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Such a Naughty Girl (part 1/2)
by Pablo

Sally Heriot was in deep trouble, and it was just so unfair. Despite being the eighteen-year-old head prefect of St. Catherine's School for Girls, she'd been slippered by the Headmistress the previous day, and faced the prospect of a painful spell across her father's knee later that day, unless her sister Charlotte could manage to get a confession from the girl who was responsible for the whole mess: the real culprit.

Sally hadn't slept a wink, but she wasn't tired at all; a potent cocktail of excitement at seeing her father for the first time in a month, and a nervous fear of his paternal anger and the spanking to which she seemed to be doomed had kept her awake most of the night. During her first two terms as Head Girl, Sally had administered quite enough over-the-knee punishment spankings to younger pupils to understand how a firm hand was often both necessary and loving; still, the thought of her Daddy being sufficiently displeased with her behaviour to believe that smacking her bottom was the best course of action made her feel sick with shame and a sense of injustice. She was sure she'd feel different if she'd genuinely earned the slippering; if she really had been such a naughty girl. But she hadn't. She was a good, sensible girl, she told herself.

She slipped out of bed, and pulled back the curtains, revealing a fine spring morning. From her bedroom at the front of the school, Sally could see the long gravel drive along which her father's car would approach. It was early, but her father always came early. She did want to see him - she loved him dearly - but she couldn't stop the butterflies in her stomach. He would go to see the Headmistress first, to find out about his daughters' academic progress and behaviour since his last visit; Sally knew how the two of them would joke and smile ruefully about Charlotte's behaviour - scarcely a week could pass between her sister's school wallopings - and then how shocked and dismayed her father would be at the news that his elder daughter had also received a spanking.

Sally sighed. The previous day, her school knickers - all ten pairs - had been stolen. She'd been slippered by the Headmistress for wearing non-regulation knickers. And she would be spanked by her father because she'd been slippered by the Headmistress.

Unless - and Sally hoped and hoped and hoped just as hard as she was able - unless Charlotte had squeezed a confession out of the knicker- thief. Not only would Sally prove her innocence and avoid her father's discipline, she would have the evidence to make sure the little minx received such a spanking - in front of the whole school, Sally thought, her blazing red bottom on display - that she wouldn't sit for a week. Everything depended on Charlotte. But there was so little time!

Although it was a Saturday, this still meant full, formal school uniform for St. Catherine's girls. Sally put on her uniform: snug maroon regulation knickers (returned the previous evening just as mysteriously as they had vanished); grey knee-socks, with a maroon band; a long-sleeved, stiff-collared white shirt, underneath her gymslip in the school tartan, which she belted with a grey sash; maroon blazer with grey trim; sensible brown lace-up shoes. Brushing her short blonde hair (with her own hairbrush, not the large wooden affair she used to administer more severe spankings), Sally could see that the uniform was incomplete. Although she'd buttoned her shirt-collar, in the required fashion, there was no school tie around her collar. Not that she needed the mirror. Sally hardly felt in uniform at all without her school tie. She wore her uniform with great pride: smart and formal, like a military uniform. As Head Girl, she was an ambassador for the whole school, and, more than anything else, the maroon and grey striped tie was the symbol of the school. She missed the ritual of putting on the tie, and she missed its presence under her chin.

Unless hers and Charlotte's scheme paid off - and soon! - she would have to continue missing it for the next week, whilst it sat in a drawer in Miss Grainger's study, along with the school ties of many other, similarly-spanked girls, and she paraded around the school with a bare collar, showing all the other girls that not even the Head Prefect was too big for a sound bottom-warming. Along with Charlotte's tie. And along with Jodie's, Sally remembered. The little minx hadn't got Sally slippered without avoiding a spanking herself, though a few smacks with a slipper were nothing compared to what Sally had in store for Jodie when things had been sorted out.

Sally's heart sank as she heard the faint rumble of a car engine. Sure enough, she saw her father's car in the distance. Sally found herself frantically estimating how long it would take for the car to reach the school, how long he would spend with the Headmistress, and how long all the other things would take that stood between her and her first - at eighteen years old - spanking across her father's knee. She wished Charlotte would hurry! She wished she'd never seen Jodie McAllister!

By the time of Jodie McAllister's arrival at St. Catherine's, at the beginning of the Summer Term, all of the girls at the school knew Sally Heriot to be a strict disciplinarian; over a third of them had experienced at first hand just how much Sally had learned about the corporal punishment of schoolgirls during that baptism of fire in Miss Grainger's study - including a pair of sixth-formers actually a few weeks older than Sally. She'd upended them and warmed their bare seats for smoking, with no regard for their maturity. After all, smoking was hardly a sign of maturity; nor was the way they both bawled during their hairbrushings.

In addition to the everyday smack-bottoms given to younger girls - usually with pyjamas down, in the dorm at bedtime - for relatively minor misdemeanours, there were a couple of group spankings - both severe and memorable - tales of which quickly gained mythical status amongst the more impressionable girls.

In the Autumn Term, scarcely two weeks after becoming Head Girl, Sally had been called on by Miss Robbins, the gym mistress, to spank the entire second-form hockey team (including the substitutes) after a fight involving both teams had broken out during a game against a visiting school, and two girls had been slightly injured. Miss Robbins, obviously fuming, discussed appropriate punishments with the mistress from the other school, then left for the hospital with the injured girls, telling Sally: "I want them slippered, right now. A dozen with pants up, and another dozen with pants down." So Sally and the visiting mistress shepherded the squabbling girls into the gymnasium, fetched a couple of wooden stools, lined the girls up, then spanked every one of them. While the other mistress slippered her own girls, Sally slippered the St. Catherine's girls. Still muddy and sweaty, and still wearing their hockey kits, each twelve- or thirteen-year-old was placed across the knee, her pleated gym-skirt was raised, and Sally's plimsoll set to work, first on the tight gym-knickers, then on the bare bum, with knickers at half-mast. Sally suspected that her right arm ached rather more than the girls' smacked bottoms on that occasion.

Later in the term, Sally was requested by the mathematics mistress, Miss Payne, to chastise three sixteen-year-old fifth-formers who she'd caught cheating in a mock examination. She would have punished the girls herself, she told Sally (her preferred method was to use a long-plastic ruler over knickers, with the girl draped over her desk) but she wanted the girls to be humiliated in front of their classmates with over-the-knee spankings on their bare bottoms, and she could neither manage to place physically-mature young ladies over her knee (Miss Payne was very small indeed, and rather frail), nor take down their knickers for punishment (this privilege being restricted to the Head, Deputy Head, and the Head Girl). So, Sally fetched her hairbrush and, hearing from Miss Payne the seriousness of the offence, administered three of the very hardest spankings of the year. Holding the large girls across her lap, she raised their kilts, lowered their school knickers, then paddled their bottoms cherry-red, while the other girls looked on in stunned silence, and the naughty spankees howled, thoroughly and sincerely repentant.

Sally had administered spankings for all sorts of misbehaviour, but the girls at St. Catherine's knew that if one thing was liable to earn them a sore bottom, it was failing to comply with the school uniform rules. Like a sergeant-major with sloppy new recruits, Sally's own uniform was always beyond reproach, and she expected no less from her girls. Persistent offenders would expect to find themselves staring at the carpet in Sally's room.

Having been invited to the Headmistress's study to meet the new girl and her mother, Sally's first impression of Jodie McAllister certainly hadn't been that complying with the St. Catherine's school uniform rules would be a problem for the girl. A mature fourteen- year-old, Jodie McAllister was wearing the uniform of her previous school, and it was very smart indeed - it looked like Jodie and her mother had resolved to make a fine first impression. Jodie sat primly, sweetly demure in a chocolate-brown gym-tunic and stockings. Her brown and sky-blue striped blazer was lying at her side, so the sky-blue collar and sleeves of her school shirt contrasted sharply with the brown of the tunic. She wore the shirt with no tie but with the collar neatly buttoned - like, Sally couldn't help thinking, a recently-spanked St. Catherine's girl.

