Girl School Spanking

Girl School Spanking
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Who remembers their school spankings? I recently passed by the site of one of my old schools in Tyne and Wear UK (houses have been built there now) and memories of corporal punishment there came flooding back. I thought I’d share my memories of my school spankings. For the sake of privacy, I’ll only use the initial of teachers’ names but I’m happy to name the schools as they are no longer in existence.
My first school was Albany Infants. My teacher there was Ms M, a lady in her 50s – a proper old style teacher, fair but firm. When I was six, a lad wound me up on the playground so I spat at him (a very wrong thing to do, I know). He reported me and I was sent to Ms M, who spanked my (clothed) bottom. Nothing was said at home, and I never got in bother there again.
My second school was Albany Juniors, where my teachers were a Miss B and Mr H. Miss B was a young teacher in her 20s. She loved heavy metal – a proper headbanger if you remember those days. She was also a spanker, even for things like getting your times tables or spellings wrong. These spankings were given with trousers down but thankfully on the seat of your underpants. It seemed like almost every day, I was in front of the class getting my bottom spanked for getting stuff wrong.
Mr H was my second teacher there, and he just hated me. I got more spankings off him than ever before got in my life – I must have had a sore bottom at least twice a week. Mr H used to make you wait after school to be punished – he put a slipper across our bottoms – and it was so bad I sometimes wet myself with fear in anticipation. What’s more, I generally got the slipper from my parents too when I got home.
Not long after this it was discovered that I had learning problems, so I was sent to a special school in Sunderland. The headmaster, Mr R, was a strange man. I remember going with my mam and auntie for an introduction to the school. Mr R sat me on his lap and he kept tickling me in fun.
However, things quickly got more serious when he mentioned that the punishment for bad behaviour was the dreaded cane. It sent a shiver down my back. Mr H told my mother that I would be caned on the bare bottom – three strokes for less serious issues and ‘six of the best’ if I was really naughty.
I began to cry thinking about the prospect when, just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, he told my mam and auntie that he liked to give new pupils a taste of the cane before they started as a warning of what to expect if they were naughty. To my dismay, I had my pants taken down in front of my mam and auntie right there and then and received two strokes of the cane across my bare bottom. It hurt so much that I determined to be a very good boy, and never saw that cane again during the three years I was at that school.
I then went to Donwell Special School, and this was the school where I received corporal punishment the most. My teachers there were Mrs W, Mr A, Mr L and Mrs E.
Mrs W (who was the deputy head) was a right bitch. She was a bare bottom spanker and she knew how to do it, too. If your bottom wasn’t black and blue by the time she’d finished with you, she wasn’t well. Not one child ever got away with not having a bruise off her, girl or boy.
Mr A slapped bare legs and that damn well hurt. I remember being at the swimming baths and me and my mate were carrying on. Mr A came up and slapped my legs, again leaving a bruise. He must have been concerned about it as the next day at break time he told me to stay back at moment. I thought I was going to get slapped again but Mr A only asked me if I had a bruise from my smacking. I told him I had. He asked to see it, and after he had inspected it he asked if my parents had seen it. I replied in the negative and he seemed relieved. Certainly, he never hit me again.
Mr L was a big, tall teacher. He could not only mentally but physically put you in your place – he would grab you by the scruff of the neck, drag you to the corner and give one hard smack on the bottom – that was it.
Mrs E was a proper ‘old style’ teacher, and I had great respect for her. We actually had dinner together not long before her death, as we had kept in touch. She was in her 80s by then but still had her marbles.
Mrs E was a belter – she didn’t think twice about making you drop your trousers and pants, and giving your bare backside a good belting. I tell you, you didn’t sit down for two days afterwards.
When I had dinner with Mrs E as an adult, we spoke about how things had changed since I was at school. She said that respect had gone out of the window when CP stopped in schools, and that kids needed discipline to teach them right from wrong.
Well, one thing led to another as we talked about old times, and after I said I’d like to see whether she could still give it out, Mrs E had me bare my bottom like old times and gave me the belt. It still hurt a great deal, even as an adult! Rest in peace, Mrs E.
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The year was 1972. I was just about to start the 4th grade at my new school, a Catholic school. I was new to the neighborhood and didn’t know anybody yet, but I was anxious to make new friends. However, I was a little hesitant about going to this school. It would be my first time attending a Catholic school and it was made clear when I enrolled that corporal punishment was allowed. This concerned me, as I had never been spanked before. I tried not to think too much about it as the first day of school approached.
On that first day, I dressed in my new school uniform which was something else that was new for me. I wore navy blue dress pants, a white button down dress shirt, and a clip on tie. All the boys wore this same uniform while the girls wore a blue plaid jumper over a white blouse. My mom drove me to school that first day and I entered my classroom.
My teacher was Sister H. She was an old school nun, cold and stern. It was clear from day one that she would not tolerate any misbehavior or disobedience. I also found out through some of my new classmates that corporal punishment at school was worse than I was expecting. During lunch and recess that first day some of the guys in my class were educating me and one other new student about it. Basically, every teacher had the right to spank as they saw fit. Some teachers were more strict than others, but all were known to spank in some fashion. For more serious offenses you would be sent to the rectory to be disciplined by Father D with a leather belt. And then they told me the piece of information that scared me the most. Teachers could spank you on your bare butt if they chose, and many did.

