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Saturday, 15 December 2018

A Burning Question

From Roué 38
In trouble again — that’s Janice Quigley, Form 6A. Quite how she managed to get herself into so much bother with such frequency was totally beyond her. She was naughty it was true; but then so were practically all of her contemporaries. Every one of her chums smoked the odd cigarette; skipped the occasional lesson; cheated in a test now and then. But she, for some inexplicable reason, always ended up paying for her misbehaviour — her friends, for the most part, escaping punishment. Was it that she wasn’t as careful as her pals? She’d asked herself that question a hundred times. No, as far as she was concerned she took all the precautions that the others took. There was simply something about her; some quality of which she was unaware that drew a teacher’s attention to her like a pin to a magnet.
Such had been the case this very morning, during netball practice. Barbara Hammond, her very best friend, had somehow managed to come into possession of a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. These she secreted down the front of her navy-blue PT knickers and, one by one, when the Games Mistress was looking elsewhere, Janice, Barbara and three other girls darted behind the PT equipment hut and indulged in a few swift drags. Each of them had carried this out without anything untoward occurring — until, that is, it came to Janice’s second turn. With the offending cigarettes and lighter tucked inside her knickers, she leaned back against the outbuilding and took a long drag, only to cough it out upon hearing a tapping at the window of the hut. She threw the cigarette to the floor, stubbed it out and turned to see the stern face of Mr Alderton.
The Physics Master made his way to the door and let himself out of the shed. Janice was frozen to the spot, silently bemoaning her luck. He looked her up and down, his eyes settling on the front of her PT knickers. He extended an arm and held a hand out. Reluctantly, Janice slipped her right hand under the garment bringing it out with the forbidden articles. Within seconds they were safely inside the teacher’s jacket pocket, as the unfortunate girl stood, arms at her sides, her head bowed.
‘See me at lunchtime in Room Fourteen,’ was his terse, straight-to-the-point response, before he strode off across the playground.
Janice emitted an impassioned expletive, not quite loud enough for the man to hear as he made his way back to the labs on the far side of the grounds. She emerged from behind the hut to inform her chums of her ill luck. All sorts of insults were fired at her — the girls being most put out at having their illicit fag smoking escapade so swiftly curtailed. No-one was as vehement in her scorn than the previous owner of the packet of ciggies and the lighter. Barbara gave her friend a stream of abuse, finishing off by telling the girl, ‘You’d better not split on me, Janice!’
The latter assured her that, of course, she had no intention of putting her best pal in it.
‘Well,’ added Barbara, as they all, upon being seen talking by the Games Mistress, tramped back into their respective positions on the netball court, ‘you just make sure that you don’t… He’s bound to ask.’
‘I won’t Babs… Honest I won’t.’ And Janice meant it. Apart from Barbara being her closest school chum, the girl was known throughout the school for her physical attributes — her successes in playground brawls were many.
No, Janice wouldn’t be splitting on the girl, but there was the point — brought up by Barbara — that Mr Alderton would want to know the source of the cigarettes. If she told him they were hers she would doubtless be sent to the Head for the cane. Owning such items was most definitely a caning offence, whereas being in possession of them usually resulted in a less severe punishment. What was she to do? There, really, was only one course of action to take. As pathetic as it might sound, she would have to say that she found them.
Janice didn’t bother with lunch; she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry what with the impending ordeal. Instead, at the end of the morning’s lessons, she made her way to Room Fourteen — a spare room which was set aside for the punishment of naughty girls such as her.
Mr Alderton was already there, and he told her to wait outside until he was good and ready to see her. She sat on one of the chairs that lined the wall outside the dreaded room… and waited.
Eventually, she saw the figure of the man standing at the open door. She looked up, trying her hardest to give the impression of a poor, unfortunate innocent. His wry smile told her that he wasn’t likely to fall for such tricks.
‘No lunch today?’ he enquired — the question simply dripping with sarcasm.
Janice didn’t bother to answer.
‘Not hungry, eh? Never mind… I’ll give you something… Food for thought, young lady.’
With that, he bade the girl enter. He then shut the door and, with the two of them standing in the centre of the room, withdrew the cigarettes and the lighter.
‘Okay, Janice,’ he began, ‘whose are they?’
