London Spanking

Spanking & Caning in London with Miss Elsa Svenson

 

Archive for June, 2011

 

Story Competition please vote for your favourite story!

Thursday, June 23rd, 2011

Hello every­one

I have pub­lished 14 sto­ries to take part in the com­pe­ti­tion. If your sto­ries was not included you can resub­mit it for the next com­pe­ti­tion in Sep­tem­ber. †Now please help pick the win­ner by giv­ing points from 1 to 10 and post it as a com­ment to each story. Obvi­ously you can­not vote for your own story.

The win­ner will be announced Fri­day 1st of July so it is still some time to vote.

 

Story Competition — fourteenth entry by Andrew.…

Thursday, June 23rd, 2011

Andrew, looked down at the note again. ‘Report to Miss Sven­son’. He
wasn’t wor­ried. he had heard of Miss Sven­son, but what would this be,
another lec­ture per­haps. He smiled to him­self and thought no more of it.

Two hours later he found him­self walk­ing into an old build­ing, and up
a flight off stairs. It was an old build­ing, almost old fash­ioned, a
lit­tle cold. He had thought about ignor­ing the note (he has bet­ter
things to do), but at the last minute decided should go and ‘do the
right thing’. If not, it would just mean more notes, more reports,
more lec­tures. Very tire­some. He was, how­ever, run­ning a lit­tle late,
but what did that mat­ter, he didn’t care.
Finally he arrived at the top of the stairs, stopped for a moment,
turned and saw the big door. Well, lets see what this is about the
thought, as he knocked on the door.

He waited, it seemed at least thirty sec­onds, then he heard foot­steps
slowly get­ting louder as they came closer to the door. It sounded like
heels on wooden floor­boards. The door slowly opened.

In front of him, stood a immac­u­lately dressed woman, white shirt, dark
skirt, she looked quite formidable

In a strong but calm voice she said ‘Your Late’, she moved slightly to one
side, pointed and sim­ply added ‘in here’

Andrew walked into the office, it was very well pre­sented, a big desk,
books, some plants, he could sense a woman’s touch, though it also
seemed busi­ness like. One thing was strange how­ever, close to the
mid­dle of the room, stood a lone chair, a high backed chair, a sturdy
chair, on the mid­dle of the chair sat a wooden hairbrush.

Stand Still’ a voice beck­oned behind him, again calm, but a strong
voice. For the first time Andrew felt a lit­tle uneasy, per­haps this
was going to be a sterner lec­ture than usual. He glanced again at the
chair, this was strange, and this did not go unno­ticed by Miss Sven­son,
who sim­ply added ‘Well might you look boy’. Andrew did not quite
under­stand, but once she said this, he looked away.

Miss Sven­son, walked around him, as if cir­cling her prey. She did
not said any­thing imme­di­ately, but looked at Andrew directly in the
eyes. He could not main­tain the eye con­tact, already a vic­tory for
Miss Svenson.

Finally, she spoke:

Let me tell you why you are here, and do not speak, I will not be
interrupted’

I have been given a list of your mis­de­meanors, I don’t pro­pose to
go through them all, but I assure you, I know all about you. To
com­pound this you have the audac­ity to arrive late to this
appoint­ment, that in itself will not be tolerated’

I intend to get the bot­tom of your behav­ior and atti­tude young man,
right too the very bot­tom, I guar­an­tee you’. She said this with almost
a sat­is­fied smile.

She con­tin­ued ‘I have a no non­sense approach to pun­ish­ment, and I
intend to deal with you, right now, today’ ‘I hope you did not come
along expect­ing just a rep­ri­mand on your behav­ior, no, today you will
be pun­ished and pun­ished prop­erly and severely’

Andrew, could not quite believe what he was hear­ing, did she say
punishment?

Before he could pon­der too long, Miss Sven­son con­tin­ued ‘let me tell
you what is going to hap­pen, I know you have seen the chair and my
hairbrush’.…..she paused, a per­fectly timed pause.…..‘well, you
are going to pull down your trousers and under­pants, and I am going to
take you across my knee, and I am going to spank you bare bot­tom, I am
going to spank you with my hair­brush, and make no mis­take, I am going
to spank you very very hard, believe me when I say you will not be
sit­ting com­fort­ably for some­time after I have fin­ished with you’

Andrew felt a cer­tain dis­be­lief in what he was hear­ing, did she say
spank­ing, and even worse, did she say bare bot­tom? He started to
tense, his mouth was becom­ing very dry. No this could not be right,
but the only word he could actu­ally muster was ‘bare?’

In a strict but calm strict voice, Miss Sven­son glared ‘quite bare,
oth­er­wise it com­pletely defeats the pur­pose’ and added alarm­ingly for
Andrew ‘and I haven’t got all day to waste on you, time to get on with
it’

Andrew felt this could not be hap­pen­ing, was this real, it felt
sur­real. How­ever, the real­ity came all too quickly.

She pulled Andrew by the ear over to the chair. ‘Pull down your
trousers and underpants’

Andrew stood rigid, and at the same time, he noticed Miss Sven­son
slowly rolling up her right sleeve, very pre­cisely and slowly
reveal­ing, a strong arm.

Miss Sven­son picked up the hair­brush and slowly sat down on the
chair, mak­ing her self com­fort­able. She looked at Andrew ‘I will not
tell you again’ She started to pat her hand with the hair­brush, it
made quiet a thwack.

Andrew was now mor­ti­fied, but this was a strong and for­mi­da­ble woman
who clearly meant what she said, she was in total con­trol of the
sit­u­a­tion, and Andrew sud­denly felt com­pelled to do exactly as he had
just been told, and, though a lit­tle hes­i­tantly slowly
undid his belt and started to lower his trousers fol­lowed to his
com­plete embar­rass­ment by his under­pants to stand there effec­tively naked
from the waist down in front of Miss Svenson.

Andrew stood and watched, as Miss Sven­son lifted her skirt just
slightly to reveal her legs, she did not want her per­fectly ironed
skirt creased with what was about to hap­pen. The next word were
inevitable, but chill­ing in there mean­ing, in a very harsh tone ‘GET
OVER MY KNEE’. Miss Sven­son would allow no hes­i­ta­tion and a strong
arm pulled Andrew across her knee. A hand pushed Andrew’s head to the
floor, Miss Sven­son posi­tioned the bare bot­tom in front of her to her
sat­is­fac­tion. A hair­brush was the per­fect imple­ment for over the knee
pun­ish­ments and Miss Sven­son intended to use it to its full extent,
this young man did not know what he was in for, noth­ing short of a
full force spank­ing, a thor­ough good hid­ing, a thrash­ing, a tan­ning,
there were a num­ber of words to describe it, but Miss Sven­son knew
this was going to some­thing that would not be for­got­ten in a hurry.

One hand held Andrew in posi­tion, in the other Miss Sven­son lightly
tapped the help­less bare bot­tom in front of her with the fierce imple­ment of cor­rec­tion. Then, it hap­pened,
the hand was raised and Miss Sven­son bought the hair­brush crash­ing
down on to Andrew’s bare bot­tom as hard as pos­si­ble, then another, and† another, alter­nat­ing from one cheek to another. The pain was much much
harder than Andrew could ever have imag­ined, much harder, he tried to
stay stoic, but it did not take long before he started to make slight
yelps as the hair­brush landed one stroke after another, inces­santly,
he could not believe the strength of Miss Sven­son, who seemed to know
exactly how too pun­ish. Andrew eyes started to water, but there was no
let up, Miss Sven­son con­tin­ued to shower spank after spank and† Andrews bot­tom was turn­ing form pink to red, to bright red, to† crim­son. Miss Sven­son was indeed and expert and indeed severe. This† was the spank­ing of a life­time. Miss Sven­son stopped, but it was only
a pause, ‘I have only just started’ were the words Andrew did not want
to hear, but heard all the same.