A greater contract than the blue and brown was provided by Jodie's hair, which was long, pony-tailed, and an extraordinary white - blonder than blonde, icy.

Jodie looked positively angelic, and yet there was something about her which made Sally's right palm itch. This proved to be prescient, as Mrs McAllister explained:

"You see, Jodie's always been such a naughty girl. When she was little, I would smack her - lift her dress and just a couple of smacks on the bottom - but as she got older, my husband took over the job of disciplining her, along with her brother. When she was bad, I would get him to take her into his study and give her a proper punishment."

"You mean he would spank her," asked Miss Grainger.

"Yes."

"How did your father spank you, Jodie?" the Headmistress asked the girl, whose fair features blushed at once.

"With his hand, mostly," said Jodie, uncomfortably.

"Did he ever use anything else, like a hairbrush, or a slipper?"

"Sometimes a slipper."

"How did he position you for the spankings?"

"Always across his knee."

"And did he spank you over your clothes, or were they...adjusted?"

"Sometimes he spanked me over my knickers, but mostly he took them down, and I got it on the bare."

Mrs McAllister nodded at this, confirming her daughter's account.

"Fine," said the Headmistress. "Then young Jodie will be quite accustomed to the techniques we use here at St. Catherine's."

"She's missed her father's firm hand since we separated," explained Mrs McAllister, "and I'm hoping this school can take his place. She's been at Meadowbank Girls since the start of the year, and it's a good school, but they've no corporal punishment there, and I do think that a good old-fashioned spanking now and then is just what Jodie needs. She's much too big now for me to handle."

"Don't worry, Mrs McAllister," reassured the Headmistress. "There isn't a girl in the school who won't fit across my knee if the need arises."

Sally and the Headmistress exchanged glances, their eyes smiling, while Jodie looked daggers at both of them.

Three days later, Jodie McAllister had exchanged the chocolate-brown and sky-blue of Meadowbank Girls' School for the maroon and grey of St. Catherine's, had been installed in the same dormitory as Charlotte Heriot - third-formers both - and was already causing irritation to her new House Captain, Abigail Rice.

A curious feature of the year had been how much Sally and Abigail had become great friends. They'd always had enormous respect for each other, but it seemed that the severe spankings they'd both received that day at the start of the year had knocked any envy and resentment out of their systems. Sally had had no reservations about recommending Abigail to be one of the new House Captains, and now she had a good and trusted deputy.

So, when Abigail told Sally in passing that Jodie was making a nuisance of herself, with various minor naughtinesses - talking after lights-out, being late for classes - Sally was on the lookout. The following morning, Jodie, uniform askew after PE, was stopped in the corridor by the Head Girl.

"Miss McAllister, your uniform is a disgrace," scolded Sally.

"Just had PE," Jodie blurted.

"And?" asked Sally. "Pull up your socks!"

Jodie sullenly pulled up her grey knee-socks.

"Button your shirt-collar!"

Jodie buttoned her collar. This was not as easy as it might have been; the collar of the new white school shirt was awfully stiff, and rather tight.

"Straighten your tie!"

Jodie adjusted her school tie, tightening the tie-knot and straightening the tie under her collar.

"That's better. Don't let me have to correct your uniform again. Do you hear?"

"Yes, miss," mumbled Jodie.

"Now, turn around and lift your kilt," Sally commanded.

Jodie did this, but slowly, lifting her maroon tartan kilt clear of her beknickered backside. Sally took aim and planted two firm hand-spanks on each of the third-former's buttocks, before sending Jodie on her way, grumpily rubbing her smacked seat.

Only two days later, the performance was repeated, only this time Jodie didn't have the excuse of having just changed into her uniform from her gym kit.

"Miss McAllister, tuck in your shirt-tails! Uniform regulations state that girls' school shirts must be tucked in at all times."

Jodie tucked her white shirt-tails into her kilt.

"Now, Miss McAllister, let down the hem of your kilt. Uniform regulations state that all kilts or gym-tunics must be knee-length."

Jodie released the folds of kilt that she'd tucked under the waist-band, hoisting the kilt to halfway up her white thighs. The kilt became knee-length once more.

Then, to the amusement of a cluster of sixth-formers, Sally bent the wriggling Jodie underneath her left arm, flipped up Jodie's kilt, and administered a quick but effective smack-bottom with her right palm on Jodie's pants, punctuating the spanking with a warning:

"Jodie McAllister, you will adhere to the uniform regulations of this school, or I will put you across my knee and give you the spanking of your lifetime. Are you listening?"

"Yes, miss," said Jodie between squeals.

So, when, the following day, Sally came upon Abigail Rice, leading a tie-less Jodie by the ear in the direction of Sally's room, Sally was livid. As if she didn't have anything else to do other than discipline this naughty girl!

Abigail, herself exasperated, explained: "Sal, little Miss McAllister here refuses to wear her school tie."

"I am wearing it!" pleaded Jodie, her ear a vivid red from Abigail's pinching. "The regulations don't say anything about where I have to wear it!"

Jodie showed the prefects that she was indeed wearing her school tie; she was wearing it around her waist, as a sash.

"My collar is buttoned," Jodie tugged at the tips of her starchy shirt-collar in demonstration, "and I am wearing my tie. Just like the regulations say."

Jodie looked at Sally, her lips curling into a bad-seed smile.

Sally exploded. Abigail had never seen her so angry, almost out of control. Sally took hold of Jodie's ear (the other one) and marched the girl towards her room, calling back:

"Would you come too, Abbie - I might need some assistance."

The three girls - eighteen-year-old senior prefects Sally and Abigail, fourteen-year-old Jodie - burst into Sally's room. Abigail shut the door and sat on the bed, watching Sally lead Jodie painfully by the ear to the large mirror above Sally's bookshelf. Sally tugged off Jodie's school blazer - leaving the girl in white shirt, kilt and grey socks - and removed Jodie's school tie from around her waist.

Sally held up the tie, looking at Jodie in the mirror. Jodie looked at Sally, still defiant but now a little fearful. She had her white hair in short plaits, in the current fashion, and her blue eyes were wide.

"You should be proud to wear this, you little brat," said Sally, and she meant it. "Why on earth do you think girls who've been walloped have their ties taken away? It's to shame them. Well, if that's how you want it, I shall give you the spanking that'll qualify you not to wear your school tie."

Jodie seemed to be about to issue some retort, but wisely thought better of it, and cast her eyes downwards.

"First, though," continued Sally, "you will put this on. I'm going to give you this tie, and then I'm going to start smacking your bottom. I'm going to continue smacking your bottom until you've put the tie on properly. If I don't think the tie looks smart enough, you will take it off and we'll try again."

Sally took hold of the hem of Jodie's kilt, and lifted it up. She was greeted by the sight of Jodie's pert little buttocks, encased in tight school knickers. They were school knickers alright, but they weren't St. Catherine's school knickers.

"What are these?" Sally asked.

"Regulation knickers, Miss," said Jodie, sarcastically.

"By God, you really do need the bottom-warming that you'll get before you leave this room. I should send you to the Headmistress, but she's far too busy to spend all her time walloping bad little girls."

Sally tucked Jodie's kilt and shirt-tails into the waist-band, leaving the girl's small but perfectly-formed bottom clear for her chastising palm.

"When I give you the tie, I start smacking. When the tie is on, I stop smacking. Okay?"

Sally gave Jodie her maroon and grey striped school tie, and had landed one measured, firm palm-spank to each buttock before Jodie was jolted into action.