The girl bowed her head. Realising her reluctance to tell, Mr Alderton let out a sigh and said, ‘I’ve got all the time in the world, young lady… If you don’t tell me this lunchtime I’ll have you back here at four o’clock… Now, where did you get them from, girl?’
With eyes still cast downwards towards the carpet, Janice spoke. ‘I… I f-found them, sir…’ her voice trailing off at the end. She was embarrassed at putting forward such a weak explanation, and knew that the man would take it as an insult to his intelligence.
‘You expect me to believe that, do you?’ he intoned sternly. Janice remained silent. ‘Very well,’ he sighed, ‘we’ll just have to see if a bottom warming does anything to elicit the truth from you, shan’t we?’
‘B-but, sir…’
‘Yes, Janice… Got something to add?’
‘No sir,’ the girl murmured. There was, indeed, nothing else she could say. She’d been caught and that, unfortunately for her, was that.
‘I hope you realise, Janice, that owning cigarettes is an automatic caning offence. By being in possession of such things leads one to believe that you were the owner of them. Unless you can come up with names… Well, need I tell you what I will have to do?’
No answer was forthcoming from her Mr Alderton took hold of her right arm and led her over to the rocking-chair in the corner ‘Kneel up on that,’ he ordered, Janice meekly obeying. Anything was better than splitting on her friend; the alternative being a good-hiding of a different variety from Barbara — plus an end to their comradeship.
She knelt on the hard wooden seat of the chair, leaning forward and grasping its back. It would soon be over, she told herself, and then she could hold her head high when she got back to her chums in the playground.
Mr Alderton moved round to her left, and in an instant the back of her school skirt had been flipped up onto her back. A cool breeze wafted across the tops of her thighs, and her bottom, clad in its tight white knickers (Janice had donned a nice, silky pair for the occasion; not only did she despise the regulation cotton ones, she also felt that a sexier, ‘grown-up’ pair might have the effect of melting Mr Alderton’s heart a little) her bottom felt oh, so vulnerable; as if it were the only object in the room.
It was, needless to say, the only thing in the room of any interest to Mr Alderton, and he studied its shape within the confines of the non-regulation knickers. Taking aim, he lifted his right arm, and with a resounding SMACKK! his hand fell onto the far cheek of the out-thrust rear. Janice inhaled sharply. A second smack landed on the other buttock, and again was met with a sharp intake of breath.
The Physics Master, away from the world of Particles and Forces; of Electrons and Photons, was now turning his eye to the more beautiful things that life had to offer — things such as naughty schoolgirls with their skirts raised, their pretty bottoms encased in delicate knickers; things such as the spankings of said schoolgirls. A Physics Master’s job was not the most exciting in the world, but, he mused, hand hovering above Janice’s delectable rump, it did, from time to time, have its perks… thanks to young ladies like Janice Quigley, 6A.
About six mildish spanks had landed on the seat of Janice’s tightly beknickered bottom when the teacher decided it was well past the time that flesh should meet flesh. The smacks which had gone before had probably stung the girl, he thought but that was about all. Besides, the marvellous thing about a girl’s behind clothed in snugly-fitting knickers was that it made one wonder at what lay beneath the material. He’d give her another chance to tell the truth, though — he was, though Janice probably found it hard to believe right now, a gentleman after all.
‘Well, Janice — anything to tell me?’
‘No, sir… It was like I said; I found them.’
‘Very well. You can’t say you haven’t had the opportunity. I really don’t understand you girls. You stick together like glue. Why don’t you tell me who gave them to you? It would save your bottom a bit of pain, girl.’ Janice remained dumb. ‘Perhaps they were yours… eh? Either way I’ll find out.’
He then smoothed his right hand over the seat of the girl’s silky knickers, feeling a slight warmth emanating from within. With his hand now at the waistband of the garment, he slowly drew the material down over Janice’s bottom. She emitted a startled gasp as her nether regions were bared.
The knickers encircled the tops of her thighs. Her backside was now suitably bare. And what a sight it made. A slight pinkness was apparent from the few spanks she’d already received — apart from that the schoolgirl bottom-cheeks were a wondrous pure unsullied white.
