Thursday, 25 October 2012

Another Tim the Tum 6th Form Adventure

From Strict Women - totally inappropriate but I like it!
I got a lot of positive responses to my earlier entry about the spanking culture in my Sixth Form, although I suspect that most readers didn't believe a word of what I wrote.

Everyone is free to make their own mind up of course, but I really was telling it like it was. Maybe just a tad coloured by the mists of memory, of course.

Anyway, I have a further story that I'd like to share, although I confess that I have mixed feelings about this one. I think it's a fun little tale but, if anything, I would guess that you will find it even less plausible than the earlier one. And some of it makes me a little sad.

Again, read it and take it as you like. It is true but if you just enjoy it as a piece of fiction, well, that's okay too.

Let me take you back to the very early 1980's. Kids took 'O'-levels, rather than GCSEs, and teachers still had the power to beat pupils. It was a power that some, at least, were keen to use.

At the time of this story I was 17 years old; I had taken my 'O'-levels, and had something like 10 passes. I'd failed a couple, but the only one I cared about was German. I had a decent accent, I was told, but my grammar was awful, despite a reasonable vocabulary.

I took it again at the end of the Lower Sixth, and once again failed; 2 D grades in one subject should be enough for anyone, but I decided to persevere; for one thing I was going out with a girl who was taking 'A' level German, and I was sure that I could learn enough from her to push me over the edge.

After a very few weeks it became clear that this wasn't working; the time we were supposed to be spending on my German revision was actually being spent exploring each other's bodies, and was actually worsening my girlfriend's performance in her class.
Sarah Gregory Spanking

At this stage an opportunity presented itself; the head of the language department was a lady I will call Wendy Batson, and she was also my House Mistress (the first woman ever to run a house at my school). She offered to spend a couple of hours one afternoon each week tutoring me in German, on a one to one basis, on the understanding that I didn't get in the way of my girlfriend's own work.

I accepted the offer eagerly, especially as I could use the time I would have been expected to use for physical education, for this purpose.

So, each Wednesday afternoon at 1.30 I would toddle off down the corridor to Wendy's office, and we would spend 120 minutes improving my German. She would set some written exercises, and correct them with me, and we would have several sessions of German conversation throughout the afternoon.

While Miss Batson didn't have any scheduled classes during that time she was often called out to deal with house matters, and it was routine for her to take a phone call, listen for a minute, slam down the handset, mutter "damn" under breath, and storm off to sort out a problem.

At the time she was in her mid thirties, and, while not exactly good looking, she was striking, and she had a trim fit figure. Also she was the first lady at the school to regularly wear slacks (all of the girls were required to wear skirts at that time), and, in line with fashion at the time, they were very tight. It was a genuine pleasure to watch her purposeful stride from the back, as the momentum of her walk forced her bottom from side to side.

Ah, happy days!

Anyway, we had been undertaking this weekly ritual for about two months, and had grown very comfortable in each other's presence, joking and poking fun at each other. Against all precedent I was allowed to call her Wendy, so long as no one else was around.

I suppose it was around 2.30 that afternoon when there was a solid knock on the door of her office; the room was quite large, with an initial area containing her desk, at which we worked, and a further elongated bit off to the right, which had a couple of classroom type desks, 2 cupboards and a coatstand. The whole thing resembled a hammer, with the offshoot being a very wide handle.

Wendy stood and opened the door, and I recognised the shape of Mr Castiel, one of the PE teachers who was also the deputy head of my house. The corridor was bright and he was a threatening silhouette in the doorway.
Sarah Gregory Spanking - the legendary AJR

I sat at the far end of the desk from the door, and, despite his usual habit of booming out every word that he uttered, he kept his voice surprisingly low as he spoke to Wendy. I could see her shaking her head, as though what he was saying was not welcome.

"Well, you'll just have to deal with her anyway." His final words were at his more usual volume, and, having thrown them at Wendy, with whom he didn't really get along, he turned and vanished from my sight.

Wendy sighed, and her shoulders slumped. She gestured with her head, and muttered "In".

She stood back from the door, and in walked Louise Plimpton. She was a 16 year old fifth year, tall and elegant, who managed to twist most of the male teachers around her little finger. It was widely imagined that she had a career as a model before her (although she actually married an Italian count in his 30's when she was 18 and left Britain never to be seen here again).

Louise was well aware of her power, and used it to get her own way in everything. On top of this she was something of a bully, and her attractive face was scarred somewhat by a sullen childish look.

