Spanking Tales of the Unexpected Read online

  The blow of the cane when it landed was so painful, so intense and so beyond any previous experience, that she screamed, arched up and almost rolled off the bed. What made her stay in place? Who can tell, conscience is strange, but she did.

  The nasty intensity of each stroke made her body jerk to the blows, and when they got to ten she pleaded to know how many more.

  "Six," was the reply. "Sixteen was your age when you deceived us all, and put me in the position of being complicit in your truancy."

  Six more strokes with the hard cane across the delicate softness of her bottom. Six more burning welts to join the other ten. Six more lines of fire where no fire should exist, only the soft stroking of a lover. How was she to bear it? How did she bear it? She bore it by using her conscience to bring out her strong inner resolve. She bore all six extra strokes, sixteen fearsome strokes of the hard cane in all, until finally she lay sobbing with a mixture of embarrassment, repentance and pain.

  "Go to bed now, Sally, and sleep."

  When she awoke it was to the throbbing welts on her bottom, but in spite of how much it had hurt she was pleased. She was relieved not to have those four days on her conscience, they had been wilder than she now wanted to think about. She had confirmed that the phenomenon wasn't just to do with the fire, candle and nightdress, she had taken all sixteen strokes and held her position. She considered, but rejected, getting an analgesic spray for her bottom, No, it would not do, she deserved her punishment, and every twinge would be endured not dulled.

  Sally now had an idea, an idea of such breathtaking audacity she could hardly believe it. She began to research the internet, and even joined several chat rooms. She began to put together a plan, a 'fully costed' plan, as our lying political masters call their nonsense. But no business plan will work if the core idea is flawed; it would need testing, thorough testing. Sally had some ideas, but she needed to be sure that the bed really would work every time, and reluctantly she decided she needed to sleep in it one more time.

  This time she didn't even wear pyjamas but her usual longish T-shirt which barely covered her bottom. Men were inclined to become very excited when they saw her in it. Once, she had stayed at the house of a boyfriend, and walked down to make herself tea early one morning. The boyfriend's father was sitting at the kitchen table, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw her, but she had pretended not to notice.

  She took her radio to bed with her, and left it softly playing her favourite station. She was awoken at around the same time as before, her radio was no longer playing, there was a light in the room but no lights were on, and her grandmother stood looking at her.

  "I was surprised at how much deception you had engaged in, young Sally, although I knew you were not as pure as you liked to pretend. Oh, don't look surprised, your idiot parents may have been deceived but I was not, but even I did not know the extent of it."

  "I'm sorry," Sally whispered. "I didn't like doing it but well, I am sorry. I suppose you are going to beat me too."

  "My dear girl, when I was your age my father thrashed me black and blue for far less than you have done. I am going to punish you for the direct lies you told me. You will feel better afterwards. For every action there is an accounting you know."

  Sally once again got out of bed, her heart racing as she anticipated the pain she was sure to feel, however the beating was carried out. She half expected to be made to lie over the bed as before, but her grandmother didn't order that.

  "Fetch the hairbrush from the top right hand drawer of that chest of drawers over there."

  Sally did as she was told, and found not only a large, old, wooden hairbrush but that her hands were shaking. Her grandmother sat at a dressing table stool, and Sally went over her lap for the first time in her life. Her grandmother felt solid enough and seemed real enough, which was so frightening she didn't like to think about it. Once the spanking started, she wasn't able to because it hurt too much.

  Nothing in her life had prepared her for the intensity of a wooden hairbrush landing on her bare bottom. She went rapidly from a shrill cry of dismay and surprise at the first smack to wailing and kicking as the hairbrush smacked down again and again, turning her shapely rear end into a nasty mess of colours. Finally, she was sent sobbing to bed and then later awoke for the third time to an extremely painful bottom. It was a nasty motley set of colours ranging from dark red through purple to blue and a colour so dark it was almost black. Sally had an epiphany at that point, she realised that she had needed to be punished for her own inner peace. She wished she had not behaved the way she had in the past but it was over, and her three strange punishments had drawn a firm line under it. She resolved to take no pain killers, use no cushions or analgesic sprays, but to suffer the bruising she had without complaint.

  Deliberately sitting on a hard kitchen chair, with a soft "ouch" she now got down to planning her idea for a business venture based around her grandmother's bed. The room and the house were beautiful and the bed magnificent. Just to use the room for bed and breakfast alone she would be able to charge a premium price. She could easily provide a magnificent breakfast, and cover all her costs with lots to spare. However, anyone sleeping in that bed was apparently guaranteed a good old-fashioned spanking or thrashing for one or two of their past misdeeds. Many would pay extra for the supernatural aspect alone, but for those of a particular mindset the certainty of a good hiding would be worth more on top. She spent a wriggly uncomfortable day on the kitchen chair roughing out her business plan and costs, and working out what authorities she would need to contact. What Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs would think about a spanking Bed and Breakfast establishment she couldn't imagine, but as long as she paid her taxes it didn't matter.

  However, a doubt crept in, would the bed work for just anyone? She chewed the matter over for some time before arriving at a solution: her first two customers would be free of charge just in case the whole thing failed. If she advertised among the spanking-minded community she was bound to get two volunteers, and she could make it a condition that they provide testimonials if all went well.