He raised his hand again… then it fell with a delicious SLAPP!! Janice winced as the smart was felt. Then again her bottom — this time the left cheek — was smitten.
‘Owch!… Sir!
‘Silence, girl! Do you want the entire school to hear what a big baby you are? You will keep quiet — unless that is you have something of interest to tell me…’
Janice wriggled her bum in an effort to assuage the stinging. She gripped onto the chair, awaiting the next smack. It came. SLAPP!! Janice stifled a squeal. The next spank fell right across and low down on the centre of her cheeks. It was administered with such force that the chair rocked forward. She thrust her hands out and took hold of the arms of the chair to steady herself. Mr Alderton assured her that she wouldn’t fall off, then… SLAPP!!! — another meeting of palm and bottom.
It was an awful ordeal for Janice. It was true that her bottom was comparatively experienced when it came to being smacked, slippered and (less frequently) caned, but rarely were punishments carried out on the bare. Indeed, old Mr Harrington only rulered a girl’s palms; Mr Medham was a bit over-keen on using the slipper — but it was always on the seat of a girl’s knickers, sometimes he didn’t even bother lifting their skirts; just getting the culprit to hold the garment down at the hem so that it stretched tightly over the target. Even the Head more often than not caned on the seat of the knickers, and only Miss Parfitt, the Games Mistress, spanked on the bare. Yet, here she was, in Room Fourteen, bare-bottomed and being spanked by a man! It was all too humiliating.
It was this abject embarrassment that brought about the first tear from Janice. It trickled down her right cheek as she knelt there on that hard chair, feeling very sorry for herself. Mr Alderton noticed it, and told her to ‘grow up!’
The spanks kept coming — well spaced-out, and now, in between each one, he asked and re-asked the same question.
SLAPP!! — ’Whose are they?’ (No reply). SLAPP!! — ’Whose are they?’ (No answer). SLAPP!! ‘Whose are they?!!!’ SLAPP!! SLAPP!! SLAPP!!
Janice couldn’t tell; wouldn’t tell. She’d just have to grin and bear it — awful though it was. Again and again the slaps fell; again and again the question was asked of her; and again and again she refused to tell. It would be worth it in the end, she tried to assure herself.
Approximately ten more smacks followed, then the man, standing back, announced, ‘You will remain here for the rest of the lunchbreak. You will think over your position, and at four o’clock will return here to see me with, I hope, a more believable explanation. Is that understood, young lady?’ Janice nodded. ‘I did not hear that!’ boomed the man.
‘Yes, sir,’ she whispered.
‘Right… Four o’clock it is,’ he said and then left.
Janice couldn’t believe that her ordeal was still not at an end. Surely he wasn’t going to carry on this charade at four o’clock? Maybe it was just his last attempt to get at the truth. Well, she told herself, I shan’t tell him… whatever he says or does. A deep gloom came over her at this point. Her knees were aching almost as much as her bottom, so she decided to take a chance that he wouldn’t pop back in, and clambered down off the chair and planted her burning cheeks on its seat. She bowed her head as she sat considering the situation. All this, she thought, for a measly few puffs. She wouldn’t tell him whatever he did, she’d told herself. Just what could he have in mind? If she admitted to owning the fags he’d no doubt send her to the Head. If she carried on with her tale of finding them he’d more than likely report her anyway. The idea was occurring to her that, maybe — just maybe, by splitting on Barbara she’d be choosing the lesser of the evils.
Head bowed towards her lap, knickers encircling her knees, Janice spent a rather uncomfortable — mentally and physically — hour on the rocking-chair in Room Fourteen.
Fortunately for Janice, Physics wasn’t on the timetable that afternoon. She did, however, bump into the redoubtable Mr Alderton during break-time. He gave her an enigmatic smile and, taking her to one side of the main corridor as her friends — including an anxious-looking Barbara Hammond — made their giggling way out to the playground, he reminded her of their rendezvous at four. Then, just as Janice made to go, he sidled up to her and said in a whisper, albeit an uncompromising one, that when there she was to wait for him as he would be delayed for ten minutes or so. He then added in a very matter-of-fact manner, ‘and be sure you are prepared.’
Janice eyed him with more than a little curiosity. By way of explanation, he added, ‘You are to be in vest and knickers, my girl,’ and went about his business.
