All Things Nice

Story from Schoolgirl Spanking Vol.1 Issue 1.

All Things Nice
by Claire Short

Every woman has a Summer: a period when the sun shines every day, all the songs in the charts seem to have been written especially for her and she knows for the first time the magic and power she possesses simply because she is alive and female.

Sonia recently had her Summer. She shared it with Lorraine and Annette at their exclusive South-coast boarding school.

Once their sixteenth birthdays were reached, they launched themselves on a wild exploration of the opportunities suddenly presented.

Lorraine quickly developed a taste for men from the lower strata of society. She craved the touch of calloused hands, rippled with pleasure at the sound of dropped consonants and elongated vowels and an illegal occupation made her drool. Had she been less sophisticated, all kinds of unflattering epithets would have been hurled at this girl and her natural curiosity would have been open to abuse. As it was, she was treated with respect because of her unadulterated Anglo-Saxon colouring and her precise speech. She was a toff and they were rough trade and both parties loved the arrangement.

Annette was less free with her favours, preferring the gentle gradual flowering of intimacy with the ex-military gentleman who ran the town's exclusive second-hand bookstore. He boasted that he could procure any volume a client might require and over the years this had built into steady demand for some rather esoteric adult literature. When the shades were drawn at the end of the day's trading, Annette's thighs opened for him, her unashamed lust begging to be satiated with the gift of his experience.

And Sonia? Sonia roamed the back streets of the sleepy town, noticing the sleazier activities of its residents and visitors. She watched men dialling numbers left in 'phone booths; she stationed herself opposite doorways belonging to "Monique, Model, First Floor" and she tailed newly-formed couples making their way to rooms rented by the hour with unwashed sheets on the waiting beds.

One day she was approached by a foreign executive who demonstrated the reclining leather upholstery of his hired car in a deserted country lane. The encounter was lucrative rather than satisfactory, but it proved as addictive as any of the snorting, shooting or smoking activities they had been warned about at school.

Three girls taking their different routes into womanhood, united by season. A disused outbuilding was made into a den furnished with oddments from their dormitory. They lazed on cushions and pillows, using the one upright chair as a table for their cans of drink and the radio permanently tuned to the local pop station. It was cosy and the atmosphere lent itself to intimate confessions. Girls who grew up together have few secrets and even fewer inhibitions and their anecdotes led on more than one occasion to re-enactments of the tricks their lovers had taught them.

Of course, it could only be a matter of time before they were discovered.

* * *

Alison Gray was just completing her probationary year as a teacher of History and Computer Science and needed somewhere quiet to write her end of term reports. She didn't know about the outbuildings, but once she spotted it on the other side of the copse, she went to investigate and a broken window gave her a clear view of her pupils.

To say she was shocked would not be wholly accurate. Being only in her early twenties and having attended a similar school herself just a few years previously, she knew what went on. She realised, though, that her status as a teacher meant she had to deal with the situation responsibly.

The girls were completely caught up in their tales, overlapping and interrupting one another as they demonstrated the way a garment had been removed or a limb caressed. Girls growing up in close proximity are not shy with one another and they eyed and touched one another without embarrassment. Their uniforms were dischevelled and their faces flushed as their descriptions became more graphic.

Sonia lay with her legs spread wide, revealing the lacy tops of her hold-up stockings. Not exactly regulation wear, but not directly forbidden, the shiny black sheaths exactly matched the gossamer lace panties that did, most definitely, contravene the rules. Her tie was askew and the buttons on her crisp cotton shirt were undone to expose the black lacy bra that was in any case clearly visible through the white fabric. Her pleated skirt was rucked around her waist, allowing her hand to slowly caress the small band of exposed flesh between stocking tops and pants. Despite her carefully curled hair and make-up, her eyes and mouth retained the innocence of youth – a heady mixture that ensured her popularity when she went on the prowling trips around town.

Lorraine was propped up with her back to the wall. Her legs and feet were bare and the sleeves of her neat blouse were rolled above her elbows. A natural sun-worshipper, she had taken care to acquire a slow mellow tan that set off her blue eyes and long blonde hair. Her tie was discarded and she had the top few buttons of her blouse open to reveal the start of her pleasing cleavage. The epitome of the English Rose, wholesome and inviting.

And then there was Annette. Slightly plumper than her playmates, less well-formed, her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and her eyes shone with laughter. Her white knee socks were neatly in place and even her black shoes were laced correctly. Of the three, she was the most conventional "Schoolgirl", although the things she was saying scarcely matched her image.