Jodie turned up her already-buttoned shirt-collar and looped the tie around her neck, flinching as Sally landed more spanks. Jodie's hips swivelled as she tried to avoid the smacks, like a naughty child being summarily disciplined at the supermarket, but she wasn't going anywhere, and she needed to concentrate on fixing her tie-knot.

Another half-dozen smarting spanks, and the knot was complete. Quickly, Jodie pushed the knot up to the shirt-collar, and turned the collar down. The spanking stopped at once.

"That's not bad," appraised Sally, "but I'm sure you can do better. Turn around."

Sally lifted Jodie's chin, unknotted the tie, and slipped it from the collar.

"Try again."

Jodie groaned, but not for long, because Sally's hand began slapping against her rosy rump again. As quickly as she could, Jodie put on the school tie.

Fourteen spanks later, Sally's opinion was: "Hmm. One last time I think." So, she removed Jodie's tie, and, for a third time, Jodie put on the tie, to the accompaniment of the stinging spanking of her own bottom, by now quite sore and warm.

"Tighten the knot a little," instructed Sally, and issued a couple of light, chiding smacks. Jodie tightened and straightened the tie-knot, so that it stood square and proud below the high white collar.

"And make sure that your collar is tidy," added Sally, prompting Jodie to run her fingers around the collar, pushing the tie into place and folding down the stiff starchy cotton collar.

Sally gently patted each of Jodie's buttocks.

"Now, your collar and tie are nice and smart; exactly as they should have been. While I fill in the corporal punishment log, I want you to stand in the corner - over there, by the wardrobe - facing the wall." Jodie shuffled towards the designated corner. "Oh, and you can take down those knickers, so that Abigail and I can have a look at how your bottom is colouring up." Jodie very slowly eased down her thick brown knickers. "That's right, just to your knees. Now hands on head, miss, and don't let me see you rubbing, or there'll be trouble."

Jodie, subdued but certainly not chastened - not yet - palms on head, naked between the small of her back and the tops of her knee-socks, displayed the results of a smack-bottom which would have been traumatic for a five-year-old, but which for a fourteen-year-old was just a preliminary.

Sally sat at her desk and wrote in the small red punishment log:

Name: Jodie McAllister Punished by: Sally Heriot Place of punishment: Head Girl's study Reason for punishment: Persistent refusal to wear correct school uniform Nature of punishment: Jodie spanked whilst putting on school tie. Repeated three times Position used: Standing, in front of mirror Adjustment of clothing: Kilt turned up. Jodie spanked on seat of school knickers Implement used: Palm of hand No. of strokes: About 50 mild spanks, in total Comments: In view of persistent disobedience by this girl, and also discovery during punishment of non-regulation knickers, more formal punishment will be administered, severity to depend on Jodie's response

"Very well," said Sally, rising from her seat, moving her wooden spanking stool into the centre of the room. "Now we can get round to the proper punishment."

Sally pulled up Jodie's knickers, then led the naughty girl by the ear back to the stool, lifting herself onto the high seat, and standing the girl to her right.

"Your mother said you need a good old-fashioned spanking now and then," chided Sally, "and it seems she was right. I'm sure you think you're a big girl now, but even big girls sometimes need to be put over the knee and given a sore bottom."

Sally looked deep into Jodie's eyes and was surprised to see something like panic. Jodie was breathing quickly, her breasts pushing lightly against the cotton of her shirt-front. With her uniform now in place - the collar and tie snug around Jodie's neck - and her hair plaited, blue-eyed, wide-eyed Jodie looked awfully like a good little girl, genuinely fearful of impending punishment.

Sally put these thoughts aside. Jodie was a bad little girl and needed a spanking.

"Let's get it over with," said Sally, and manoeuvred the girl forward, upward, and across her lap, Jodie's body draping over her knees with a satisfying weight, plaits and tie dangling floorwards. Sally lifted her right knee slightly, moving Jodie's bottom into the best, most prominent position for a hand-spanking. The combined effect of Jodie's unceremonious position and her tight shirt-collar caused her face to redden almost at once. Jodie squirmed but - Sally thought - she must have been used to being placed in the nursery position, during her father's many over-the-knee spankings.

Sally took hold of the waist-band of Jodie's knickers. At this, an extraordinary keening erupted from the girl, taking both Sally and Abigail aback.

"Please, miss!" Jodie wailed, suddenly more like a four-year-old than a teenager. "Please don't take my knickers down! Please! I promise I'll be really good all the time, and that I'll never be naughty! I've learnt my lesson, miss, honestly I have. You don't have to spank me any more! Please, miss! Please!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby!" scolded Sally. "Of course I'm going to take your knickers down. A bare-bottom spanking is what you deserve, and a bare-bottom spanking is what you're going to get."

Sally began to ease down the brown school knickers, but Jodie's right hand whipped backwards, grabbing at the knickers and flailing, slapping at Sally's arms. What a performance!

"Take your hand away this instant!" said Sally. Did the girl have no shame, behaving so childishly?

But Jodie's hand held firmly onto her knickers, keeping her bottom-cheeks covered.

"Please, miss!" pleaded Jodie, rather pathetically.

"Abbie, would you please hold Jodie's hands," asked Sally.

"Of course."

Abigail moved to Sally's left, and prised Jodie's hand away, grasping both wrists very tightly, keeping them clear of the target area.

This brought an immediate response from Jodie, who writhed and kicked and screamed.

"You bitches! You fucking bitches are not going to spank me any more and you are not going to take my knickers down!"

Astonished by this outburst, Sally tore down Jodie's pants, and began furiously walloping her bare bottom with all available force. Incensed by this, Jodie managed to free one hand, threw it backwards, aiming for Sally's face, and scratched anything in range. While Sally protected her face, Jodie lifted her head and spat, leaving a trail of phlegm across Abigail's blazer and tie.

Both furious and nonplussed, Abigail looked at Sally and Sally looked at Abigail. Neither of them had seen anything remotely like this before - and from an apparently-angelic fourteen-year-old girl. St. Catherine's girls were used to corporal punishment at home, almost without exception. They might not like the spankings they got at school, but they knew they were deserved, and they accepted them with maturity and good grace. Usually.

"Don't you fucking dare, you bitches," continued Jodie.

"Maybe we should take Jodie to Miss Grainger," suggested Abigail, but Sally was steadfast.

"Oh no," she said. "We can deal with this little brat."

"Just you try it," warned Jodie.

"I'm sure you wouldn't have spoken to your father like that," said Sally, but this just brought derision from Jodie.

"Ha! That wimp? I could say anything I wanted to him. He wouldn't have done a thing."

"Now that's a lie. You admitted yourself that he used to spank you when you were naughty."

"He daredn't lay a finger on me," said Jodie. "She thinks he used to spank me because that's what she told him to do, and that's what he said he did."

Sally listened to this. "You're saying now that your father never spanked you?" she asked the bare-bottomed third-former.

"Never!"

"And your mother never did..." Sally reasoned, "...because she thought he did."

There was something badly wrong here. Sally's anger subsided. She lifted Jodie onto her feet, and the girl pulled up her pants.

"So what did your father do?" Sally asked Jodie, looking directly into her eyes, now seeing a little honesty for a change.

"Nothing. He had a small, half-inflated plastic football," said Jodie, remembering. "He would sit with it between his legs and spank it, just as if it was me, pretending to scold me. We used to laugh, but we had to be careful in case my mother heard. We had to play along. I would pretend to have a sore bottom, and sometimes I'd cry a bit if it was supposed to be a big spanking."

"How long did this go on for?" Sally asked, now quiet and solemn.

"From when I was seven, until they broke up last year."