Outside in the playground, her friends dearly wanted to know what he’d said — none more so than Barbara. Embarrassed, Janice told them that he simply reminded her of her appointment.
Letting out a long sigh, she resigned herself to playing it by ear; see what the man had to say; see what sort of mood he was in. It was quite possible that all this — the waiting for him in the punishment room; the standing, hands on head, in just her vest and knicks — was by way of a last despairing attempt; he could be doing this to scare her into confessing… possibly.
The door opened, and Janice put her hands back on her head. ‘Terribly sorry to keep you waiting so long, young lady,’ Mr Alderton said with mock concern. It was pretty obvious that it had been intentional. Shutting the door, he continued, ‘I hope that there will be no more wasting of our time, young Janice.’ He looked questioningly at the girl. She did not speak. ‘I will ask you again… Whose cigarettes and lighter are they? Eh, girl? Are they yours?’
‘I told you,’ Janice replied, ‘I…’
‘Young lady, I am sick and tired of your pathetic excuses. I will not stand for any more of this nonsense. You will tell me the truth this second, or I will take you along to see the Head first thing tomorrow morning. Now… what is it to be?’
Janice simply hadn’t expected the man to be so insistent. She took her hands from her head, turned to face him, sighed and said, ‘Okay, okay… They are mine.’
‘Yours?’ Mr Alderton intoned, ‘are you sure that you’re not covering for someone? Think carefully now, Janice. If you are covering for one of your friends, ask yourself this: would they do the same for you?’
‘Look, I’ve told you… They were mine, alright? Now can’t we just get it over with?’
There was a brief pause before the teacher spoke again. ‘Do you know Mary Campbell of 6C?’ Janice nodded. ‘She was caught smoking just last week…. Told the teacher who caught her that they were hers… Sent to the Head, she was… Do you know what she got? Hmmm?’
The girl shook her head — she didn’t reckon she’d enjoy hearing the next statement.
‘The Head,’ Mr Alderton went on, ‘gave her the cane… one stroke for every cigarette smoked. There were twelve left in her packet — so, she got eight strokes.’
Janice tried to imagine what eight with the cane would be like. She’d had the cane three times in her school career; the first time she’d had two; the second, four, and her last visit to the woman’s study had resulted in five. She’d found that most recent whacking almost unbearable. Eight strokes would be just too much. But, wait a minute… a terrible thought dawned upon her, and the Physics Master showed that he was reading her mind.
‘Yes, Janice,’ he said, a slight smile on his lips, ‘there was only one of the nasty things left, wasn’t there? Nineteen smoked. Now, I’m not saying that the Head will give you nineteen strokes — not all at once, anyway…’
Janice was near to tears. ‘Please don’t tell her, sir… I won’t do it again… please, sir…’
‘But it is my duty to inform the Headmistress, younglady.’
‘I… kn-know, sir, but…’
‘Of course… I could punish you myself…’
Janice looked into his leering eyes. What was she to do. She tried to sum up the situation. What the heck, she thought, he’s already seen my bum. ‘You… you won’t cane me, will you, sir?’
‘Well, it is a caning offence…’ he gazed into her moist eyes. A lengthy pause, complete with deafening silence, ensued, the man revelling in the schoolgirl’s discomfort. ‘But I think we can sort something out… Tell you what, you wait here and I’ll be back in a trice. Hands on head, now — and face the wall.’
He returned moments later with a large, rubber-soled carpet slipper Quite where he’d got it from was anyone’s guess. Janice wasn’t bothering herself with the question of its source. She eyed the implement with awe. She’d had the slipper on many previous occasions and, while nowhere near as bad as the cane, it held painful memories for her.
‘Bend over and touch your toes,’ came the calm instruction. Janice obeyed, aware of her knickers stretching over the fleshy expanse of her behind.
WHUPP!! — The first one fell, and the girl emitted a soft moan.
WHUPP!! — Again the sole of the slipper came into contact with her knicker-clad cheeks. WHUPP!! — A third stroke fell right across the centre of both cheeks. Janice let out a little squeal. The heat was being felt now — her tight knickers seemed as if they were holding it in.