  Her first customer was a large man, a business type with a self-important air and a good sized belly. Sally was a wee bit nervous about having an unknown man in the house with her alone, but he arrived quite late, accepted the offer of a nightcap, and sat drinking his whisky while talking at length about himself and barely glancing at her. Sally didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted. After he had gone to bed she locked her bedroom door, and stuck a wedge under it but still couldn't sleep. However, he didn't come near her room and the house fell silent. She opened the door a little and crept out into the corridor. She could hear the sounds of snoring from his room, but was anxious about what would happen so sat on a chair in the corridor and listened to him snore.

  It was nearly half past one before anything happened. A light came from the Blue Room, and after a moment or two she heard voices followed by a sound she now easily recognised, it was that of a cane landing smartly on a bare bottom. Sally relaxed. As the cane strokes multiplied his cries and yells grew louder, but she had heard enough and went to bed sleeping soundly until the alarm woke her.

  As she prepared his breakfast she wondered what his reaction would be to his thrashing, but he came in slowly and sat gratefully on the cushions she had placed on his chair. He was a little ray of sunshine as he tucked into his large breakfast.

  "Hell's teeth that hurt, Sally, I got such a walloping I can tell you. That really took me back to my younger years and no mistake. Now I want to make a booking once a month for the next twelve months."

  "Twelve?" Sally was astonished.

  He grinned delightedly "You don't get to my age in life and position without having done some dodgy things. Oh and by the way, I am recommending you to everyone I can think of who shares my interest."

  Twelve bookings already! Sally was delighted and awaited her next freebie with great excitement.

  The woman who arrived was
tall and sour faced. She barely looked at Sally, and demanded an Ovaltine before bed. Sally didn't lock her door this time but left it ajar, reading and hoping. It was just gone one when she heard voices and hurried into the corridor, putting an ear to the door of the Blue Room. She heard her guest babbling apologies and then a sound that made her hand go to her own still slightly bruised bottom - it was a hairbrush smacking down on an unprotected rear end. Sally retreated quietly back to her room.

  The next morning Sour Face was no longer sour. She too had difficulty sitting, and was glad of the cushion. She ate a frugal breakfast, and chatted quietly with Sally, seeming more relaxed by a long way. To make Sally's day she booked four more sessions.

  As soon a she had gone, Sally 'went live' as she mentally thought of it. Placing adverts and with her two freebie's testimonials, she was confident that this business would be a success. She went to the Blue Room.

  "Grandmother, I don't know if you can hear me, but I am pleased I disobeyed your warning about the bed. Now I'll have enough money to keep the house for you, and I promise if my conscience troubles me again I'll sleep in the bed again."

  Did Sally's grandmother hear her? Did Sally sleep in the bed again? Maybe we'll all find out one day.

  School Daze

  "Reality is merely an illusion, although a very persistent one" - Albert Einstein

  The small gaggle of girls paused, the glass doors of the students' entrance before them. Together, they took a deep breath, squared their shoulders, checked for the umpteenth time that their ties were correctly in place, and then went through the doors and into the gleaming corridor beyond. Their aim – no, their need - was to get through the whole school day without getting the slipper, the cane or even a detention - a reprimand was OK but nothing else. This was not an easy task in this school with its careful rules inflexibly interpreted, and each girl knew she had to be on her very best behaviour. Five girls, heads up, shoulders back and uniform neat: Jessica, Ashley, Emily, Samantha and Sarah.

  They walked, as proper schoolgirls should, with a demure manner and carrying their bags carefully with no chattering. Everywhere there were teachers, teaching assistants and prefects watching; watching, it should be said, for the very slightest mistake, the merest whiff of naughtiness. Some of those teachers had canes held by their legs and some had slippers, large mens' slippers, old and battered by many a whacking. Did the girls really need such frightening discipline? The school believed they did and the message was clear: take one step out of line and you will be a very, very sorry young lady.

  Registration passed uneventfully for our little group. They duly answered their names, speaking up without shouting, and showed a good respectful attitude to their form teacher. There was morning assembly - every student attended with their form teacher, and sat straight-backed on a straight-backed chair, standing to sing hymns from time to time, the words displayed on screens around the room. It mattered not what the religious background of the girls might be, there was only one authorised version in that school and woe betide anyone who did not sing lustily. Assembly, too, passed uneventfully, and the girls relaxed a little as they moved demurely to their first lesson.

  They were all sat waiting for their teacher; orderly, quiet, conscious of the need not to get into any form of trouble. The teacher arrived and Jessica failed to notice immediately so did not stand as he entered the room - poor Jessica.

  "Come out here immediately, Jessica."

  Jessica went pale, and tried to apologise with a stammered, "Oh I am so sorry, Sir. I didn't see you enter the room."

  "Bend over, girl."