Wendy regarded her with a dark look of sudden anger; her foot twitched like the tail of a hissing cat. I shrank back into my chair, keen to stay as far away from this confrontation as I could.

"Again?" Wendy's voice cracked out. "Don't you ever learn?"

Louise shrugged nonchalantly. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a couple of degrees, anticipating a storm. Despite this Wendy's face grew red as her temper bubbled up.

"I've had enough of this. Over there." Wendy pointed into the office annex, and hurried Louise on her way with a little push. It didn't seem to bother her though; her long legs seemed to cover the ground in inches.

Several hours later they arrived at one of the two desks, and Wendy pointed it out to Louise as though she were partially sighted.

The wonderful Leia-Ann, courtesy of my mate John at Triple A Spanking
"There. That one. Bend over." This was when it struck me that my continuing attendance was probably unnecessary. My mind sent a message to my body to stand, and shuffle quietly out. Somewhere along the way the message must have gotten lost.

Wendy turned to one of the cupboards, and slid open the door, She reached in, and produced a large black plimsoll, gripped at the heel. It rebounded from her left hand as she tested it on herself.

Stepping back to the bending girl, who lay fully over the small desk, her arms dangling over the far side from her legs, and her bottom highlighted against the taut material of her tight black skirt, Wendy's face was a blank. There was no pleasure or nerves in the anticipation of her task.

"Twelve I think." Her voice was level, but her words, for the first time, dragged a reaction from Louise, in the form of a low groan.

Wendy was left handed, so she stood with her back to me as she raised the plimsoll high above her shoulder.  As I was sitting at something of an angle I could also see the curves of Louise's bottom. My eyes were fixed on them as the shoe fell, for the first time, across their centre.

There was a noise like a loud clap, followed by the sound of rebounding rubber, and a stifled yelp.

Wendy paused, and appeared to survey her target. Apparently satisfied she raised her weapon again, and drove it like a runaway truck into the bottom of the naughty girl. The resulting sounds were again similar.

Taking her time, Wendy continued to rain the slipper down on the nicely presented rear; each smack was rewarded with a discomforted reply from Louise.whose head dangled down, her face concealed by a curtain of yellow-gold curls.

I think it was the tenth smack that finally made her head jerk back, as the sports shoe bounced off an already sore portion of the mound; I'm sure that Wendy's head nodded in some small gesture of satisfaction.

It also seemed to renew her energy, and the final two spanks seemed likely to drive the punished girl through the desk that was her only support. Each raised a genuine squeal of pain, and the final one was followed by a faintly relieved gasp.
The divine Pandora, from Spanking Sarah

Having finished Wendy stood back, and admired the results of her handiwork.

Louise remained in place for a few seconds, and then shakily pushed her thin frame up from the desk. She stood upright, and her hands promptly found the battered flesh of her behind, clutching the peak of the buttocks in fingers that clenched and unclenched as she tried to drive away the pain. Her teeth were fastened on her upper lip as she tried to suppress the tears that were trickling from the corners of her eyes.

"Right then. I don't expect to see you here again, Plimpton. I won't go easy on you another time. Back to class. And I'll check that you get there." With this Wendy turned back towards her desk, and I rather unfortunately reminded her of my presence by standing. This was particularly ill timed as I had become rather aroused by the spectacle, and my trousers too were fashionably snug.

Louise more or less ran from the room, her vision obscured by a combination of hair and tears; I really don't think that she was ever aware that I had witnessed her punishment.

Wendy knew it though.

"Damn. Forgot you. Why didn't you say something?"
From Northern Spanking

I examined the pointed end of my boots. "Um. Too embarrassed?" It came out as a question; I was testing the water to see if this explanation would wash.

Wendy still had the plimsoll in her hand. She waved it at me.

"Sixth former or not, I've a damn good mind to give you a taste of this!" The edges of her mouth seemed to be tugged upwards a little, almost as though against her will. I wasn't sure, but I thought she was actually amused by the incident.

I was less sure when she reached forward and grabbed my arm with her empty hand. Tugging me with her, she started to walk back towards the classroom desk.

"Hang on! You can't slipper me! I haven't done anything!"

"Oh, I dunno. Disrespect to your House Mistress? Lack of attention to your German work? That would have been enough to get me a slippering when I was at school. And then there's that thing in your trousers. That's certainly misbehaving."

My mouth dropped open. All of this was shocking but I couldn't believe that Wendy had referred to my penis!