I was mortified by this information. The idea of getting spanked was bad enough, but having to pull down my pants and underwear too! I was a very timid boy and the idea of having to disrobe in front of a teacher would be a nightmare come true.
It didn’t take long to find out how strict Sister Helen was. On the third day of school one of the boys, Andy, burped loudly right in the middle of class. Sister H chewed him out and then ordered him to come up to the front of the classroom. Andy turned pale and slowly got out of his seat, but didn’t move forward. In the meantime, Sister H grabbed her chair and brought it out in front of her desk.
When she saw that Andy hadn’t moved, she said, “Andrew G, get up here right now!”
Andy put his head down and walked the green mile towards Sister. She was now sitting in the chair facing the class. When Andy got close enough she grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards her so that he was standing right next to her on her left. Without saying a word, her hands went to Andy’s waist. I watched transfixed in horror as she methodically unbuckled his belt and unzipped and unsnapped his pants. She roughly yanked them down to his ankles. Then her fingers went to the waistband of his white underpants and quickly slid them down to join his trousers. He stood there completely bare form his waist to his ankles in a dress shirt and tie.
Sister H then looked Andy in the eye and said, “Andy, why are you being punished?”
Even from my vantage point I could see Andy’s lip quiver as he said, “Because I burped.”
Sister H then asked, “And now how am I going to punish you?”
Andy responded something but was so faint he couldn’t be heard.
Sister H said, “Speak up so the whole class can hear you!”
This time Andy said, “You’re gonna spank me.”
“How am I going to spank you, Andy?”
Andy seemed a bit confused and said, “With your hand?”
“Yes, I am going to spank you with my hand, but that isn’t what I meant. Where are your pants?”
Andy looked down and then said, “At my ankles.”
On the verge of tears, he replied, “My ankles.”
Sister H asked, “Why are they at your ankles?”
Andy responded, “Because you pulled them down, Sister.”
Sister H seemed mildly exasperated. “And why did I pull them down, young man?”
Leading him to the answer, she asked, “To spank you on your? What?”
Suddenly it came to Andy what she was driving at. “To spank me on my bare bottom?”
“That’s right.” She now looked at the class. “I want all of you to pay attention because this is what will happen to bad little boys and girls in this class. You will be spanked on your bare bottom.”
With that, she guided Andy over her lap. She pushed up his shirt tails to his mid-back then proceeded to give Andy a good hard spanking. The smacks on his bare skin were loud inside the classroom and Andy was soon crying loudly as well. After about 20 smacks the spanking was over. She then had Andy shuffle over to the corner to stand there with his back to us and his pants and underwear still at his ankles.
“You will stand here with your naughty bottom on display for 10 minutes.”
Just like that, class resumed, although many of us couldn’t help but look over at Andy and his red behind in the corner. After 10 minutes were up Sister Helen simply said, “Pull up your pants, Andy, and go back to your seat.”
My senses had been overwhelmed and I found it difficult to focus the rest of the day. I hoped and prayed I would not end up like Andy at some point.

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