It may only have been a few min­utes, 3,4 maybe 5 min­utes of actual spank­ing,
but the spank­ing was hard from the first spank too the last, and was
as painful as any­thing Andrew had ever known. His bot­tom was pur­ple
and very very sore. The pun­ish­ment was real, severe and very painful.

Finally, Andrew was allowed to stand and com­pose him­self, but only
after Miss Sven­son had inspected his bot­tom and decided his
pun­ish­ment was ‘sat­is­fac­tory’ It was over.

He pulled up his under­pants and trousers and found him­self rub­bing his
bot­tom, he had been thor­oughly pun­ished and felt sorry for himself.

As he left thor­oughly chas­tised Miss Sven­son reminded Andrew this was
the min­i­mum he could expect if he ever had too attend again, and under
no cir­cum­stances was he too be late.

It was later that evening, still sore and sorry, Andrew put his hand
in his pocket, found and pulled out the note…‘report to Miss
Svenson’.…..with a wry look he knew it was not a lec­ture you
received when you reported too Miss Sven­son, it was not a note he
wanted to get too often, but some­thing told him he would prob­a­bly be
back again sometime.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Story Competition — thirteenth entry by Lordy.…

Wednesday, June 22nd, 2011
There is that timid knock on her study door. Just a cou­ple of sec­onds to con­sider your fate.
Time stands still just†like a life­time as you squirm on hear­ing the words..
“Wait right there… I shall deal with you shortly”.……
Oh boy will she deal with you echos in your ear.
There is a twitch†of nerves as your bot­tom groans with the knowl­edge of the heat to come!
Her voice†makes me trem­ble as I finally hear the dreaded word “Enter”
Bees wax pol­ish fills the air from the old wooden floor­boards as I open†the the door marked Headmistress!.….
I hear the swish­ing of a slender†cane flow­ing thru the air.
I shud­der with antic­i­pa­tion as I fol­low the click­ing of her black stilet­tos wide eye,
as she places the cane next to her solid oak straight back antique chair.
There is a waft of Chan­nel No5 drift­ing my way. 
The whole scene was just like a dream†from yesteryear’s.
Just how do I describe such an iconic lady as Miss Elsa Svenson?
Strict, car­ing and demure are just some of the words that come to mind.
Miss Elsa Sven­son is that for­mi­da­ble Head­mistress, stern,
mature and most com­mand­ing with curves that are intox­i­cat­ing to say the very least.
Her regale attire dressed in crisp starch white blouses, gown, seam stock­ings, flash of thigh and black tight short­ish skirt 
rid­ing high to show off her firm ample lap, much  famed for dish­ing out dis­ci­pline in that time hon­oured tradition.
Yes a thor­oughly long hard over the knee bare bot­tom spank­ing, slip­per­ing, strap­ping and canning
all admin­is­tered with such care, vigour and zest as the mis­cre­ant is most soundly dealt with across this schoolmarms†accommodating lap.…
Many a sting­ing hot bot­tom can tes­tify to having†been given a lesson†never to be†forgotten by Miss Svenson ,
a true believer in the guid­ance of strict discipline.
My thoughts turn to the telling off and the dreaded out­come from the irate head­mistress with the likes of …
” What you need young man is a damn good spank­ing”… I’m going to give you†the hid­ing of your life”.…. 
“Just wait till I take you over my knee”… “Let’s see how long†a bare bot­tom slip­per­ing will take to mend your ways”…
“I keep a cane just for deal­ing with such mis­de­meanours”… “Its about time I gave you the strap­ping of your life!”.….”
You are really going to get it this time” Hmmmm just the tip of the ice­berg as there are so many lines that bring me to atten­tion I’m thinking!!
The reader by now must be think­ing of the story behind all this and await­ing the out­come of being sent to Miss Elsa Svenson?
Alas!!..as I write this I’m look­ing for­ward to post­ing the true account of†being dealt with
as the story com­pe­ti­tion win­ner of a truly won­der­ful spank­ing ses­sion with Miss Elsa Svenson.
“You can’t write that” said Lisa Thayer, my web mis­tress cyber head­mistress from LA.…
Actress, poet, singer/songwriter, artist, pho­tog­ra­pher, web designer.
Just to name a few of the strings on her bow! 
Hmm­mmm I thought†maybe she should write my story instead…I so want that spank­ing prize!!!!

Story Competition — twelfth entry by Peter.…

Tuesday, June 21st, 2011

Peter Grainger was feel­ing rather pleased with him­self. He had just spent the bet­ter part of 2 hours in the new slot machine arcade in the High Street — and had won over £15! Now, he would have the plea­sure of decid­ing how to spend it. Peter’s day was turn­ing out much bet­ter than another, ordi­nary, mun­dane day at Hymers school for boys.

Peter reminded him­self how he had come to be play­ing on the slot machines today — he’d decided to play tru­ant for the day when he remem­bered that he’d mixed up the day for hand­ing in his Eng­lish home­work. It should have been com­pleted and ready to hand in at 2pm when his class timetable read ‘dou­ble Eng­lish’. He hadn’t even started it — and there was no way Peter wanted to be in trou­ble for not doing his home­work again. It was the third time this term — and Peter remem­bered what hap­pened at that par­tic­u­lar land­mark last term.

Peter had been sent to the new Head­mistress, Miss Sven­son, who had taken a dim view of Peter’s excuses for not doing his home­work. She heard that Peter had been slip­pered already that term and decided a more severe pun­ish­ment was required on this occa­sion. Miss Sven­son was not in the mood for non­sense from lazy school­boys that after­noon and decided that Peter needed some ‘encour­age­ment’ to improve his behav­iour. Peter got a strap­ping from Miss Sven­son that day — 6 strokes — and he did not want a repeat of that punishment.

In fact, Peter was wor­ried that he might be even more severely pun­ished sec­ond time around. He was told that he had actu­ally got off quite lightly — Miss Sven­son usu­ally gave 10 strokes when a boy was sent to her for a strap­ping — and some­times it was also given on the bare. Peter decided not to risk it, he might just as well bunk off for the day — say he was sick — and hand his home­work in on time tomorrow.

So, Peter was now feel­ing par­tic­u­larly pleased with him­self. He had avoided being reported to Miss Sven­son, and he now had an extra £15 in his pocket. Today was turn­ing into a good day.….

Grainger — what are you doing here?’ Peter spun round, shocked by the sound of Miss Carter’s voice. Miss Carter was his his­tory teacher at school and had just left her dentist’s surgery — which hap­pened to be directly across the road from the amuse­ment arcade where Peter had spent most of the morn­ing. Peter stam­mered some incom­pre­hen­si­ble excuse about not being well and didn’t even get to fin­ish his sen­tence before Miss Carter assertively told him to get him­self back to school ‘at once, Grainger’. Peter felt him­self unable to argue any more — and headed back in the direc­tion of school whist Miss Carter kept him in her stern gaze. Peter just hoped that he wouldn’t be reported by Miss Carter. His plan to avoid a strap­ping for not hav­ing his home­work ready was now in tat­ters though. Eng­lish was at 2pm and there was no way to avoid that les­son now.

