The Caning Headmistress

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A mixture of even more anger, surprise, delight that he could now do (in his mind at least) even more to me. She spanked me good and hard, bringing that slipper down, the sound of that hard rubber sole on my bottom echoing around the silent hall, leaving trails of fire behind it. I was unaware of what effect it was having on Peter but sitting down was still unpleasant for me as I squirmed around on the seats.

To cut a long story short, in a show of bravado I opted for the latter, thinking a spanking would soon be over and wouldn’t really hurt.

But, by that time, I was getting used to it and it was always done without the dreadful and seemingly interminable scolding that marked discipline at home. And ran out, slamming the door hard enough on my exit that one of the glass panes cracked quite badly. I remember being slapped full on in the face as a 13 year old by the teacher and watched a friend having his head banged on a desk!

Mam and dad worked full time and were going to send me to boarding school till Aunty Joan said she’d look after me. I went to a strange little school run by a head mistress who was in her mid-80s when I joined and was quite frankly an old battleaxe. I attended the detention after school and was recorded as present by the teacher taking the detention.I remember thinking how strange it was that I had not remembered it before, as I have had a lifelong fascination with CP and bottoms. In my first four years at the school all teachers used the slipper, and the cane was reserved for more serious offences. She’d stand up from her chair, raise the strap over her shoulder and swish it down, usually once, but sometimes the command would be: “Change,” and, to a gasp from the class, she’d deliver a second cut. By today’s standards, I was probably being abused because there’s no doubt Mrs Pentire enjoyed spanking me and was looking for excuses.