Sally was shaken by this. For six crucial years of her childhood, Jodie had been denied exactly the sort of discipline she needed. In fact, she'd been denied any parental discipline at all, just like a young prince with a whipping boy. Sally could imagine the first time: seven-year-old Jodie, taken by her father into his study. She knows she's in for a bottom-warming, so she charms him with her big blue eyes, wheedles and cajoles, perhaps squeezes out a few tears. Her father, too weak to discipline his little girl, yet needing to placate his nagging wife, contrives a third way. Immediately all is lost. His daughter has complete control, and is well on the way to becoming a spoilt brat.

Just as if she'd been thrashed mercilessly every day, Sally thought, Jodie had been systematically abused for six years, by being denied the spankings she'd deserved and needed.

Poor kid, thought Sally, genuinely sympathetic. She couldn't help considering that she herself had turned out to be a good girl because she'd known for sure that if she'd earned a spanking, she would have got it. Jodie, on the other hand, had known that however badly she behaved, she would never be spanked; and this had resulted in the little monster she'd grown into.

To Abigail's surprise - and to Jodie's - Sally wrapped her arms around Jodie's shoulders and hugged the girl, just as tightly as she was able.

If there was a way back for Jodie, however, it had to start immediately, with a spanking the girl would remember for the rest of her life, to begin to make up for the parental chastisements that she'd needed so badly, but never received. Sally knew she was in a position to influence Jodie's future, and she didn't intend to shirk the responsibility in the same way Jodie's father had.

Sally guided the third-former to her bed, and the two girls sat down, while Abigail cleaned up her uniform. Sally took a deep breath, and thought about how she might approach the matter in hand. The year before - certainly before Sally's initiation into the corporal punishment philosophy across the Headmistress's lap, her own school knickers around her knees - the lecture she was about to give would have seemed bizarre and a little frightening. Now, though, she was quite certain that in many cases the cruellest thing to do to a growing teenage girl was to remain stubbornly blind to her continuing need for an occasional well-smacked bottom.

"Jodie," Sally began, trying to appear both stern and caring. "This spanking is very important. I know it's going to hurt, but you must realise that you need it, and that it's for your own good."

"Piss off," muttered Jodie under her breath, but Sally ignored the further abuse.

"You've shown by your behaviour that you're just a bad little girl - and perhaps that's your parents' fault - but it can change, and it's going to change, starting right now. I'd prefer it if you showed that you're grown up enough to know when you've earned a little-girl's punishment, and to accept it like a big girl, but either way you'll be getting a sound spanking before you leave this room."

Jodie set her jaw defiantly, to Sally's mild amusement.

"This is what's going to happen," Sally explained. "I'm going to put you back over my knee, take down your knickers, and give you a hand-spanking on your bare bottom. There'll be sixty hard smacks, and they'll hurt. Then you can spend a few quiet minutes thinking about how you can be better behaved in the future. Finally, it'll be back over my knee for a dose of the hairbrush. This will last as long as it takes for you to have learned your lesson."

"Piss off," Jodie repeated, louder than before.

"By this time, you will be crying, and I don't mean the sort of crocodile tears that would impress your father. Understand?"

Silence from Jodie.

"Now then," said Sally, "are you going to take the spanking like a big girl?"

"Piss!" said Jodie, spitting the word out at both Sally and Abigail. "Off!"

So Sally leapt into action. Jodie was an uncontrolled kid, but Sally was older, bigger, and stronger, and she had little difficulty pulling Jodie across her lap, holding the kicking, screaming girl around the waist. With Jodie's arms and legs flailing about, there was no way she'd be able to administer a proper, formal hand-spanking. This was not Sally's plan, however.

Keeping hold of the girl with her left arm, Sally used her right hand to loosen the knot of her own school tie, and pull the tie from her collar. She offered the tie to Abigail.

"Abbie," Sally asked, "would you please use this to tie Jodie's wrists together."

Abigail looked uncertain about this, and Jodie squealed in protest.

"I'm not sure we should..." began Abigail, but Sally was quick to reassure her.

"It's the only way, Abbie," she said. "If she won't lie still, then she'll have to be restrained. You can't hold her hands and her feet."

With some reluctance, Abigail agreed and, between the two of them, they managed to use Sally's maroon and grey striped tie to restrain Jodie's hands in front of her. The third-former sprayed invective around the room, and struggled against the knot, but was soon resigned to kicking her legs like a novice swimmer.

"Now could you deal with Jodie's feet, Abbie. Your own tie should do the trick."

Abigail wasn't at all sure about this. However, after having removed her school tie, and having received several kicks to the body from Jodie's feet, she was soon converted to Sally's way of thinking, and tied Jodie's ankles with some satisfaction, pausing to deliver - with Sally's tacit consent - a few stinging palm-smacks to the bare-backs of Jodie's thighs.

Once thus restrained - the prefects stopped short of gagging the girl, and she continued to spew out language utterly at odds with her sweet visage and schoolgirl uniform - it was easy for Sally to carry Jodie across to the spanking stool, and to lift the girl across her knee, in the traditional posture.

Sally gathered up Jodie's kilt, then lowered her knickers to mid-thigh, the thick, snug cotton pants releasing Jodie's little buttocks with a sigh, their pinkness remaining from the earlier, milder smack-bottom. And the hand-spanking began.

There was certainly no enjoyment for Sally in spanking this naughty little girl, but there was a clear sense of satisfaction from doing a job that really needed to be done, and doing it well. Her cupped right palm bounced blissfully from alternate buttocks, delivering crisp, sharp, painful spanks. As the hand-spanking progressed, Abigail and Sally noticed that Jodie's protestations became diminished, as the smarting, glowing sting in her bottom commanded her attention, and she fought to retain her composure.

At the delivery of the sixtieth hand-spank, Jodie's bottom had acquired a deep redness, the fingermarks cross-hatching into an even shade. Jodie breathed heavily, her face flushed, her fair hair untidy, her neck squeezing against the crisp shirt-collar.

Without saying a word, Sally lifted Jodie to her feet, dismounted from the stool, and then hoisted the girl back across the seat of the stool, bare bottom-cheeks uppermost, arms and legs tied, dangling, helpless.

"Five minutes," Sally announced. The three girls sat and lay in silence. Sally noted that there'd been no need to exhort Jodie not to rub her sore bottom; Jodie squirmed, wishing she was able to do exactly that.

At some low mutterings from the third-former, and at Sally's signal, Abigail rose to deliver a hearty wallop to each bare cheek, and instruct the girl to: "Shush!"

It was a long five minutes for Jodie, listening only to the metronome-throb of her smacked bottom, and she seemed almost glad when Sally lifted her back over the knee and asked Abigail to pass the hairbrush.

With long, slow backswings, Sally applied the heavy wooden hairbrush, keeping an even tempo. There would be no respite now until Jodie had been severely chastised. Jodie's already-red buttocks flattened and rebounded as wood met tender flesh, and the girl gasped with clear discomfort.

Soon, Jodie was bargaining for mercy.

"Please! That's enough! I'll be a good girl! I've learnt my lesson!"

Sally continued the paddling. After a further twenty blistering spanks, it was clear that Jodie could think only of the pain in her bottom. Her body jolted with each stroke, arms and legs kicking upwards; she screamed out pathetic pleas:

"Oh, it hurts! No more, please! Ouch! Owwww!"

But there was still some way to go, Sally could see. "I don't see any tears yet, young lady," she admonished, right arm beating out a constant tattoo.

Jodie's bottom was by now a glowering, angry, dark red, which contrasted sharply with her white thighs and shirt-tails.

Another dozen-or-so, and Jodie's pleas subsided. The brush-spanks were now followed by low grunts. A few more really hard spanks on the crowns of Jodie's buttocks, and Sally realised that the grunts were now guttural sobs. Taking this as her cue, she stepped up the tempo, stepping on the gas as would a car driver when the engine fires.