The order for her to take down her knickers — while almost inevitable — still came as something of a shock to Janice. Still, she thought, at least the instruction was for her to take them down herself. She wouldn’t have to undergo the ignominy of having the garment lowered by him.
Slowly, very deliberately, the knickers were inched down over her loins — her bare bottom, for the second time that day, coming into view. Mr Alderton gazed with delight as the girl’s delectable hindquarters appeared in all their glory. Again, there were a few reddish-pink blotches from the earlier strokes, but, he mused, it would be a lot redder and a good deal more sore by the time he had finished with it — that was for sure.
‘I think,’ he began as he stared at Janice’s teenage bottom, ‘I think we’ll make it nineteen, shall we… Better than nineteen with the Head’s cane, don’t you think?’
Janice was nonplussed. He looked deep into her eyes. A reply was called for.
‘But, sir…’
‘Yes, girl?’
‘You’ve already given me ten or more.’
‘Those? Huh! — They were just by way of warming you up… For the real punishment. Now, nineteen — agreed?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Janice replied dolefully.
‘Good. Now, stand up straight and thrust your arms out, hands on the wall.’
The girl obeyed. ‘D-Don’t…’
‘Don’t — what, girl?!’
‘Please, sir — don’t make them hard… I… I’ve never had as many as that before… And you did already spank me earlier on, sir…’
‘Oh! And I suppose you’re going to tell me that you felt that spanking, aren’t you? Eh?’
‘It did sting, sir.’
‘Well, this will sting a great deal more, Janice… And I’ll lay them on as hard as I choose. You, young lady, are in no position to bargain. Remember, I could always send you to see the Headmistress…’
Janice fell silent, faced the wall, bit her lower lip, and waited for the first blow. She’d, indeed, never had so many strokes of the slipper before. Until now, the most severe slippering she’d undergone was about six months previous, when the Games Mistress punished her for fooling about on the ropes in the gym. That bit of naughtiness had earned the girl twelve full-blooded whacks with a gym shoe on the seat of her tight shorts followed by a few less severe wallops as she danced around in the showers; hopping from toe to toe as the floppy implement slapped against her bare, wet bottom and thighs.
WHUPP!! — Stroke number one landed on the uppermost part of her naked rear. Janice gave a stifled yelp upon receipt of this.
‘Count!’ the man ordered, ‘Out loud.’
‘One,’ Janice uttered.
These first three had fallen with barely a pause between. Mr Alderton was warming to his task. He realised at this point, though, that he should space the strokes out a bit — let each one sink in, not to mention the fact that by doing this he wouldn’t just be prolonging Janice’s agony; he’d also be prolonging his pleasure.
He stood back from the shivering girl and admired his handiwork. He had concentrated on the upper portion of her backside, and this area was fast turning a bright-red. It was in complete contrast to the rest of her rear — especially the lower cheeks, which he fully intended to deal with later on.
The next stroke took Janice completely by surprise. Her face was pressed against the wall, and all she saw was the shadow of the man’s arm falling. A split-second later the impact of the blow was felt.
‘Oh! Oooohh! F-F-Four,’ she panted.
‘Ow!!’ Janice’s yelp was ear-piercing, and a few Ouch’s and Oh’s later she said in a whisper, ‘F-Five.’
The teacher was working his way down her bottom. The area at the top of this part of her teenage anatomy, just below her vest, was now a deep-red in colour and would, he decided, come in for no more treatment. His ultimate goal was the fleshier area of her lower buttocks — with, perhaps, one or two being applied to her tender thigh-tops.
He decided, also, that he would alternate the strokes; first one on the left cheek; then one on the right. He lifted his arm again, took a good firm grip on the slipper and let fly with the next stroke.
Janice exhaled with a ‘Shoosh!’, and counted aloud, ‘Sssixxx!’
That had been on her left buttock, and the man now turned his attentions to the right side of her bare bottom. The slipper fell with a whizz through the air.
‘Owp! Ow! Oh! Oooh! S-Seven.’
She couldn’t help it. She tried her best to stay as still as possible; to get the whole regrettable affair over with as quickly as she could. Without thinking, her left arm came back behind her to try to protect her burning bottom. It was only halfway to its target when Mr Alderton caught hold of the girl’s wrist. He held the arm firmly out of the way and landed an especially crisp stroke on her left cheek.