Peter arrived at Hymers school just as the morn­ing classes were fin­ish­ing — and the boys were fil­ing into the din­ing hall — there was still a full hour before he was due to hand in his Eng­lish home­work, so still a chance to avoid being reported to Miss Sven­son. Peterís mind raced. Peter came up with an idea, he had £15 in his pocket from his morn­ingís gam­bling — maybe he could ëper­suadeí one of his class­mates to lend him their home­work. He could try an offer of £10 and would still be ahead on the day. Of course, none of the other boys would risk a visit to Miss Sven­son, so it could only be one of the boys who had not missed a home­work dead­line dur­ing that term. They would still be risk­ing a slip­per­ing, but Peter could think of a cou­ple of his class­mates who may be tempted by some ready cash! Peter decided to ask Paul Maguire to swap his Eng­lish home­work for the £10 on offer. Paul had a rep­u­ta­tion as one of the naugh­tier boys and was no stranger to the slip­per or Miss Sven­son for that mat­ter. He had, how­ever, kept out of trou­ble so far that term and would not be in dan­ger of being sent for a strap­ping. Paul also liked money. Peter made him an offer.

At 2pm Peter and the rest of his class headed towards their dou­ble Eng­lish class. Peterís plan had back­fired — Paul and another boy turned him down flat when he pro­posed ëbor­row­ingí their home­work. Other boys had got wind of the scheme too. Peter had to con­fess that he had not done his Eng­lish home­work along with one other boy in his class. Peterís class­mate was called out to the front of the class and told to bend over, before get­ting 6 whacks from the Eng­lish teach­ers slip­per across his back­side. Peter was told that his fail­ure would be reported to Miss Sven­son. Peter knew what that meant. It was Tuesday

Miss Elsa Sven­son was not pleased,. She had attended a Head­teach­ers con­fer­ence in Brighton and would now have to stay an extra two nights in the town due to a rail strike. She liked Brighton but needed to get back to the school to attend to impor­tant busi­ness.
Miss Sven­son finally got home and in to work on Fri­day. She had impor­tant mat­ters to deal with and was not pleased at the list of adverse reports regard­ing cer­tain boys which were made to her. A total of 15 boys had been reported to her for var­i­ous mis­de­meanours and each of them deserved to be strapped. A fur­ther 7 boys were reported for rather more seri­ous offences — and they would, most likely, be caned. One boyís behav­iour was trou­bling her most of all.

Peter Grainger, along with four of his class­mates, was not enjoy­ing this morn­ingís maths les­son. They all knew that Miss Sven­son had returned to the school. They had all been reported for one mis­de­meanour or another dur­ing the week and they all feared that a strap­ping or even a can­ing awaited them when the were sum­moned to her study. Two of the boys did not have long to wait. A mes­sen­ger inter­rupted the les­son and read out the names of those who were to report imme­di­ately to Miss Sven­sonís office. The two boys returned to class about 20 min­utes later feel­ing extremely sorry for them­selves. They were amongst the group of boys who were strapped — they both got her max­i­mum of 10 strokes and Miss Sven­son had laid the strokes on hard today. They would not sit com­fort­ably for some time.
Peter was sur­prised that his name was not read out at the same time as the two boys who had just returned. He knew he had been reported and was ready to join them if his name was called. He would have to wait, how­ever. The two other boys who were ëfor ití had been reported for much more seri­ous offences than for­get­ting home­work. One boyís bul­ly­ing ways had caught up with him and another had been caught cheat­ing in a test the day before. Both of them were expect­ing to get the cane. Peter was now wor­ried that he, too, may be one of the recip­i­ents of a can­ing. He had not had the cane before, but by all accounts it was much worse than the strap and that had been awful enough last term.

> Once again, lessons were inter­rupted and the two boys who were fear­ing the cane were sum­moned to see Miss Sven­son. Both returned to class after some 20 min­utes. Both were in a some­what dishev­elled state and found it painful to walk back to class. Sit­ting still for the remain­der of the day would be a real chal­lenge. Peter was relieved that his name was not amongst that par­tic­u­lar group of boys.
>
> It was an hour later when a dif­fer­ent mes­sen­ger inter­rupted lessons again and said that Grainger was required to report to Miss Sven­son in her study. The walk along the cor­ri­dors, across the school quad­ran­gle and through the assem­bly hall to Miss Sven­sonís study was not pleas­ant. Peter was now fear­ing the worst. He had, rather hope­fully, thought that he may not have been reported after all. He was not amongst the group of boys who had been strapped although he had fully expected to be. Nor had he been one of the boys who had been caned. Peter began to realise that he was going to be receiv­ing some indi­vid­ual atten­tion from Miss Sven­son.
Elsa Sven­son was appalled by the three sep­a­rate reports which had been made to her regard­ing Peter Graingerís behav­iour. The boy had come to her atten­tion on sev­eral occa­sions in the past — and had been one of those boys who usu­ally man­aged to avoid the most seri­ous con­se­quences. Peter had just the one entry in Miss Sven­sonís pun­ish­ment book, a strap­ping last term when he had got off rel­a­tively lightly. Six strokes with the stan­dard strap had been applied to Peterís bot­tom on that occa­sion — firm strokes but not laid on espe­cially hard. Today, how­ever, would be dif­fer­ent.
Miss Sven­son had reminded her­self of the updated Gov­er­norís rules regard­ing cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment at Hymers. These were revised from time to time and the most recent ver­sion allowed her the use of a new ësenior plusí cane which replaced the birch as the pun­ish­ment instru­ment of last resort for very seri­ous offences which may oth­er­wise deserve expul­sion from the school. Eng­lish was not Elsa Sven­sonís first lan­guage, though she spoke flu­ently and prided her­self on her immac­u­late knowl­edge of Eng­lish gram­mar and meaning.

The gov­er­nors rules allowed the Head­mistress to admin­is­ter up to 10 strokes with the strap — either the stan­dard one or the extra heavy ver­sion which Miss Sven­son usu­ally favoured. This could be admin­is­tered on the mis­cre­an­tís bare bot­tom if it was con­sid­ered appro­pri­ate. It was explained to Miss Sven­son when she raised the point that if she felt that a boy deserved more than 10 strokes — then he should be caned. Miss Sven­son read on Ö. ëand, up to 12 strokes of the junior, stan­dard or senior cane may be admin­is­tered with up to 6 of those strokes given on the bare bot­tom and, for par­tic­u­larly seri­ous breaches of dis­ci­pline, up to 12 strokes of the senior plus cane may be admin­is­tered. If a boy is deserv­ing of so seri­ous a pun­ish­ment then all strokes of the senior plus cane should be admin­is­tered on the bare bottom.í

Elsa Sven­son was deter­mined that Peter would be prop­erly dealt with for each offence. The lit­eral inter­pre­ta­tion of the Gov­er­nors rules allowed her to admin­is­ter a strap­ping AND a can­ing AND 12 strokes with the new senior plus cane. The rules clearly stated AND between the var­i­ous dis­ci­pli­nary sanc­tions — if they had meant ëorí then they would have said that! Would­nít they?! With that, there was a knock on her study door.