And the engine of Jodie's sobbing burst into life. While she bucked involuntarily under each fresh blow from Sally's hairbrush, Jodie's eyes streamed, her nose ran, and she cried like a little girl lost.

Sally measured out a dozen good spanks, then laid down the brush.

"Are you sorry for your misbehaviour?" Sally asked, and it was a short while before Jodie could reply, in a subdued and sniffing voice, to the affirmative.

"And you understand that if you're naughty in the future, you'll get the same again?"

"Y-yes."

"Fine. Just a final dozen with my hand, then, to make sure you remember."

This brought redoubled wailing from Jodie. Sally laid her palm on Jodie's right buttock, cupping the soft, quivering and extremely hot cheek, then delivered a brief, brisk hand-spanking.

She set the tearful, contrite girl on her feet, and gave her a big hug.

"After all that fuss at the beginning, you took that rather well. All over now! Clean slate."

Sally untied Jodie's wrists and ankles, and handed the girl a tissue. Suddenly released, Jodie used one hand to clean up her face, and the other to very carefully attend to her stinging bum. Sally lifted Jodie's chin, and removed the third tie: the one around Jodie's collar. This she stowed away in the box she kept for the purpose.

"Knickers up, Jodie!" chided Sally. "And don't let me see you wearing non-regulation knickers again. Knickers are part of your school uniform too."

Jodie hauled her chocolate-brown knickers up underneath her maroon tartan kilt, and over her now-maroon-tartan bottom-cheeks, the elastic waist-band and legs snapping into place. She put on her blazer.

"Off you go then," said Sally. "Shoo!"

Jodie looked at the prefects with sore, red eyes, then made her exit.

"That," said Abigail, as the two sixth-formers turned up their shirt-collars and began to put back on their ties, "was quite a spanking!"

When Abigail asked if it was the hardest spanking Sally had administered, Sally was set to thinking.

Name: Jodie McAllister Punished by: Sally Heriot Place of punishment: Head Girl's study Reason for punishment: Persistent refusal to wear correct school uniform. Wearing non-regulation knickers. Verbal and physical abuse of senior prefects. Nature of punishment: Severe, formal spanking Position used: Over-the-knee Adjustment of clothing: Kilt turned up, and knickers lowered. Spanking administered on bare bottom. Implement used: Palm of hand; back of hairbrush. No. of strokes: 60 hard hand-smacks, followed by about 60 hard hairbrush spanks. Final 12 hand-smacks. Comments: Spanking was continued until Jodie was crying freely.

Once she had completed the punishment log, Sally was disturbed to discover that simple arithmetic told her the answer to Abigail's question was 'yes'. Considering the 50 spanks Jodie had been given on the knicker-seat, prior to the 132 on the bare, over the knee, Jodie had been dealt with most severely. Realising with a start that it had taken rather more to bring this third-former to tears than had been necessary during her own trip across the Headmistress's lap, Sally was suddenly besieged by pangs of guilt. Had she been to harsh? After all, the girl was only fourteen. And yet, she thought, it had taken that much to make Jodie cry, and that was necessary, wasn't it? Had she been justified in tying Jodie's wrists and ankles? Well, what choice did she have, if the girl wouldn't lie still?

Head spinning, and decidedly uneasy about her omission from the punishment log of Jodie's school-tie restraint (though no less uneasy about what did appear in the log) Sally donned her blazer, and left for double Latin, knowing that she would not be able to concentrate.

That Friday, Sally woke in a hot flush, after the same, disturbing dream for the third night running. She'd tied Jodie McAllister over a vaulting-horse in the gymnasium, with her own school tie, for some trifling offence, then proceeded to thrash the girl's bare bottom with the sort of old school cane she'd only ever seen on television, or in old comics. Jodie's striped bottom grew and grew, like an overfilled balloon, until it burst deafeningly, jolting Sally awake.

Rubbing her eyes, Sally silently resolved to approach Jodie with some sort of apology for the genuinely severe walloping she'd received - the girl had been positively angelic since her long trip across Sally's knee. Sally was sure she could make the girl understand why she had needed a really hard spanking, but also why Sally had maybe gone a little too far.

Also, Sally was quite smart enough to know that she'd be in big trouble herself - enough for the hairbrush on the bare bottom from the Headmistress - if Jodie decided to report the circumstances of the spanking to a teacher.

Despite her conviction that Jodie's spanking had been necessary and beneficial - Jodie's improved behaviour surely attested to this - there was a permanent knot of guilt in her stomach, and the dreams continued.

Seeing that she had woken late, and must rush to get to morning assembly, Sally jumped out of bed, threw off her flannelette pyjamas, and opened her wardrobe...

To discover, with a gasp, that the shelf which normally held her maroon regulation school knickers was empty. Empty! She'd just got ten pairs back from the laundry!

Sally's mind raced, but it didn't need to race very far to get to the inevitable conclusion. How stupidly naive she'd been!

Obviously, Jodie McAllister had taken them, sometime during the night (doubtless while Sally was dreaming guiltily of caning her chubby little backside). Sally's guilt turned to a mixture of rage, respect for the girl's resourcefulness, and fear.

The logic was inescapable.

She had no regulation knickers to wear.

It was Friday morning, and there'd almost certainly be a uniform inspection after morning assembly - one was overdue.

She, the Head Girl, would be spanked, and the whole school would know it. They wouldn't see her over the knee, but they'd all know it had happened.

Sally thought of the week she'd spend unable to wear her school tie. She felt sick, and at the same time she needed the toilet.

Here was Jodie's revenge, served ice-cold.

Ignoring for the moment the problem of the knickers, Sally put on the rest of her uniform, making use of what time she did have to neatly arrange her shirt-collar and knot the tie she'd not be wearing for a week. She tucked the tie into the front of her tunic, between her breasts, then edged it back a little, so that the tie stood proud of the crisp shirt-front.

As for knickers, St. Catherine's was a boarding school, so the girls had little need for any clothes other than their school uniform - Sally only had a couple of pairs of white cotton panties, and no choice whatsoever.

She slipped a pair of the white panties under her tunic skirt and over her fat bottom, where they felt comfortable but...wrong. The thick, bottom-hugging maroon uniform knickers were what she was used to, and she missed their presence in the same way that she might miss the unyielding starchiness of the collars of the boys' white school shirts she wore.

Stomach lurching, Sally dashed to the assembly hall, and was one of the last to arrive before the grand entrance of the teachers.

Sally saw Abigail Rice trying to catch her eye. Abigail flipped up her kilt, and Sally caught a brief glimpse of skimpy pink panties. Abigail took hold of her tie-knot and mimed the act of removing her tie. Sally nodded, and both girls managed weak smiles.

The assembly was nothing special: a couple of hymns, some announcements and a short talk by the Headmistress over the sea of plaits, pony-tails, bare knees and maroon uniforms.

At the final announcement...

"Very well! I think we'll just have a quick look at your uniforms, shall we?"

...there were groans of boredom from most girls. Sally and Abigail, despite their expectations, swallowed hard, and blushed visibly.

Miss Grainger, the Headmistress, and Mrs Lapping, the Deputy Head, made their way down from the stage, as the schoolgirls stood, a few hurriedly pulling up their grey knee-socks, or tightening their tie-knots, before placing their hands on their heads, as they were required to do.

Sally watched as the Headmistress traversed the left half of the front row of girls - these were first-formers, the youngest girls in the school - and the Deputy Head took the other half. Not that the uniforms worn by these little girls were in any way different to those worn by the mature, young-womanly upper-sixth-formers who stood - Abigail and Sally among them - at the back of the hall, hands on heads. Their kilts covered the same maroon regulation knickers; their legs were equally bare between skirt-hem and knee-socks; their chests were equally bare beneath the thin cotton of their white shirts. Moving in different directions, the Head and Deputy Head inspected the first-formers' uniforms. Sally was sure it was a sign she was growing older, but to her these eleven-year-olds looked so little. It seemed as if their formal uniforms were wearing them.