In something of a daze I let her guide me to the little desk, and push me forward across it. I felt the shiny material of my trousers pull tight across my raised bum, and, placing my hands by my side, I made as thought to propel myself upright.

"No you don't" said Wendy, placing her right hand against the small of the back and leaning in. I was effectively pinned in place.

I half heard a whoosh, and then a dull thud, before a sting exploded across my bottom. I gulped once, silently, and the plimsoll smacked against my bottom again. With little choice I remained in place as she gave me another four splatting spanks.

"I bet you didn't enjoy that as much." She said. She looked at me as I stood. "I could be wrong though."

The shoe had been quite painful, and I was surprised to find that, if anything, I was more aroused than before. Wendy had an odd look on her face.

"That wasn't fair! It was at least as much your fault I was in the room as mine!" My voice was filled with righteous outrage; I was also seeking to remove any attention from the front of my trousers.

Wendy was always fair in her judgements. "Yeah, you might be right, but it's too late now."
More from Northern Spanking

"Well, it shouldn't be! And it bloody hurt! It's all very well you waving that bloody great thing around but I bet you don't even remember what it feels like!" I didn't mean anything by this. I was just extremely annoyed.

Wendy looked at me. "Teachers don't get spanked."

"Well, they should!"

And then the strangest thing on that afternoon of oddities happened. Wendy tossed the plimsoll to me, and laid herself across the wooden surface that I had so recently vacated.

"Okay then. No more than six. That was all I gave you."

I stood, the plimsoll dangling uselessly from my hand, my mouth open wide enough to catch double decker buses. What the fuck was happening?

Wendy's lovely bottom, covered by purple slacks tight enough to outline her knickers, seemed to twitch invitingly at me. I stared at it, honestly terrified. I'd certainly smacked enough bottoms in the Sixth Form to know what to do, but never that of an adult.
The delicious Miss Harvey from Northen Spanking - no, not a school girl, but an MP. Same difference!

I backed away, repelled as though the delicious flesh was protected by a forcefield radiating out from it. Loosing my footing slightly I backed into a wall, bum first.

The contact stung where Wendy had worked on me with the plimsoll. The pain rocketed me forward, my arm rising high entirely without conscious thought, and I walloped the slipper down with all of my strength, across the highest peaks of Wendy's derriere. She was a tough old bird; she took the blow without reacting.

This stiffened my resolve (amongst other things). Determined to get a reaction I smacked the shoe in a side arm motion across her left buttock; not pausing I repeated the action across the right one. Wendy sighed.

I paused, and Wendy turned her head towards me.

"Had enough?" She asked

"No, no! You said six." I gulped out, almost falling over my words in my eagerness.

Wendy chuckled, a wide smile splitting her rounded face. "Okay then."

This time I placed the plimsoll against the fleshiest part of her butt, and, my aim confirmed, I thumped in a volley of three resounding spanks.

"Wow!" gasped Wendy, through tightened lips. Straightening I was pleased to see her hand steal around behind her, and start rubbing. She remained in place for a moment, regarding me with deep eyes; far below the surface there was a twinkle of something I couldn't quite make out.

Pouty Mischa from Punished Brats (and Pixie, of course)
"Okay then. Conversation time. Sit down." And the lesson continued, with no further mention of what had happened.

The next Wednesday afternoon I skipped happily to my German lesson, anticipating all sorts of delights, none of which materialised. Despite my fondest hopes there was never any recurrence of that afternoon, and, on the one occasion a girl was sent to her for punishment, Wendy made me leave the office whilst she administered it.

This is all oh so long ago now. Wendy died horribly early at the age of 42, from breast cancer. It turned out that she was a lesbian who had been living in a stable and loving relationship with a girl she met at University; they had kept their love entirely secret until after Wendy's death. I'm glad that such subterfuge would no longer be necessary but, at the time, Wendy would certainly never have progressed in her career had it been known.

I've never understood what sparked her actions that afternoon; I think perhaps she spanked me in anger without thinking it through, and then her sense of fairness compelled her to let me get my own back.

That may be the answer, but I find it hard to believe. I am sure it was nothing of a sexual nature; I certainly wasn't her type! Given the teacher/pupil relationship that can only be a good thing.

As I said at the top of the page, most of you won't believe any of this anyway, and fair enough. I've put up a little poll about it, should you be so moved.

There are a couple more stories about my school that I could tell you; they may come out yet.

All the best


Pictures are sources as marked; somehow school girl spankings seemed appropriate!

1 comment:

  1. I will believe you. Why not, stranger things have happened.