Peter Grainger looked very for­lorn. He had just been on the receiv­ing end of a seri­ous scold­ing for his behav­iour from Miss Sven­son. She told him how he had let him­self down, had attempted to impli­cate his class­mates in a scheme to pass off another boyís home­work as his own and had brought the school into some dis­re­pute by being in a gam­bling estab­lish­ment when he should have been in school. Peter had already heard that Miss Sven­son had used the heavy strap across the bot­toms of sev­eral boys ear­lier in the day. He could not help but notice the fear­some look­ing strap which was hang­ing by the side of her desk. Peter was not look­ing for­ward to his fate — but he knew that the strap would be prefer­able to the cane — and he could see two canes lying on Miss Sven­sonís desk. One looked fairly famil­iar, he had been threat­ened with the cane on an ear­lier visit to Miss Sven­son if he were sent to her again, and Peter rightly assumed that that par­tic­u­lar cane had stung sev­eral naughty boys bot­toms already that day. The sec­ond cane was dif­fer­ent. It was darker in colour, slightly longer and looked par­tic­u­larly fear­some. Miss Sven­son had used it once before on that day — admin­is­ter­ing the max­i­mum of 12 strokes to the boy whose bul­ly­ing of junior boys needed to be severely dealt with. Miss Sven­son had been both delighted and sur­prised at how much more severe that cane was than even her senior cane. She was also pleased at her hand­i­work — leav­ing clearly defined stripes across the bul­lyís bare bot­tom. Miss Sven­son was look­ing for­ward to per­fect­ing her tech­nique with this new cane.

Miss Sven­son informed Peter that he would be pun­ished sep­a­rately for each of his reported breaches of dis­ci­pline and that she would deal first with his fail­ure to com­plete his Eng­lish home­work. ëTrousers and pants down Grainger — and bend over the deskí. Peter was on the verge of tears already, with­out a sin­gle stroke being applied to his bot­tom — he had­nít really expected to be pun­ished on his bare bot­tom — but he was relieved, at least to see Miss Sven­son select the strap from her range of dis­ci­pli­nary instru­ments. At least it was the strap and not the cane ëTen strokes Peter, and you will count the strokes aloudí. ëYes, Miss Sven­soní, said Peter in a waver­ing voice. Miss Sven­son laid on each of the 10 strokes as hard as she had any that day. She intended that Peter would expe­ri­ence as severe a strap­ping as she admin­is­tered to the naugh­ti­est boys in the school and did not expect him to take the 10 strokes in silence. She was not disappointed.

Stand up Peter. Now you can stand in that cor­ner of my study, with your hands on your head, and con­tem­plate exactly why you have been strapped. I will then deal with your tru­ancy.í Peter spent some five min­utes in the cor­ner, his arms ached from hav­ing them over his head — but that was just about the least of his wor­ries. Peter heard Miss Sven­son select a cane and swish it through the air a few times. The sound of it was quite ter­ri­fy­ing and Peter finally realised that he was going to be both strapped and caned. He was then ordered back over the desk, again trousers and pants down, and told that the pun­ish­ment for play­ing tru­ant was always 6 of the best with the cane. Boys who vis­ited pub­lic houses or gam­bling estab­lish­ments and brought the school into dis­re­pute were caned on the bare — even for a first can­ing. Peter was required to count each of the 6 sting­ing, sear­ing strokes before again being con­fined to the cor­ner of Miss Sven­sonís study — hands on head — to fur­ther con­tem­plate his var­i­ous misdemeanours.

Miss Sven­son left Peter in that state for some 10 min­utes, whilst she attended to some paper­work and filled out the var­i­ous entries in the pun­ish­ment book. The final entry read, Grainger, attempted decep­tion and cheat­ing, 12 strokes, Senior Plus cane, bare.

Peter assumed the posi­tion for the third time that day, his bot­tom which was already sore and marked was about to expe­ri­ence the most severe can­ing which Miss Sven­son was per­mit­ted to admin­is­ter. The 12 strokes were applied expertly and with­out com­pro­mise. Miss Sven­son was pleased at the accu­racy which could be achieved with her new cane. The 12 strokes were all applied par­al­lel across Peterís bot­tom with the final 6 laid on espe­cially hard.

This was a day which nei­ther Elsa Sven­son nor Peter Grainger would for­get in a hurry.

 

Story Competition — eleventh entry by Ken P.…

Monday, June 20th, 2011

Ken was out in his run­ning gear

He had watched Miss Sven­son (the New Head) unload her car and have the men carry her stuff into her Study.He pulled his mobile out and called Bill who had left last Term

Hi Bill. Ken here

I have just seen her-She’s quite small, great fig­ure (big­gish boobs and one of those curvy bums)

 

Ken lights a cig­a­rette and leans against the wall

Old Bug­ger Baines left at the end of Term– I think his array of canes, slip­pers and stuff went too

Old sexy draw­ers Sven­son won’t use them I hope!!

LOL

She will prob­a­bly be namby pamby lib­eral type, she comes from Scandinavia!!

 

(What Ken had not realised was that unlike Harry (bug­ger) Baines, Elsa Sven­son the new Head­mistress enjoyed fresh air.  She had opened the bal­cony win­dow and was stand­ing a few feet above Ken’s quiet cor­ner. She had indeed dis­cov­ered the Baines spank­ing equip­ment and rel­ished the fact that Scan­di­na­vian val­ues could be imposed with such imple­ments against those deserv­ing young bottoms.

 

(Elsa was “old school” and used pad­dles, slip­pers, straps and canes to dis­ci­pline her flock back home– she remem­bered only too well the humil­i­a­tion of her own spankings)

 

This brat on his phone made her so cross-he was big­oted, arro­gant and aggres­sive.† He smoked and he obvi­ously had lit­tle respect for Females

 

She lis­tened on as Ken bragged about how unruly he would be, how heíd sev­eral con­quests over the hol­i­days and how he expected more in the school staff quar­ters this com­ing term

 

Yes” he said on his mobile “I’ll get in and take some pic­tures of her knick­ers drawer for you . I’ll check out he bra size too LOL

 

He stubbed out his cig­a­rette and hid the stub in the flowerbed

 

She must be out now as most pupils come back in an hour-as you know I was early as I had demer­its from last year and had to open up

I’ll go now and get the evi­dence!! LOL

 

With that Ken went in and up the back stairway

he went into room 18-the Head’s study and to the dress­ing room

the chest of draw­ers had two small top draw­ers and he pulled them open.. Chortling to him­self he laid 2 pairs of knick­ers on the top of the chest, just stand­ing back to take a pic­ture he heard a creak of the wooden floor, he looked round and saw Miss Svenson

He was amazed as he thought she was out

Hello

She spoke quietly

And who have we here?

.…..

Umm†Hello Miss

I am Ken Pretto

I errî

 

Yes Pretto?† You were what?

Well I ummm..

Let’s come away from my per­sonal draw­ers shall we?† Put my under­gar­ments away-as you found them

 

Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she returned to the “work­ing” part of Her New study.

Miss Sven­son sat in the chair behind her desk

 

You are used to attend­ing this room I think Pretto?† You will help me under­stand some features

Yes Miss

Miss Svenson’s†smile broad­ened as she detected a flicker of fear

Open the cup­board please Pretto

 

Ken knew what was there before, but thought it would be gone. He opened the cup­board and iden­ti­fied the plim­soll, the leather soled slip­per, the tawse and straps and the 6 canes lean­ing against the back wall-nothing had gone.

 

I heard you on the phone you silly boy

I am a stricter dis­ci­pli­nar­ian that any man you may have met before.