Whether naturally obedient, or simply frightened by the idea of a punishment spanking, the first-formers had made sure their uniforms were immaculate.

The teachers reached the ends of the row, and passed behind. At this, each first-former reached down, took hold of the hem of her maroon and grey plaid kilt, lifted the material around to her front, gathering it at her waist.

An unbroken row of maroon-beknickered buttocks was revealed, the pants tight across little bottoms, delineating carefully each cheek. There were obviously no bottom-warmings merited here. At the Head's signal, the kilts were lowered once more, and scrutiny passed to the second-formers.

Sally's heart pounded. At least for Abigail a spanking was no great novelty - Sally knew from conversations that Abigail still had her bare bottom smacked by her mother when she was particularly naughty. Her own experience of such things began and ended with the hand- and hairbrush-walloping she'd endured to get the Head-Girlship - and in the school, only the Head, Abigail and she herself knew about this. At that moment, she would gladly have accepted a spanking of similar severity to avoid being caught without school knickers on - such a juvenile, schoolgirl misdemeanour - and having the whole school know about it.

It seemed that the second-formers had escaped punishment - all buttocks were present, correct, and maroon - until Miss Grainger stopped behind a pair of adjacent girls, her trained eye having noticed something odd.

As if the girls were small infants being taken to the toilet, the Headmistress whisked down both pairs of knickers. In each case, what was exposed was not a pair of twelve-year-old buttocks, however, but a face-flannel, cunningly sandwiched between the outer pants and another pair worn underneath. Miss Grainger took the flannels, and the outer knickers, tucked the girls' kilts into the waistbands at the rear, then propelled the girls towards the front of the hall with a stinging hand-smack to each cheek. The girls stood shamefully, hands on heads, bottoms on parade.

At least, Sally thought, she and Abigail wouldn't be the only ones going over the knee.

As the third-formers' kilts were lifted, Sally was depressingly unsurprised to see that one of the two pairs of non-regulation knickers revealed belonged to her sister Charlotte - Charlie had a talent for naughtiness undiminished by regular bottom-smackings, both at school and at home.

The identity of the other girl came as a huge surprise to Sally - it was Jodie McAllister! - but only for a moment. Sally's eyes met Abigail's, and they both saw Jodie's plan: she intended to see the pair of them spanked, and the only way was to earn a spanking herself. Sally couldn't but feel respect for this single-mindedness, and also the bravery of Jodie's taking another spanking so soon after the blistering Sally had given her.

Charlotte and Jodie, kilts tucked up, took a couple of hearty spanks each, then joined the second-formers at the front.

Inspection of the older girls' uniforms was always more stringent, though normally resulted in fewer sore bottoms. As the girls grew, they seemed to take a mature attitude towards their school uniforms: if they had to wear a uniform, they might as well do it smartly - after all, the whole point of a uniform was to be smart. (Also, quite a few of the older girls positively enjoyed wearing their school uniforms: the freedom from the vagaries of fashion was liberating; having worn uniforms for many years, they were quite at home in a smart collar and tie.) So the senior girls, almost without exception, followed the uniform regulations to the letter. Whether because of this, or because she just expected more from them, Miss Grainger was less tolerant of small deviations from the uniform regulations in older girls. With Sally as her Head Girl - who could always be trusted to set a shining example, with the smartest uniform of all - Miss Grainger rarely had to resort to spankings, however.

On this occasion, inspection of the uniforms of the fourth- formers, fifth-formers and lower-sixth, resulted in only a few admonitory hand-smacks for unbuttoned shirt-collars and clumsily- knotted ties - certainly nothing which merited sterner measures. This having been achieved, the Head and Deputy Head moved to the upper-sixth - usually only a formality. Collars and ties having passed muster, they moved behind the girls.

"Skirts up, ladies!" instructed the Headmistress.

Sally swallowed hard, and closed her eyes, as she heard the swishing of kilts and tunic-skirts - since her purchase of a gymslip in the St. Catherine's tartan, several other sixth-formers had acquired the traditional garments - being lifted. Sally eased her skirt up over her bottom, knowing that her white cotton panties - quite acceptable for school uniform at a great many other schools, but not St. Catherine's - were revealed.

She waited.

A pair of loud cracks of palm on pink panties told her that Abigail was found out, and she heard the girl skitter to the front of the hall. There were a few gasps from the younger girls - a House Captain! Spanked for wearing pink panties!

Then Miss Grainger was behind her. The Head issued a sigh of clear disappointment, and pulled Sally's skirt from her grasp, tucking the fabric into the waist-sash around Sally's gymslip.

There was a long pause, then...

Wallop! Wallop!

Miss Grainger's hand left a smarting imprint on each of Sally's buttocks.

"Get to the front, this instant!"

Utterly humiliated, Sally ran to the front of the hall, trying to ignore the almost-audible sound of jaws dropping. There didn't seem to be any enjoyment of Sally's predicament amongst the girls, just sheer disbelief. For the Head Girl to be caught without regulation knickers was just unheard-of, and one or two first-formers could be excused for wishing to stay just to see what it looked like for an eighteen-year-old senior prefect to get spanked over the Headmistress's lap.

The six errant girls stood quietly, hands on heads, as the rest of the school filed out of the hall, tongues wound up for a good chinwag about what they'd just seen.

Soon all was quiet. There was some moving of chairs, and the girls were told to turn around.

Sitting in straight-backed wooden chairs were the Head and Deputy Head, Miss Grainger to the left.

"Very well," said Miss Grainger. "Are there any excuses you'd like us to hear before we warm your backsides?"

"Please, miss," blurted one of the second-formers. "Our maths prep was just too hard! We spent hours looking at it, but we just knew Miss Payne would give us the ruler, and her eyesight isn't so good, so..."

"I suspected it was something like that," said the Headmistress, indicating the extra knickers and flannels the girls had worn as protection. "That's no excuse, though. Corporal punishment is for your own good, and it's important that you learn to accept spankings when they are seen by teachers to be necessary."

"Yes, miss. Sorry, miss," muttered the girl, hanging her head, knowing that she was in for a pair of spankings in the course of a single morning.

"Anyone else?"

"No, miss," said the other second-former.

"No, miss," said Charlotte Heriot.

"No, miss," said Jodie McAllister.

Sally considered for a moment trying to make some accusation concerning the theft of her knickers, but in all honesty she knew it would seem feeble and immature. Moreover, she was pretty sure that Jodie was smart enough to make sure that Sally would never be able to prove anything.

Also - and Sally didn't have to do a great deal of soul-searching to come to this conclusion - there was a certain sense of justice here. She was aware now that Jodie's spanking earlier that week - whilst necessary - had been excessive, and that Jodie could have caused both her and Abigail a great deal of trouble by reporting the spanking and the way she'd been restrained. As it was, Sally wasn't sure she'd avoid censure when Miss Grainger saw her punishment log.

It was, she felt, in the end, deserved.

"No, miss," said Sally.

"No, miss," said Abigail Rice.

"Blazers off, then!"

The girls removed their blazers, revealing crisp white shirts and - except for Jodie, school ties.

"You two first," said the Headmistress, indicating the two twelve-year-olds. They shuffled forward and were unceremoniously deposited across the teachers' laps, kilts already tucked up, out of the line of fire.

The Deputy Head, Mrs Lapping - a large, jovial woman in her mid-fifties, with a soft, capacious lap, ideal for the nursery position - was a left-handed spanker, so the positioning of the girls meant that they faced each other. In fact, if they'd reached out their hands, they could have touched.

