting in to pull Janet’s hair and then running away. Janet could ignore a lot but she wasn’t going to take this. She grabbed Megan and pulled her hair in turn.
Very soon the girls were involved in a proper scuffle with Rose joining in as well. And in the middle of this, who should come along but Mr Evans. He immediately waded in, taking full advantage of this chance to grab the girls in their most intimate regions. He separated them, then stood all three up against the wall. Three rather dishevelled, out-of-breath, but nonetheless very attractive 16-year-olds.
He would dearly have loved to deal with them himself, but with other girls around as witnesses it was obvious that the Head would get to hear of it. So the girls were marched off to the Headmaster’s office with Mr Evans’ hands busy behind them slapping and grabbing at this and that as he hustled them along.
Mr Williams heard the caretaker’s account, then thanked him. Mr Evans went out. The Head turned his attention to the three flinching girls.
‘Fighting, is it? That as you know is one thing we do not tolerate at this school.’ The same stomach-churning sing-song diction. ‘Right, you first Megan. Knickers down!’
As Megan Griffiths unhappily raised her hands up under her skirt Mr Williams moved an upright chair to the centre of the room, facing the three girls, and sat down on it.
‘Stand here,’ he said to Megan, indicating a position at his side. ‘And then raise your skirt.’
With a grim look the pretty brunette did as she was told. Janet her heart pounding, saw that Megan had a rather well-developed dark brown bush. And then it disappeared as she went over Mr Williams’ lap, displaying instead a plumply-rounded bottom above her lowered knickers.
Seemingly not bothered by the presence of the other two girls, Mr Williams ran his hand fondlingly over Megan’s bare bottom.
He repeated, ‘Fighting is something I will not tolerate.’ And then his hand started smacking down.
Janet and Rose too, looked on, dry-mouthed, as Megan grunted and gasped and her bottom became redder and redder. Having to watch and knowing that you had the same to come was real mental torture.
Finally red-faced Megan was getting to her feet and then it was Rose’s turn. Janet bit her lip as her friend had to expose herself before the Headmaster. And then Rose was bottom-up, a slimmer bottom than Megan’s, and hateful Mr Williams’ hand was running over it. And then the hand was whacking down. Watching poor Rose get it was even worse than having to watch horrible Megan being dealt with. For one thing Rose was only there because she’d gone to Janet’s assistance.
When the Head had finished with Rose he said she and Megan could go and if he heard of them fighting again they’d really be for it. The door closed — leaving a scared Janet alone with Mr Williams. She was shaking like a leaf.
‘And now we have our London guest,’ he observed. ‘But not a very sensible one or a very properly behaved one, it seems. I warned you, of course, Janet, but you have clearly chosen to ignore that. So therefore I am afraid it will be the cane for you. Kindly lower your knickers.’
It was what he had threatened her with but somehow, it was so awful, she had thought it might be just that — a threat. The reality, that she was now going to get the cane, made her go all hot and cold. And again it was for nothing at all that Janet had done. Eyes filling with tears, her hands went shakily up under her skirt.
‘Knickers down to your stocking tops,’ ordered Mr Williams. ‘And then bend yourself over my desk.’
He now had a wicked-looking cane in his hand — two-foot long, thin and whippy. He was swishing it through the air. Janet gulped. Feeling a bit faint she bent herself over the polished top of his desk.
She felt her skirt being raised — pushed up round her waist. Mr Williams adjusting the position of her legs, parting her feet and placing them just so. Then his hand on her bare bottom getting that just as he wanted it. A pause... and then the cane tap-tapping across the full curve of her bum. And then...
CRACK! The cane zipped into Janet’s bottom, knocking the breath out of her in a gasping yell. The pain was diabolical — it felt like her bottom had been cut in half. In fact where the cane had landed was now a bright red stripe across the soft creamy flesh.
A pause again, while Janet’s bottom jerked and writhed and she absorbed the agony. And then — CRACK! A third scything cut. And — CRACK! again. Then another...
Janet got six. Six angry red stripes on her bottom when it was finally over and she could stand and pull up her knickers.
‘A lesson I hope you’ll remember, Janet,’ said Mr Williams smugly. ‘You may go now.’
Going weeping to the door she couldn’t even walk properly, her bum was still hurting so much. She knew already that she would never forget this to her dying day.
Later, on the bus after school, and with the memory of that dreadful caning still paralysing her mind, Janet upped her offer to Stanley to a whole pound. That was something which her brother clearly could not refuse. He said he would write home that evening and say he wanted to come home. Janet breathed a sigh of relief. She was sure that with both of them writing they would soon be away from dreadful Llangafan.