I know how Mr Baines used to deal with you, in the shower first and then over the towel rail

She laughed

Well, I won’t be doing that Empty your pockets

 

Ken took out his phone and some change and his handkerchief

 

The cig­a­rettes and lighter too pleaseî Barked Elsa

 

Put the chair in the mid­dle of the room, bend over the back and grip the seat both sides

 

Elsa took the plimsoll

 

12 with this for using foul words to your friend on the phone

The slip­per struck hard with a rapid deliv­ery of†6 hard strokes to each alter­nate cheek

Ken’s jog­ging pants offered lit­tle pro­tec­tion and the burn­ing sen­sa­tion engulfed him in no time

Elsa enjoyed the feel­ing of power over this “tough” sixth former

She walked round and faced him

 

Mr Baines as good as that?

 

That was harder than he ever spanked Miss

 

Good

 

Smok­ing

20 on the bare backside

Elsa pulled his jog­gers down to expose bare but­tocks, already reddened.

 

WALLOP

She laid the plim­soll on harder and paused after each 5

 

Stand in the cor­ner and won­der what I will do next — your ref­er­ence to me in a smutty way to your†friend†upset me.† I also am astounded at your audac­ity in touch­ing my clothes.† Put your hands on head and face the wall.

 

Ken was in that mixed emo­tion state that was so embar­rass­ing.† He had no pro­tec­tion on his bot­tom which was smart­ing with the slip­per spanking

As he stood fac­ing the cor­ner he heard the cup­board door hinge squeak and the sound of items being moved around.† He still pic­tured the attrac­tive lady and felt some stimulation

 

swishî the sound of a cane being swept through the air

ìHmm­m­mmî Miss Sven­son could be heard approv­ingly murmuring

 

The door buzzer went

Hello Yes Siri-Anne, do come up. You may enjoy this

 

Swish, swish another cane was rested against the wall

 

Stay still Pretto

Miss Sven­son opened the door and called In here Siri

 

What on Earth?!!î A strangerís voice rang out.

 

This is one of my pupils Siri Anne.You remem­ber my meth­ods at the school in Oslo?  You must do, that pert bot­tom of yours felt the birch more than once?  Any­way, heís been very silly and I am about to cane him

Pretto. Lay across the arms of those 2 sofas.Bottom high in the air

 

Ken shuf­fled across and lay over a towel placed for him to rest on.

 

Good Miss Sven­son took one of the canes. For touch­ing my under­gar­ments.† 12 stokes this side, then face the other way for 12 more

 

But Miss We only get 6

 

Elsa laughs

 

Really?!!

 

12 hard strokes are soon ring­ing down

After 8 Elsa stops and runs her hand over his sore bottom

 

Look Siri Anne how his white cheeks are all stripey. The red blotches were from this  WALLOP  the slip­per thwacks down across his sore bottom

 

And the stripes swish, swish, swish, swishî 4 more hard cane strokes on the same spot , each time the tip of the cane catch­ing his right cheek dead cen­tre as it fol­lows the hard impact of the cane.

 

Wow Siri Anne sounds breath­less they do have an effect

 

Ken you must face the other way.† As you know I cane left handed so we need spread

 

The ladies walk away to com­pare their shoes, both expen­sive high heels from Designer Shops while Ken moves gin­gerly round. He lays the other way and waits.

 

Elsa shows Siri Anne the dif­fer­ence between the canes. One slightly wider and less springy

 

Let’s see if the effect is the same

 

Miss Sven­son holds the cane across young Pret­toís bot­tom.† ì12 more this side but Ken, I want your bot­tom higher and more pro­nounced please.† Stick it higherî

 

The next 10 min­utes are ago­nis­ing for poor Ken.† Elsa lays each stroke care­fully and slowly.† She mea­sures her swing and ensures the delay between each stroke dif­fers so as to keep the boy guessing.

 

In some moments she chats to her friend and then applies a series or sin­gle strokes.† At last all 12 strokes have been applied.

 

Go and wash your tears young manî Ken goes to the bath­room and washes his face to remove the tears. He looks in the mir­ror at his flam­ing bottom.

 

On re enter­ing the room his jog­gers back in place he finds the Ladies hold­ing a small leather strap and a hair­brush respec­tively. They are laugh­ing and sniggering.

Oh Pret­toî They turn and face him.

 

Next time we are both going to deal with you.† Siri Anne is your new matron and will be help­ing keep you in line.

 

They laugh and Ken is dismissed.

 

He is going to try to behave this Term.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Story Competition — tenth entry by John.…

Sunday, June 19th, 2011

Walsh entered Ms Svenson’s office and handed her the pun­ish­ment note. She read it and said:

Well Walsh. I see that once again you†continue to dis­rupt the classes and cause† trou­ble to the teach­ers. I con­sider myself to be a fair head­mistress, so before I cane you I will give you the oppor­tu­nity to explain yourself.”

 

What is the rea­son for this dis­grace­ful behaviour?”

 

Oh that’s easy!” answered Walsh. “I think the teach­ers in this school are incom­pe­tent!” He laughed loudly.

 

Incom­pe­tent?” exclaimed Ms Sven­son in amazement.

 

Yes!” answered Walsh. He laughed again and added: “Includ­ing you, Ms Sven­son! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

 

Hmm”, sighed the Head­mistress as she selected her strongest cane. “We shall see how com­pe­tent I am at pun­ish­ing you then. Bend over that chair!”

 

Walsh laughed again and bent over. He was sur­prised when she pulled down his trousers and underpants†leaving his bare but­tocks exposed. Then again what did he have to fear? She was after all only a woman and a mem­ber of the weaker sex, wasn’t she?

 

How wrong he was. The Head­mistress drew back the cane and brought it down on†his bare but­tocks with all her might.

 

Aaaargh!” shouted Walsh in agony, as he rose with the shock.

 

Get back down!” shouted the Head­mistress or you’ll get extra strokes!”

 

Wash grit­ted his teeth and grabbed the legs of the chair for the remaining†eleven excru­ti­at­ingly painful strokes. He was not laugh­ing now.

 

Mer­ci­fully the Head­mistress finally laid down the cane. Walsh was whim­per­ing pathet­i­cally as he pulled up his trousers.

 

Well Walsh! Let this be a les­son to you. I will not tol­er­ate inso­lence in my study or dis­rup­tive behav­iour in my class­rooms. I want you to go back now and apol­o­gise to the teach­ers you offended! If I see you here again, it will be 24 strokes”

 

Yes Ma’am,” he sim­pered. “Thank you Ma’am”.

 

He meekly shuf­fled out of the study with his back­side on fire with the pain.

 

 

 

 

Story Competition — ninth entry by James W.…

Saturday, June 18th, 2011

Miss Sven­son sat at her kitchen table, idly stir­ring her cof­fee. She glanced at the clock but it was still not yet 10 past 9. 5 past 9, just before her rather dull but oh so Eng­lish neigh­bours in the house to the left would have gone for the day, the wife to do what­ever it was mid­dle aged women did all day whilst their hus­bands worked, some­thing wor­thy with a char­ity no doubt. And the hus­band, well off to the job that kept them in their lifestyle of 2 sons at uni­ver­sity and 3 for­eign hol­i­days a year.
10 past 9, mark­ing the time Miss Sven­son could go for her morn­ing stroll around the gar­den. Nude of course, so com­mon­place in her native Swe­den, but rather too lib­eral for the prim and proper next door neigh­bours she feared.