"While we deal with this pair," said Miss Grainger to the others, "you'd better go and fetch some proper uniform knickers. You're not getting spanked over those...those things."

Jodie and Charlotte then both reached into their blazer pockets, and fished out a pair of regulation knickers. Jodie barely suppressed a giggle as Sally and Abigail shuffled their feet.

"Well?" Miss Grainger asked.

"Um..." Sally began, lamely, "I...er...I haven't got any clean pants, miss. They're all in the laundry."

"Well, really! This childish behaviour is not what I've come to expect from you, Sally Heriot."

"No, miss."

"You realise this means a more severe spanking?"

"Yes, miss."

"You too, Abigail?" Miss Grainger asked.

"Yes, miss."

The Headmistress's vexation was almost as obvious as Jodie's glee. Jodie was sure that they'd get spanked on their bare bottoms now - just what she wanted to see.

The second-formers, suspended still across the teachers' knees. waited patiently for their hand-spankings to begin.

"You two," said Miss Grainger, pointing to Jodie and Charlotte, "You can expect an extra dozen for that little bit of cheek." She meant how they'd had regulation knickers secreted in their blazers. Jodie and Charlotte nodded solemnly. "Whilst you two sixth-formers - senior prefects, no less - you can be thankful you're not getting the back of my hairbrush on your bare behinds. You've this pair to thank for that."

Jodie squeaked in surprise.

"Here," said the Headmistress, "put these on." She handed Sally and Abigail the pants she'd taken from the second-formers.

Jodie looked betrayed, and started formulating sentences starting 'But...' Abigail beat her to it.

"But, miss," she said, "we can't wear these! They're too small!"

"You'll put them on or you'll get it on the bare!" warned the Headmistress.

"Yes, miss," Abigail accepted.

"Just two dozen for these young ladies, I think," the Headmistress said to Mrs Lapping. "We mustn't forget they've a rulering to come later today."

And the spankings began. Nothing severe. Just solid hand-smacks on the girls' knicker-seats. The double-spankings resounded around the hall like a very meagre round of applause.

The others dealt with their offending non-regulation pants. Charlotte swapped her lemon-yellow panties (with teddy-bear pattern) for school knickers. Jodie pointed her bottom towards Sally and Abigail, and pulled down the same chocolate-brown knickers that had earned her a spanking from Sally.

Both Sally and Abigail gasped at what they saw. A full two days after being paddled with the hairbrush, Jodie's bottom was a mass of bruising; a riot of sickly green and purple blotches. The message was clear: Jodie was showing the two of them why she'd got them spanked; also, she was showing them that this matter was between the three of them. Showing Miss Grainger those bruises would spell big trouble for Sally and Abigail, but she hadn't done that.

Jodie pulled up her maroon knickers.

Suitably chastened, Sally and Abigail squeezed into the second-formers' knickers. Abigail, though tall, was quite slim, and the pants, though snug, were not too uncomfortable. Sally, though small and boyish, did have rather a fat bottom, and hers were a decidedly tight fit, squashing and flattening her buttocks, which tried to escape in all directions.

The second-formers, flushed and tearful, sore and contrite, were placed back on their feet, and after a little bum-rubbing, they let down their kilts and wiped their eyes.

Charlotte and Jodie were next, and they draped themselves over the knee with nonchalance.

The three-dozen hand-smacks each of received were firm and crisp, but by no means a sound walloping. Nevertheless, on top of the bruising, Jodie must have found them very painful, Sally thought, and she was impressed by Jodie's stoicism. As she was lifted to her feet, Jodie gave her bottom a quick rub, let down her kilt, then walked stiffly, though with dignity, back to the others.

Charlotte, Sally noted, showed no sign of having been spanked at all, besides a slight flushing to her pale face.

And then Miss Grainger was calling Sally and Abigail over for their spankings, and both of the prefects found themselves held firmly across a teacher's knee. Sally, over the Headmistress's lap for the second time, was face-to-face with Abigail, whose long body draped over the lap of the Deputy Head. Abigail's tie dangled towards the floor, rubbing against her chin; Sally's, tucked away inside her tunic, did not.

Faced with only her second spanking, Sally couldn't help making comparisons with the first. The most striking difference was that for the previous spanking she'd been suspended in mid-air across the Headmistress's knee, just like a naughty little girl; here, she could easily touch the floor with her hands and feet. If anything, this was more shaming: she was being punished like a big girl, and the humiliation of a big girl in the nursery position awaiting a childish bottom-smacking was enhanced.

Miss Grainger, left arm clamping Sally in place, considered the bottom on display across her knees.

"Something a little sterner than the hand is required here, I think," she said. "Do any of you girls have a pair of plimsolls handy?"

Jodie responded at once, pulling a pair of the rubber-soled gym-slippers out of her bag. She'd planned for this, and also had available a broad-backed wooden hairbrush and a plastic school ruler. It would be nice to imagine that some of the wear on the soles of her own plimsolls was due to their being used to spank Sally and Abigail's bottoms.

"Thank you, Jodie," said Miss Grainger, as each of the teachers took a plimsoll, and measured it up against a knicker-seat.

The prefects scowled at Jodie. Abigail knew from maternal spankings that a slipper could impart a fierce sting, even through school knickers. Sally could see quite clearly now that her chastisement of the girl had taught her nothing at all. It had revealed Jodie to be resourceful, persistent and brave, but fundamentally without discipline. Sally realised that her mistake had been trying to undo years of bad parenting with a single session over her knee. It was this that had resulted in her bruising and - yes - physically abusing Jodie, and this was the misdemeanour for which she genuinely deserved the slippering she was about to get.

Jodie had many spankings to look forward to. They would be sound, but they'd also be controlled. Lack of control was the naughtiness for which Sally needed to be punished.

There was a crystalline simplicity here, which Sally's mind couldn't but accept: she had been a naughty girl, and she did deserve to be spanked.

Plimsolls met tightly knickered bottoms, with heavy whump!s, and sharp stings. Sally grimaced, and saw Abigail grimace at the same time. It was like watching herself get a slippering in a mirror.

The plimsolls rose and fell, bouncing off alternate buttocks.

And before Sally could even begin to feel chastised, it was over. Two-dozen spanks.

Sally was so taken aback that Miss Grainger had to tell her twice to get up and adjust her uniform. She felt an odd compulsion to shout at the Headmistress: "What are you playing at? That was a spanking for a five-year-old, not an eighteen-year-old, like me! You should have made me cry! It's what I deserved!"

But Sally could see the problem: she'd been spanked for entirely the wrong thing. Her offence was improper use of her Head Girl's corporal punishment responsibility; not the trifling affair of non-regulation knickers. But what could she do about that?

Miss Grainger ordered the girls to remove their school ties, and there was a general unfastening of tie-knots and pulling of ties from shirt-collars. The girls would be tie-less for the next week as evidence of their having received formal disciplinary spankings. Blazers were donned, and Miss Grainger shoo-ed the girls away to their lessons, making sure to remember to inform their teachers for the day that the girls' knickers were to be checked at the start of each lesson.

Two of the girls departed in a state of significant dissatisfaction.

Jodie had hoped - had sincerely believed - that Sally and Abigail would be spanked on their bare bottoms. That this hadn't happened, and that the slipperings had been so...so feeble, was a big disappointment. There was another plan to get them spanked severely, and on the bare - and to see it happen - but it wasn't one she considered lightly, since it meant taking another sound walloping herself. Was it worth it?

Sally just felt a powerful sense of anti-climax, and of injustice. She'd deserved a very sound spanking - had anticipated it - but she hadn't got it. Didn't that make her just like Jodie?