‘Oh! Oh! D-Don’t… pleeese!’
‘How many is that?’
‘Er… er… eight, sir. But, please, sir — no more. It’s too much… It’s too hard.’
‘You will stop your childish whining, girl. And, if you fail to call out the number of a stroke again, I shall give you that stroke again, understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Janice replied.
She saw his arm and that slipper rising again, and turned her head to face the wall. The shadow of the slipper-wielding arm was cast on the wall close to her, and she closed her eyes, not wishing to see its journey downwards.
‘Owch! N-Nine! Owwaww!’
‘Almost halfway there,’ the man announced, ‘and, just think, after this one you’ll be over halfway through.’ With that he let fly with a real stinger on the centre of the girl’s right buttock.
‘Oh! Oh! T-Ten.’
This man, thought Janice, certainly can whack. He was, understandably, far more heavy-handed than both the Games Mistress, Mr Mendham, and her mum. She had nine more to come — the thought of those filling her with dread. Was he really going to go through with all nineteen? There could be only one answer to that… and it wasn’t No.
WHUPP!! —The slipper landed on the centre of her left buttock. Janice contorted her bottom, drawing in the flesh on receipt of this stroke.
‘Arghh!’ she wailed, following this with various Oooh’s and Ohh’s before mouthing the customary, ‘Eleven.’
Mr Alderton watched in wonderment as Janice’s teenage bum wriggled and squirmed — the cheeks alternatively being drawn in, then pushed — almost indecently — outwards. The pink hue was spreading down now to the lower portions of the schoolgirl rear, and the centre of the buttocks were turning from a soft pink to a bright, deep-red. There were eight more to go, and these would be concentrated upon the base of the bottom-cheeks; an area hitherto untouched by the slipper.
Again the man’s arm was raised… again it fell, the implement landing low down on the girl’s right cheek. WHUPP!!
‘Twelve!’ Janice emitted before wriggling her rear-end and Ooohing a few more Oooh’s.
The Physics Master was by now well into his stride. Prior to Janice’s spanking earlier this day he had become a little rusty with regard to attending to girl’s bottoms in this way. His ladyfriend, of course, permitted him the occasional pre-intercourse bottom-warming, but, apart from the fact that she would allow him a few playful hand slaps, it just wasn’t the same as the real thing; a genuine hiding meted out severely for a genuine and well-deserved reason. Yes, he was back in his old rhythm now. The last punishment he’d handed out to one of the pupils had been some two months previous, but a few minutes with the pretty Janice’s bottom had been all that was needed for him to re-acquaint himself with the subtle art of chastising naughty young ladies.
WHUPP!! — Another blistering blow fell on the left cheek of the girl.
‘Argh! Owwch!… Th-thirteen,’ Janice yelled as a tear dropped from her right eye. She had, for the last two or three wallops, been fighting back the inevitable flow. Now, though, it was obvious that the battle was futile. The abject humiliation of having her bare bottom on display to the Physics Master, coupled with the soreness of her bottom, plus, of course, each new stinging swipe of that slipper — all of these factors — made it impossible not to cry. It may make her seem like a silly baby; show the man that she was unable to take her medicine as a fairly grown-up young lady, but, well, it couldn’t be helped, could it?
The slipper fell again, this time appreciably harder. WHUPP!!!
‘Ow! Owaww!’ Janice wriggled her stinging rear provocatively. ‘F-Fourteen!’ she breathed, the cheeks of her bottom opening wide, showing off more than she would have chosen to. Janice was, however, totally unaware of the display she was making of herself. The man standing over her, brandishing the carpet slipper, was all too aware of what her contortions were bringing into view.
Again she made an attempt to put her trembling hand to her burning bottom, and again was thwarted; her arm being locked into position at her right side. Her breathing had become urgent. She panted as the next stroke was awaited. Seeing the shadow of the man’s arm descending again, the panting became faster and faster until… WHUPP!!! — another one landed, well down on her right cheek.
Through her tears Janice gave the word, ‘F-F-Fif… t-teen,’ as her entire body shook and the tears cascaded down her pretty cheeks. It was her other cheeks that Mr Alderton was interested in, though — and they were certainly taking on a quite remarkable tint. He held the slipper higher than usual and brought it down with something akin to his full might. WHUPPP!!!