Stanley’s letter, posted that same evening as Janet’s caning, arrived at Acacia Road in South East London the next morning. There might be a war on but the British postal service continued to work efficiently.
It was 9 o’clock and Mrs Sheila Newman, a still attractive and shapely blonde of 36, was making her breakfast. She was feeling pleasantly relaxed and physically... well satisfied. Physically satisfied in a way that perhaps a married woman whose husband had not been home for the last two weeks should not be feeling physically satisfied. For Sheila Newman had had sexual intercourse one hour earlier.
It was the war...
Jim Newman, Janet and Stanley’s father, had been called up with other Territorial Army men a fortnight ago. So Sheila would have had an empty house when the children were evacuated; except that at the same time there had been a request for people to take in workers from the factory south of London which was going over to munitions production. Sheila had taken in two young men.
They had arrived later the same Saturday that Janet and Stanley went off — two attractive young men with young men’s normal feelings and desires. And as already stated their new landlady, though older, was a pretty and shapely woman — with no husband around. They had almost immediately made it clear that they found Sheila’s shapely body highly desirable. And they made it quite clear that they would like to get properly to grips with it.
It was the sort of situation the war would create everywhere. Sheila and Jim Newman had been in the habit of having intercourse at least three times a week and now, suddenly, Sheila’s ripe body was starved of it. She had always been a faithful wife but now she found herself in an almost impossible situation.
Sheila fought against it, but her body simply responded to the men’s presence — as they teased and complimented and playfully grabbed at her, and quite simply stated what they wanted. It was terrible, but she knew she wanted it too. Her body quivering for it, like a cat on heat.
It did not take long for matters to reach their inevitable conclusion. On the Tuesday evening, when Janet had her second spanking from Mr Jones, Sheila had intercourse with one lodger, Bob, on her sitting room sofa, while the other one, Ron, was out. Later, when Ron returned and learnt what had happened, he too managed to avail himself of that same ultimate satisfaction.
Afterwards, naturally, awful feelings of guilt, etc. But that night both men in turn came into Sheila’s room, and her bed, and Sheila’s ripe body had another double dose of what it had been missing for two weeks.
And so on Thursday morning, when Stanley’s letter reached his mother, she was feeling physically relaxed and satisfied, albeit with those inevitable twinges of conscience. For she had had sexual congress with both her lodgers before they went off to work that morning.
Sheila Newman opened Stanley’s letter and made a face. He wanted to come home, as also Janet, in two letters already, said she wanted to return. Really they were being so silly. They had only been there a few days and had simply not given themselves a chance to settle in. And really they were much safer there, much more so than in London. And also...
And also, there were Bob and Ron. The children would very soon suspect something if they were back in the house. Of course Sheila could give up what she had just started two evenings ago; but once you had started something like that it was almost impossible to stop. Doing it with those two, the two younger men, was a fantastic turn-on — out of this world. And although there was the guilt there was also the fact of the war. It wasn’t her fault, it was the war.
No, in spite of feeling bad about it, Sheila was not going to stop. So Janet and Stanley could stay where they were. It was by far the best thing for them; and anyway it was probably quite a nice place, that Llangafan, if they only gave it a chance. Sheila Newman went to get her writing paper and pen.
As Mrs Newman started her letter in London, her daughter had just made her third morning visit to the Headmaster of Morgan Thomas School. He told the young evacuee that because of what happened yesterday he was going to spank her bottom again this morning. She was ordered to take her knickers down.
At that same time, in his little room at the back of the school Mr Evans, caretaker, was also thinking of Janet Newman. That business yesterday had been quite a little appetiser and it was definitely time he had another proper go at her. He would bring her in here, to his room, on some pretext at lunchtime and then get to work on that saucy backside again. He might also put the squeeze on in another direction. Well, it was a well-known fact, those London girls were no better than they should be — including the ones who liked to play the little innocent.
To complete the picture, a few miles away Mr Ivor Jones also had his thought fixed on pretty Janet Newman. He had just remembered where he could get his hands on a cane — a nice whippy rattan. For clearly after yesterday’s note from Janet’s Headmaster, that she had had to have a caning at school, it was only fitting that Ivor Jones got a cane himself. He would cane her this evening — take her out to the little shed and do it in private. Well, his wife Myrtle was a sensitive soul and would not want to see that cane on the girl’s bare bottom.
Of course, he would spank the girl as well. Using the cane would no doubt be very satisfying; but still not the same as having her struggling on his lap.
And Janet herself?
As she lay over Mr Williams’ lap, gasping and squirming as his hand smacked down, her thoughts naturally were of her mother. Who even at this moment could be writing to say she and Stanley could come back home...