The sound of an engine start­ing and then slowly dis­ap­pear­ing lifted her mood and with her other neigh­bours in the south of France for sev­eral months, she started undo­ing her dress­ing gown and let it slip off her body onto the floor. She took a mouth­ful of cof­fee and, pick­ing up the seca­teurs lest she find any plants in need of tend­ing, opened the back door and walked into the early morn­ing sunshine.

The cool air on her body made her think wist­fully of her home­land and the free­dom one was granted there and she began to idly won­der from bush to bush, tak­ing in the fra­grance of her gar­den. A move­ment in the cor­ner of her eye dis­tracted her, just a brief flut­ter and then noth­ing. She lin­gered over a Rhodo­den­dron that seemed to be on the wane and there again, a move­ment of mate­r­ial, from her prim and proper next door neigh­boursí win­dow. She looked intently at the win­dows, but could not dis­tin­guish any­thing in par­tic­u­lar when there, again, a slight tug on the cur­tain. A peep­ing tom next door! But how, when she had heard their depar­ture? Then it struck her, Mrs Prim and Proper had gushed with pride about how one of their sons was soon to be back from uni­ver­sity for the hol­i­days. The lit­tle swine, he had caught her at her leisure and rather than decently avert­ing his eye after the first no doubt acci­den­tal glimpse, had sought a sec­ond and third view of her naked­ness. She strode indoors, pulled the dress­ing gown around her and, stop­ping only to put her slip­pers on and put her house keys in her gown pocket, walked out of the house and strode next door.

She rang two, three, four times on the door­bell before it opened slowly and a young man in his twen­ties stood before her, clad in shorts with the rem­nants of an erec­tion dimin­ish­ing, pressed against the material.

Erm hi” he splut­tered “Mum and Dad are out at the moment, i can take a message”.

You most cer­tainly can” said Miss Sven­son sternly, “You can leave the mes­sage that I am most unhappy their son is a peep­ing tom and i want to know what pun­ish­ment they will be giv­ing you.”

The colour drained from his face as he realised his cur­tain twitch­ing had been seen.

Wait, erm, no” he bum­bled “That’s really not nec­es­sary, i’m really sorry, it wonít hap­pen again”.

You can be sure of that; I shall ask your mother if she knows her son is a per­vert, whether her friends at the local Wom­enís Insti­tute know.”

No, please, you can’t, i’m really very sorry, how can i make it up to you” he pleaded.

Miss Svenson’s tone soft­ened and her mind wan­dered to the con­tents of the third drawer in her bed­room side dresser. “Well” she said slowly, “If you were pun­ished to my sat­is­fac­tion then per­haps there would be no need to involve your par­ents at all.”

Yes, yes, that is fine” he blurted in relief.

Very well”, Miss Sven­son barked, “Come with me at once”.

The young man fol­lowed her with some trep­i­da­tion, won­der­ing what sort of menial task or house­work he would have to do.

Once inside her house, Miss Sven­son closed the front door and turned on the mis­cre­ant. “Such an affront to my dig­nity deserves a suit­able pun­ish­ment, one you will not read­ily for­get by this after­noon like mere yard work. I shall be treat­ing you as if you were my own son caught in such an act…”

A puz­zled look crossed the student’s face and the look turned to one of shock as she con­tin­ued “…tell me, have you ever been spanked”

Spanked?” he said in a daze

Yes boy, spanked, pad­dled, caned, tawsed, slip­pered… has your mother ever had occa­sion to pun­ish you properly?”

My, er, my mother doesn’t believe in it.”

Well my boy, i do and i will nei­ther spare the rod, nor spoil you to teach you a les­son”. She grasped his ear and twist­ing, led him upstairs to her boudoir. “I am going to pun­ish you and next time you approach a cur­tain with the promise of a naughty view, i can promise you your back­side will start to sting instinctively.

She cajoled him into a cor­ner of the room, fac­ing a full length mir­ror. After pulling his shorts down and away from his feet, she spread his feet wide and made him grip his ankles such that his gaze would be on the car­pet between his legs. She exam­ined his unmarked, taut bot­tom and reflected on the fun she was about to have.

I will be pun­ish­ing you with a vari­ety of instru­ments” she said in a stern voice “and after i have shown you the instru­ments, we shall begin. I expect no backchat from you, any lip or wrig­gling or pulling away and we shall be talk­ing to your mother when she returns.”

Ok” he said.

and from now on, you will address me only as Miss Sven­son, when answer­ing me you will start Miss Sven­son and then say what you have to say, is that clear And in this house we say yes or yes Miss Sven­son, not vul­gar­ity like ìOKî, is that understood?

Yes, I mean Miss Sven­son, yes”.

Good” and smil­ing to her­self she went over to the dresser and, pulling open a drawer, began to select the instru­ments she would use this morn­ing. A favourite rub­ber soled slip­per, a tawse, a light pad­dle, a par­tic­u­larly flex­i­ble and whippy cane and an old wooden ruler. Ahh, and a present she had received from a friend back home that very week, a lovely birch.

She walked over to the boy and slowly, placed the instru­ments one by one between his feet. An invol­un­tary flinch was noticed on a cou­ple of items and Miss Sven­son felt the sever­ity of the crime and the pun­ish­ment was start­ing to be brought home to him.

She pulled up a chair and placed it in the mid­dle of the room. “Come here” she said “and lay over my lap”. “I will not be jump­ing straight to the instru­ments that will give you most cause for reflec­tion, I must pre­pare you for that first”.

Gin­gerly he laid him­self over her lap, still some­what aroused she noticed. “well, she thought to her­self “We’ll see about that”.

Arrang­ing him on her lap, she pulled one of his arms up behind his back to lessen any wrig­gling and addressed the quiv­er­ing but­tocks. “Some­times I will expect you to count the blows, if you do this incor­rectly, then I will start again and again until you get it cor­rect. Am i clear?”

Yes Miss Sven­son” he said meekly.

She started off at a fast pace, pep­per­ing both but­tocks with well judged thwacks from her hand, such that he could not guess where the next was com­ing from. 20, 30, 40, 50 swats from her and he was already start­ing to move around in some discomfort.

Have you learnt your les­son?” she asked dryly.

Yes Miss Sven­son, it won’t hap­pen again Miss Sven­son” he panted.

we’ll see”. Fetch me the slip­per and the pad­dle. He took him­self off her lap, the sting­ing spank­ing dis­pelling his impu­dent arousal and pick­ing up the items, sheep­ishly handed them back to her.

Resume the posi­tion” she ordered, and he did so. The old rub­ber soled gym slip­per was next on the agenda and again she swat­ted his but­tocks evenly, but not too hard, lest she overdo it and deny her­self the plea­sure of the cane and birch. 50 method­i­cal strikes from the slip­per was a change of pace for the boy and he started to squirm around on her lap, restrained by her grip on his arm. “Strug­gling will not help you” she mut­tered and she laid the slip­per beside her and picked up the pad­dle. The cool breeze on the but­tocks before each stroke was fol­lowed with a harsh sting and the stu­dent began to cry out occa­sion­ally. Miss Sven­son ignored his cries and com­pleted the 50 strokes with the pad­dle she felt he merited.

Stand back in the cor­ner in the posi­tion” she com­manded. and he returned to the stress she had orig­i­nally placed him in. His bot­tom glowed red, but Miss Sven­son knew that her duty was incom­plete and only after the appli­ca­tion of some other instru­ments might the extent of his mis­de­meanour be brought home to him.

She posi­tioned a large bol­ster pil­low onto the mat­tress at the foot of her bed and posi­tioned him over it, face on the mat­tress, legs spread and bot­tom in the air.