Janice yelped and swung her smitten rear from side to side in an utterly vain attempt to ease the pain. There was a long pause before she spoke; the pain taking its time to properly sink in. Her lower lip trembled, and she whispered, ‘S-Sixteen.’
Mr Alderton introduced a new tactic at this point, letting the woebegone girl have two wallops in very quick succession. No sooner had she hissed, ‘Ssseventeen,’ than another, really hard one fell on the lowest part of her right cheek. Through experience Janice knew this area to be the most tender, and she wailed an ‘Eighteeeen!’ as the tears continued to flow and she began to lose control, sobbing convulsively, her whole young body writhing to and fro as she stood, knees knocking together and bottom trembling.
‘One more to go,’ announced Mr Alderton. ‘You’ve taken it well, Janice. This one, though, will be a bit special… so prepare yourself for it… contain yourself… settle down.’
Slowly but surely the girl’s body ceased its writhing about. Her bottom stilled itself. The man told her to ‘Stick it out,’ but she found that she simply couldn’t comply with this order; she couldn’t produce her bum in such a way — it would be as if she were asking for it to be hit.
Realising the girl’s problem — he was, after all, an understanding chap — he wrapped his left arm round the front of her, placed his hand on her tummy and with a gentle push presented Janice’s backside in the required manner. She breathed in quickly when she felt his hand in such a place. He wasn’t actually touching her there, but all the same she was not used to having a man’s hand where his was.
With her bottom stuck out more prominently than it had been for any previous stroke, Janice leant right forward to maintain her balance… and waited. She closed her damp eyes, gritted her teeth… and waited.
With one almighty sweep of Mr Alderton’s arm, the slipper fell right across the very centre of the very lowest parts of both cheeks. WHUPPP!!!
There was a pause, then Janice yelled louder than ever she had before. The slipper had landed on a portion of her sit-upon that had thus far escaped. This she might have been thankful for, as at least it wasn’t a stroke upon an area already painful from a previous wallop. This wasn’t the case, however, because — as she and Mr Alderton knew — this was the softest, tenderest part of her buttocks.
She howled lustily, her bottom waggling and wiggling, the cheeks opening and closing — all her intimate charms on show. ‘Ow! Ow! Arghh! Owch!’ The sobbing responses came. Then she mouthed in between her crying, ‘Nnnineteeeen!!’ At last it was over The man put down the slipper and she put a hand to her stinging, throbbing bottom.
He told the girl to put her hands on her head after allowing her a little rub, and to wait for ten minutes ‘contemplation’. Janice was pleased about this, for she felt in no state to leave for home straight away.
She was told again that she had taken her punishment well; that at least it wasn’t as bad as the Head’s cane would have been; and that he hoped she’d learned her lesson. She nodded dumbly at this, and the man left the room, slipper in hand.
Silence fell about her like a warm blanket the sounds of the slipper and her own cries just memories now. What was still with her, though, was the awful pain in her bottom. The sharp stinging had gone, and had been substituted by a throbbing — a warm throbbing which started at her backside and flowed throughout her entire body.
Her arms fell down from her head, and she stood with her hands crossed in front of her. Although she was now alone in the room, and her naked front was against the wall, she felt very bare all of a sudden. It now began to occur to her just how much of a spectacle she must have made of herself when Mr Alderton had been here with her. She blushed deeply, but the feeling of embarrassment didn’t last long. Her bottom was starting to burn now, and she put her left hand round to gently feel it. She thought that she could actually feel the heat being radiated by it with her hand an inch or so away from it, and when she put her hand to her left cheek the warmth was most evident. It was burning!
She thought she heard someone outside the door, and immediately put her hands back on her head. The footsteps — were they Mr Alderton’s — moved on, leaving her to reflect on the whole terrible episode. She had remained loyal to her best mate… but had paid dearly for that loyalty. She couldn’t wait to tell Babs just what she had been made to undergo.
At that moment she’d have been nothing short of delighted to learn that Barbara had stolen the cigarettes from her mother that morning; that she had owned up to it when grilled by her father, and that she, herself, had been taken over a parental knee for a sound spanking on the seat of her school knickers. But that as they say, is another story…

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