  With a look of resigned despair, she bent over, touching her toes in the prescribed manner, hoping it would be the large slipper on his desk and not the cane in the corner. She couldn't see but the others watched with some relief as he picked up the slipper, pulled her blazer away from her bottom, took up his stance behind the poor girl and, raising his slipper, gave her a most almighty whack. There was a nasty 'whup' sound as the slipper landed, raising a small cloud of dust motes with the force of its impact. Jessica rocked forward and made a soft 'ow' as the sting reached her brain.

  'Whup' went the sound, and the other girls flinched as they imagined that slipper smacking down on their bottoms, but they seemed unable to look away.

  Jessica's skirt was pulled tightly over her bottom and the faint line of her perfectly correct regulation knickers could be seen, an ideal target for the teacher who now brought the slipper down again, creating another 'whup' and forcing another 'ow' from Jessica. 'Whup' and again the slipper made violent contact with its target. Jessica lost balance and had to scramble quickly to get back in position in case she brought further punishment upon herself.

  "You may stand, Jessica."

  She stood, very red in the face and rubbing her bottom with one hand. No tears, but acute embarrassment and a lot of discomfort were evident in her expression.

  "Consider yourself lucky it wasn't four with the cane."

  "Yes sir, thank you, sir. I am sorry I forgot to stand, sir."

  Dismissed, she took her seat, her bottom burning with heat and stinging like mad, while her face burned with the embarrassment of having her bottom publicly spanked like that. The lesson now proceeded with efficient dullness, the other girls sneaking quick glances at Jessica to see how she was faring.

  The bell finally went to end an almost terminally boring lesson, and the students, girls every one, left in a neat orderly way when told to do so - each was trying very hard not to get into trouble. Jessica's bottom was still hot and stung quite a bit, but she was relieved that it wasn't the cane. Still, there was a long day yet to go.

  Out in the corridor as they made their way to Room 2C, Samantha tapped Jessica's shoulder to ask, sotto voce, how she was. Quite why she made such a stupid move is hard to say, but it was a big mistake.

  "You there, girl, how dare you hit another girl. Come here this instant."

  "But, Sir!" Samantha's voice was a wail. "I was only going to ask..."

  "Are you defying me, girl?"

  "No, Sir, sorry." Samantha moved smartly to stand in front of the tall, stern teacher.

  "The school rules are clear, girl. You do not touch or speak to other students in the corridor, but you did. You defied me when I told you to come to me, and you spoke without being given permission to speak. That is exceedingly poor behaviour, girl, for which I shall cane you. Bend over!"

  Tears bubbled up in Samantha's eyes and without a sound began to run down her cheeks. She knew that to argue or delay would be infinitely worse so she bent, her fingers touching her toes in the prescribed manner.

  The skirt pulled tightly over her bottom and, as with Jessica, showed a clear knicker line. It might as well have been a sign saying "Beat me here."

  Swish was the sound of the cane, but to the students watching in the corridor, the sound of the cane as it hit her bottom varied. To Sarah, it was a thwack sound, and she flinched at it and then went pale as poor Samantha let out a strangled cry of pain.

  Swish and thwack went the cane again, and Sarah watched as the lines appeared on Samantha's skirt, and the girl cried out, her whole body making a little jerk to accompany the cry. Sarah found herself flinching as the cane landed again, one hand stole unconsciously to her bottom, and began to rub it gently as if the cane had punished her. The cane swished and thwacked three more times, by which time Samantha's cries were quite pitiful though she stayed in position -not to do so was a serious offence, though no-one was quite sure what would happen.

  "Let that be a lesson to you, girl," said the stern teacher. "Now blow your nose and wipe your eyes and be quick about it, your next lesson awaits you."

  Sarah wondered throughout the next tedious lesson in mathematics, quite how poor Samantha could sit on the hard wooden chair, but sit she did and with the straight back demanded of the girls. Just because she had received six with the cane did not mean of course that she wouldn't be punished again. The girls knew that
there were many punishments that could come their way, and a girl already caned might have that awful visitation to the headmaster's office where all canings were on the bare bottom. Sarah shuddered at the very thought.

  "Now then," droned the master, "I expect you to solve these simple equations in your head, and to waste no time on them. So you there, Ann, what is the value of x in 2 (x + 5) = 16?"

  "Three, Sir."

  "Good, now you Phillipa, what's the value of x in 2x - 2 = 14?"

  "Eight, Sir."

  "Now you Sarah, 3 (x + 10) = 15. What's the value of x?"

  "Sir, it's -5."

  "Good, you realised it has a negative value."

  "Now you Ashley, in x/2 = 5 what is the value of x?"

  "Twenty, Sir."

  "No, no, no."

  Now at this point all would have been well, Ashley was in for a tongue lashing and no more. Sarah was unsure quite how she had arrived at 20, but it wasn't the right answer which was clearly 10. Ashley, however, did not seem to know the first and second rules of an obedient schoolgirl; they are, of course, only speak when required to give an answer and never argue with a teacher.

  "But, Sir, it must be twenty."

  The teacher froze, the class froze and Ashley froze with horror as she realised what she had done. She then made it worse by trying to dig herself out of her hole.

  "What I meant, Sir, was will you please explain it to me because I..."

  "Stand up, girl," he hissed. "Now, Sarah, before I deal with Ashley's impertinence, please explain what the answer should be."