We move now to the lat­ter stages of your pun­ish­ment” she said coldly, “but do not think the end is in sight yet, there is more oppor­tu­nity for reflec­tion yet”.

Yes Miss Sven­son” he said meekly.

She picked up the tawse and felt the smooth­ness of it against her hand. ìThis is a tawseî she instructed him, ìan orig­i­nal Lochgelly, not that you would appre­ci­ate its prove­nance. You may well come to appre­ci­ate the work­man­ship how­ev­erÖî, and with that, laid a fierce stripe across his cheeks. He vis­i­bly jumped and it must have dawned on him this was again a change in the level of admonishment.

I would like you to count out these strokes for me, stat­ing my name and the num­ber of strokes after each blow.”

Yes Miss Svenson”

She laid another stripe on him.

Miss Sven­son, One”

That is incor­rect” she chuck­led, “that was the sec­ond blow, so we must start again.” Miss Sven­son raised her arm and began admin­is­ter­ing the blows again.

Miss Sven­son, One”, “Miss Sven­son, Two, “Miss Sven­son, Three”, “Miss Sven­son, Four”, “Miss Sven­son, Five” ‚“Miss Sven­son, Six”, “Miss Sven­son, Seven”, “Miss Sven­son, Eight”, “Miss Sven­son, Nine”, “Miss Sven­son, Ten”.

With each blow his reply became more fal­ter­ing and the shock and pain in his but­tocks could be heard in the trem­bling tone of his voice.

She looked closely at his but­tocks, now almost blis­ter­ingly red, no blood drawn given her skill, but the skin had been taken almost to its limits.

Almost.

To fin­ish I will give you a taste of my home­land, and I don’t mean some some non­sense you might buy in Ikea. I have a friend who makes fine birches and as my luck would have it, I have received a new one today, made of wil­low rather than hazel luck­ily for you, but it will be rather breath­tak­ing i’ll wager. As before, i would like you to count.”

ìTen strokes young man, and then i think we are done here.î

She thought he breathed a sigh of relief, but per­haps was just steal­ing him­self for this new unknown. She felt the tex­ture of each twig and then whip­ping her arm quickly, swished the birch across his bottom.

Miss Sven­son, One”, “Miss Sven­son, Two, “Miss Sven­son, Three”, “Miss Sven­son, Four”, “Miss Sven­son, Five” ‚“Miss Sven­son, Six”, “Miss Sven­son, Seven”, “Miss Sven­son, Eight”, “Miss Sven­son, Nine”, “Miss Sven­son, Ten”.

As he reached seven, eight, nine, she could sense she had taken him to his thresh­old and with the tenth blow, she felt him break, she had accom­plished he goal, he would remem­ber this pun­ish­ment for some time to come.

I shall leave the cane for another day I think, but rest assured, any repeat of today’s behav­iour and it will be brought into play and I may con­sider can­ing you in front of your mother.

No, no, i’ll never let this hap­pen again, I swear Miss Svenson.”

Very well then, begone and reflect on what you have learnt today” The naughty young man slowly walked down­stairs and gin­gerly walked around to his parent’s house and the pre­sumed relief of ice on his now bright red cheeks.

A new day and Miss Sven­son went to her porch to fetch the paper. “Hullo” said Mirs Prim and Proper from next door. “How are you Miss Svenson?”

Well my dear” she replied, “but a lit­tle sore in my arm for some rea­son today.”

Must be some­thing going around?” Mrs Prim replied “young David has been in bed all yes­ter­day and this morn­ing, says he feels very sore and unwell.”

Miss Sven­son smiled to her­self “well, I hope he gets well soon,” and as she walked back to her front door she paused. Look­ing up she saw David peek­ing at her from behind the cur­tain, a faint smile on his lips. Per­haps, Miss Sven­son mused, one les­son may not be enough with this one. But that is another story…

 

Miss Svensonís spanking story competition, an update.

Friday, June 17th, 2011

I have received a lot of good sto­ries †- well done to all for this.

The last date to sub­mit a story for this com­pe­ti­tion will be Mon­day 20th of June. If you haven’t writ­ten your story yet don’t worry there will be a new com­pe­ti­tion in Sep­tem­ber and any sto­ries received after 20th will be saved for the sec­ond competition.The prize for the best story in the Sep­tem­ber com­pe­ti­tion will be the same — a free 40 min spank­ing session.

Story Competition — eight entry by Tommy.…

Thursday, June 16th, 2011

MISS SVENSON

It was 11AM, I was stay­ing at my mumís and Iíd only just got out the shower and dressed. The rain was pour­ing down out­side and I’d resolved to have a lazy day indoors. I had my girlie mags and a wad of tis­sues at the ready as I knew no-one would be home until at least 3PM. Then came the knock at the door that would change my day completely.

I opened the door to find Miss Sven­son, a fam­ily friend, stand­ing there some­what bedrag­gled in the rain. Miss Sven­son is a lovely woman, a schoolmistress with old fash­ioned val­ues but a great sense of humour. She is about 10 years older than me, and she has the most fan­tas­tic fig­ure and stun­ning looks with long shapely legs and breasts that super­mod­els a frac­tion of her age would kill for. Her blond hair nor­mally ablaze around her head and shoul­ders was now hang­ing in strands due to the rain. I realised I could­nít leave her stand­ing in the rain but how could I ask her in with the girlie mags and tis­sues strewn all over the table where I had fool­ishly left them. I had to think quickly.

Hi Miss Sven­son, come in out of the rain, I think you bet­ter go right up to the bath­room and get dried off, shall I make some tea? I said.

Yes, hello Tommy, she said, OK Iíll just go up and dry off and yes I could do with a cuppa.î And off up the stairs she went.

Relief, I thought, now I can get rid of the evi­dence, and the mags and tis­sues got stuffed into a drawer out of sight while I went and put the ket­tle on.

Miss Sven­son was back down stairs in a few min­utes and she looked as though sheíd never been in the rain, her blond hair swirling around her head and shoul­ders and look­ing stun­ning as usual. As we sat and drank tea she told me sheíd just come to drop some things off for my mum. I told her my mum would­nít be back until 3PM but she said it was ok and put a pack­age on the table for her say­ing she would have to go soon any­way. As she sat back she crossed her legs reveal­ing an expanse of white creamy thigh above her stock­ing top and I could­nít help but gaze at the shapely legs that I was in the per­fect posi­tion to see. Miss Sven­son must have noticed me look­ing at her legs because she uncrossed them and smoothed her skirt down as she leaned for­ward to put her teacup back on the table. As she did so I was treated to another won­der­ful sight as her ample cleav­age came into view once again. Sit­ting back she said, ìWell then Tommy, I bet­ter be off,î and stand­ing up she said, oh, could I bor­row an umbrella, I know your mum keeps one in here.î And to my hor­ror she indi­cated the drawer where I had stuffed the girlie mags and tissues.

Before I could say a word she had opened the drawer and with a small gasp she saw the mag­a­zines and picked them up. She looked at me and must have seen by my face that they were mine.

She said, My Good­ness Tommy, Iím sur­prised at you.î wav­ing the mag­a­zines around she went on This is some­thing I’d expect of a naughty lit­tle boy not a grown man.

I was so embar­rassed I did­nít know where to look or what to say, I just sat there dumbstruck.

What would your mother say? she con­tin­ued, ìbut per­haps I should­nít tell her eh? She’d be so embar­rassed, per­haps I should just deal with you myself.