But, despite her dissatisfactions, it did seem to Sally that the matter was finished with. Jodie had been spanked - albeit excessively, and that would be corrected next time. She and Abigail had been spanked - albeit feebly - and this might as well have been for their part in Jodie's punishment.

The confusion of the week had caused Sally to forget something rather important, however.

That afternoon, after lessons were over, she had a few questions for Charlotte, whom she sat down in her study.

"How could you do something so stupid?" Sally asked her sister. "So pointlessly naughty. I ought to turn you over my knee here and now."

Sally knew this was an idle threat, and Charlotte did too. Despite her sister's persistent mischievousness, the Headmistress did not expect Sally to have to spank Charlotte. Sally had, however, sent Charlotte to Miss Grainger's study on many occasions, knowing the girl would re-emerge with a suitably sore bottom. Charlotte, to her credit, seemed to accept sound bottom-smackings as simply an occupational hazard for a teenaged schoolgirl. There was no sulking, no resentment; she just rubbed away the chastising smart, then got on with the next bit of naughtiness.

Sally couldn't help loving her bright, pretty, indomitable sister.

"The thrill of not getting caught, I suppose," said Charlotte, shrugging her shoulders.

"But you did get caught!" Sally said, thoroughly exasperated.

"This time I did."

"You must have realised there'd be a knicker-inspection this morning?"

Charlotte looked at her shoes, chewing her lower lip. Lifting her face, she met Sally's gaze through a long dark fringe.

"Sometimes," said Charlotte, choosing the words carefully - this wasn't something she'd tried to rationalise before, and she was quite aware of how difficult it was - "Sometimes it's the thrill of getting caught."

Sally frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, you'd never understand; you're always such a good girl," Charlotte said.

"Not always," reflected Sally. "Anyway, try to tell me."

"There's no thrill in being naughty," Charlotte began, "unless there's a chance of being caught, and punished. It won't feel like there's a chance of being punished unless it sometimes happens." Charlotte paused. "Sometimes I need a spanking to show me exactly how far I can can go."

Sally tried to follow this. "And you'll deliberately get yourself into trouble, to get a spanking?"

"Sometimes. Like today. Just now I need a spanking."

"Need-ed, surely," corrected Sally. "You got a slippering this morning."

"Oh, that was just a tickle," said Charlotte dismissively. "I'm talking about a proper spanking. From Daddy, when he comes tomorrow."

Sally's heart leapt at this. How could she have forgotten that their wonderful father was coming to visit his daughters the following day? She longed to see him. There was always so much to talk about.

She was bothered by what Charlotte had said, however, and tried to put this into words.

"But you don't..." she stumbled. "...you don't like being spanked, do you?"

Charlotte snorted. "No! Of course not! It hurts like hell when Daddy spanks me, and it's so humiliating to be put over his knee like a little kid, and have my pants taken down. It's just that..."

"What," asked Sally, genuinely intrigued.

"Well," Charlotte continued, "when it's all over, and I've been soundly punished, Daddy hugs me so tightly, and tells me that everything's forgiven, and I feel so...so clean, as if all the naughtiness in the world has been spanked out of me." Charlotte giggled, breaking the tension. "Sal, I'm really not sure the feeling would be so good if I hadn't been put over his knee, or if my pants hadn't been taken down, or if I hadn't been punished really soundly. The hurt is part of it, and the humiliation's part of it too."

Sally couldn't help recalling her odd sense of dissatisfaction after her slippering that morning.

"But then," added Charlotte, as an afterthought, "you'll find out all about that tomorrow."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. We'll both be spending some time bare-bottomed across Daddy's knee tomorrow, after this morning."

Sally's mouth dried. She nervously ran a finger inside her stiff, buttoned-up shirt-collar.

"But...but...it wasn't my fault! He'll see that I didn't do it on purpose!"

"You know haw it is, Sal," said Charlotte. "If we get spanked at school, we get another spanking from Daddy. Or, at least, I do. I guess this'll be your first time. No excuses, Sal. We both got caught."

Sally tried to think clearly, but her mind was gripped by a five-year-old's blind panic at the thought of going over her father's knee for a smacked-bottom. Surely if she explained the circumstances of the slippering, he'd realise that she hadn't really been such a naughty girl. Surely she could convince him that she didn't deserve a paternal spanking.

But Sally knew that she would not be able to convince him. She'd been spanked by the Headmistress, and that was enough. He'd explain patiently, but sternly, that she'd let both herself and her parents down, and his displeasure would reduce Sally to a sobbing wreck even before he'd placed her across his knee, carefully raised her gym-tunic skirt, taken down her knickers, and begun to administer his eighteen-year-old daughter's first fatherly bare-bottom spanking.

Sally was pale and shivery, and Charlotte couldn't help but notice her sister's discomfort.

"Come on, Sal," she consoled, "it's not so bad. Sure, it's pretty painful for ten minutes, and you'll have a sore bum for a day or two, but in the end it's just a spanking."

"I'm afraid, Charlie," Sally said, very quietly, very simply. "I have to find some way of proving to Miss Grainger that Jodie took my uniform knickers."

It was the only way. Even if Sally could somehow keep her father away from the Headmistress, he'd see her tie-less collar, and he'd know she'd had a spanking; she'd never get away with wearing a different tie - some little sneak was bound to notice, and get her into even more trouble.

"Jodie?"

"I gave her a very hard spanking with the hairbrush on the bare on Tuesday. Too hard."

"Ah. She's been awfully quiet since then, and I did notice she wasn't wearing her tie."

"Only it turned out," Sally continued, "that it was her very first spanking, and she didn't like it one little bit. She put up a lot of resistance, and..."

"And?" Charlotte was intrigued.

"Well..." Sally continued, meekly. "Abigail and I had to restrain her, so she'd lie still."

"What did you do?" Charlotte was agog.

"We...we tied her wrists and ankles with our school ties."

Charlotte gasped. "So that's why Abigail got the slipper too. Blimey! I can see why Jodie might have wanted revenge."

"She needed it, Charlie," said Sally. "It got out of hand, but she's a bad kid, and she really did have it coming."

"I won't argue with that. She's been a real pain ever since she moved into the dorm."

"Will you help me prove she took my knickers?" Sally asked.

"Sure," Charlotte replied immediately. "How?"

Sally had an idea. She rummaged around in her desk drawer, and shortly pulled out a small Dictaphone her father had given her to help with her studies.

"Maybe you can get a taped confession," Sally suggested.

"Hardly!" Charlotte scoffed. "It's not as if it's a big secret that we're sisters."

Sally sighed. Charlotte, however, had the inklings of a neat plan.

"Perhaps," explained Charlotte, thinking aloud, "she'd be only too eager to tell me she did it if she thought I hated you."

"But why would she think that?"

"She might if she saw you giving me a spanking for some trivial little thing."

"Oh, don't be daft, Charlie," said Sally. "I'm not about to give you a spanking!"

"But it doesn't have to be real," Charlotte insisted. "It just needs to convince her."

Sally thought carefully about this. If she could get a confession from Jodie, she'd be able to persuade the Headmistress that the knicker-inspection slippering had been unjustified. If she could do that, she might be able to get her school tie back neatly underneath her shirt-collar before her father arrived. She might - might - be able to avoid her Daddy's strict discipline yet. She'd have to be careful, mind. If Miss Grainger wanted to chastise Jodie for the theft, her bruising hairbrushing would certainly come to light, and Sally would be in even greater trouble. Not for the last time, Sally wished she'd never seen Jodie McAllister.

Sally looked solemnly at her sister.

"Would you really do that, just to get me out of a spanking from Daddy?"

"Of course I would, Sal," Charlotte said. "You're my sister."

The schoolgirl sisters hugged.

[continued in part 2/2. . .]

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