I looked up at her in sur­prise but she con­tin­ued, do you know what I do with naughty lit­tle boys? I put them across my knee and give them a good old fash­ioned long and hard, bare bot­tom spank­ing. Yes, a spank­ing Tommy, thatís right, across my knee with trousers and under­pants down, yes on the bare bottom.

The thought of me being spanked across her knee flashed through my mind, Iíd never been spanked in my entire life and now it was a very real prospect, but then no, Miss Sven­son might have old fash­ioned val­ues, but she also has a sense of humour, she could­nít be seri­ous, could she? Well, could she?

She must have seen the look of incredulity in my face because she then said, ìYouíd bet­ter believe it Tommy, because you have been a very naughty boy, not just for hav­ing these mag­a­zines but the way youíve been look­ing up my skirt and down my blouse all the time Iíve been here. She was right of course, I had been. She went on, As you have been a very naughty boy I am not just going to spank you, Iím going to give you a taste of my old school strap before you go over my knee.

As I said before Miss Sven­son was a schoolmistress and although the strap had been banned many years before she still kept her old one and even if she had­nít used it in years it looked as though I was about to find out whether she could still wield it as well as she used to.

Yes, Tommy,î she said reach­ing into her bag from which she pulled a long leather strap that split into 2 thongs for the last 8 inches or so ìthe strap, she said swing­ing it down on to the sofa, ìIím sure youíve had this before.

She was right of course, I had. At school the strap was tra­di­tion­ally given on the hand as pun­ish­ment for var­i­ous rea­sons and I had received my fair share before it was banned.

Come here, said Miss Sven­son, draw­ing the strap through her hands. Sheep­ishly I stood up and walked over to her, I could­nít think of any rea­son not to, and I held up my hand to receive the strap. She laughed and said, ìOh no Tommy, not on the hand, take down your trousers and bend over the sofa.

I was hor­ri­fied, there was no way she could mean it, but then DO IT NOW!î she yelled and I knew she was seri­ous but I still could not do as she said. Sud­denly she grabbed a hold of me by the belt, which she undid, then she undid my flies and pulled my trousers down to my ankles. She then pushed me into a bend­ing posi­tion over the sofa where she held me with one hand on my back while she placed the strap across my bot­tom over my under­pants. She lifted the strap high and swung it down through the air to land WHACK! across both cheeks of my bot­tom, she swung again and again it landed with a resound­ing WHACK! again and again, WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! a total of six times across both cheeks of my bot­tom which was now sting­ing madly.

She lifted her hand from my back and as I started to get up she said smartly, Stay where you are,î and I felt her fin­gers slide into the waist­band of my under­pants and she pulled them back, bar­ing my bot­tom, ìnaughty boys like you who donít do as they are told deserve to be pun­ished on the bare bot­tom, she said, lay­ing the strap across my bare bot­tom, the cold leather felt nice and cool on the bare skin, she con­tin­ued, ìIím going to teach you to do as youíre told and remem­ber when I tell you to take your trousers down in future you will do it!î and with that she drew the strap its full length across my bare bot­tom and brought it swing­ing down through the air until it landed THWACK! across both cheeks of my bare bottom.

I yelped and tried to leap up but her hand pushed me back and kept me there as she said, ìOne dozen I think Tommy, to teach you to do as you’re told, and the strap came down again and again THWACK! and THWACK! onto my bare behind. My bum was really on fire now and I still had nine to go and sure as her word, the strap landed again, and again, THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK in quick suc­ces­sion on my burn­ing but­tocks. Only three more to go now and I was try­ing not to yell out or even cry as I could feel my eyes welling up but more strangely I could feel another sen­sa­tion, I was get­ting an erec­tion, but then THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! went the strap on my bare bot­tom and it was over, but my erec­tion was still throb­bing in my pants.

My bum was ablaze now as she pulled my pants back over my bot­tom, which she then smacked with her hand as she told me to get up. I stood up and bent to pull up my trousers when Miss Sven­son stopped me by say­ing, Leave those alone, there is still the not too small mat­ter of your spank­ing to be dealt with, you are not get­ting away with that so eas­ily. So I left my trousers around my ankles and she said, I hope you have learned a les­son today Tommy and that when I tell you to do some­thing from now on I expect you to do it right away, am I mak­ing myself clear! I nod­ded dumbly.

I could­nít believe that this woman, only 10 years older than myself, was talk­ing to me like this after giv­ing me 18 whacks with a strap across my bot­tom the last 12 of which were on the bare bot­tom and over and above that she now intended to put me across her knee and spank me! Miss Sven­son care­fully rolled up her strap and put it away in her bag. Look­ing at me she said, Well Tommy, Iíve given you a good thrash­ing with my strap but as you deserve I am now going to put you over my knee and spank you long and hard, come here.

With that she sat on the sofa and brought me round to her side. She imme­di­ately pulled down my under­pants expos­ing my man­hood, then slid up to the edge of her seat caus­ing her skirt to ride up her exquis­ite thighs reveal­ing a glimpse of sus­penders above her stock­ing tops, stretched taut across her milky thighs. Over my knee! she snapped and pulled me across her lap, as her hand came down with a loud and tin­gling SMACK! across my bare bottom.

First SMACK! on one cheek, then SMACK! on the other cheek and SMACK! again on both cheeks again and again and again, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! while I squirmed across her knee. My bot­tom was burn­ing but her hand con­tin­ued the relent­less spank­ing, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! as she spanked me until I lost count of the smacks she was rain­ing on my bare bot­tom. She finally stopped after about 15 min­utes or so and what must have been over a cou­ple of hun­dred smacks and she told me to get up. Miss Sven­son then stood up and turn­ing me around landed another very hard SMACK! with her hand on my bare bot­tom, ìRight Tommy,î she said, ìpull up your pants and trousers, and I really do hope that you have learned your les­son today, because if I find you mis­be­hav­ing again or not doing as you are told I will have no hes­i­ta­tion in tak­ing down your trousers and under­pants again and putting you across my knee for another good long hard spank­ing.î And with that and a wink she put on her coat and left.

 

From Miss Blackstock’s Diaries:

Wednesday, June 15th, 2011

Wednes­day 24 November

A depress­ing day, at every level. I came home early from my lunch-break and caught my trusted sec­re­tary , Celia, red-handed, going through my draw­ers. She insisted that she was just look­ing for some blotting-paper, but one look at her face told me that was a lie. My first instinct was to sack her on the spot but, for bet­ter or worse, I decided on an alter­na­tive strat­egy. If the cane con­cen­trates boysí minds, there is no rea­son why it should not con­cen­trate the mind of a mar­ried woman of thirty-five!

I made her wait around after school, then informed her of my ver­dict, non-negotiable: she was to receive ten strokes of the senior cane, hav­ing first removed her under­wear. She found the sec­ond ele­ment of the pun­ish­ment even more objec­tion­able than the first and begged me to let retain her knick­ers to pro­tect her mod­esty. ëMod­esty be damned!í I said, reach­ing for my cane. It felt odd flog­ging a woman ñ hope­fully, for the first and last time. Celi­aís but­tocks were much fleshier than those of a teenage boy, and the can­ing made a ter­ri­ble racket. But she took it sto­ically and, as she rubbed her bot­tom after­wards, thanked me for giv­ing her a sec­ond chance. But it was a dispir­it­ing inci­dent. I did­nít become a teacher to whack grown wom­enís bottoms.