'I just felt there should have been a bit more,' she was complaining. 'I mean, it's good, honestly it is,' (none of them would ever admit to any experience being less than "good" and ideally it should be "incredible" or even "divine") 'but it's like I'm there and it's perfect and intense and it just goes away and then he's looking at me all expectantly and I don't know what to say.' Lorraine cooed sympathetically and they both looked at Sonia for the wisdom her wider experience accorded her.

She paused in her silent self-exploration and rolled languidly on to her tummy. As though seeking to aid her concentration before speaking, she licked slowly along Annette's upper leg, her tongue gently probing at the fleecy fabric of the traditional navy knickers.

'I don't think men realise what it's like for girls. They mistake the beginning for the whole thing,' she opined sagely, using a finger to pull aside the soft material and gently massage the moist fleshy folds beneath. Annette moaned deliriously and they all recognised the beginning of her pleasure. She lay back and reached up to squeeze Lorraine's neat breasts, gradually manipulating the buttons of her blouse and releasing the clasp at the front of her sensible white brassiere. Lorraine bent forward, letting the nipples tease Annette's pouting lips.

None of them heard the approach of Alison Gray; Miss Gray who taught them History and Computer Studies and belonged to the world of over-the-hill adults. With their eyes closed in private passions, they did not see her coming closer, her face a mixture of surprise, intrigue and worry, unsure of how to act. If she went for support, the girls would possibly be gone by the time she returned. If she confronted them, they might become abusive (and they did, after all, outnumber her). She gazed down at the orgy in progress, trying to decide what to do.

Annette's white socks settled on to Sonia's shoulders as her lover knelt and performed her ministrations with pleasure and without haste, Lorraine was fingering herself in time with the licking and sucking bestowed upon the pale nipples by Annette. Sonia's bottom was high in the air as she bent to her task, her rumpled skirt forming a dark halo around her nether regions.

Silently, Alison Gray removed the soft leather pump from her right foot and brought its sole down sharply on the lace-bedecked posterior. There was no immediate response from her victim, so she swung her arm in a wide arc and delivered a second blow, lower this time, on the naked skin above the stocking top of Sonia's left leg.

Sonia had absorbed the impact of the first slap before she realised that it was nothing to do with the current activity. By the time she had been struck again she was aware of somebody else being with the group who shouldn't be there. Her right thigh had been assaulted before she could disengage her mouth from its loving labours and respond.

Three voices were raised in simultaneous protest; Alison Gray began a tirade about loose morals and indecent behaviour; Sonia protested at the physical assault being meted out to her body and Annette howled with rage as Sonia's attentions suddenly ceased. Before Lorraine could add her own complaint she looked up and saw the pretty young teacher scowling down at them.

'Stand up all of you,' she raged. 'What do you think you are doing? I'm taking you directly to Dr Winters office.' Suddenly she felt unable to deal with the situation herself and it seemed sufficiently grave to warrant the intervention of the Head. Annette and Lorraine were dumbstruck, but desperation made Sonia bold and she stepped forward to face the teacher.

'Please don't report us, Miss Gray,' she begged. 'We'll be expelled and we're all planning to stay on next year. It would ruin everything. It was just fun, it won't happen again. We're sorry.' The strong light from the doorway behind the teacher made it difficult to read the expression on her face. 'Look, we'll do anything you say. Detentions, lines, wash your car...'

'Quiet!' Alison Gray barked. She wanted time to think. She was reluctant to go to the Head if for no other reason than that she was embarrassed to think of having to describe what she had witnessed. On the other hand, she couldn't let the girls get away with it. She looked steadily at each of them speaking slowly and deliberately.

'Right, I'm sure you realise how silly you have been. But you must also see that I cannot simply ignore what I saw. You deserve a harsh punishment, but I can see that expulsion – which would be the only option open to Dr Winters – could ruin your education careers.' She paused. 'The only alternative I am prepared to entertain is that I deal with you myself here and now and we say nothing more about it. There will be no negotiations, you will accept my punishment and today's activities will never be repeated.'

Sonia, Lorraine and Annette looked at each other, silently acknowledging that they had no choice and mumbled their assent.

'Wait here,' they were told and none of them even considered disobeying.

When Alison Gray returned she was carrying a bundle of long supple twigs gathered from the ground. She used the band that held her hair in place to tie them together and brandished the rude implement in front of the girls.

'You will each receive six strokes from this birch. It will be exceedingly painful and you will be marked for several days. This is your last chance to refuse this punishment and the alternative is an immediate interview with the Head – and you know what she will do.'

'I'll take your punishment,' Annette volunteered. She stepped forward and followed Miss Gray's instructions to bend over the chair back and rest her arms on the seat. She tucked her skirt into its waistband and waited with her legs straight and her buttocks thrust jauntily out.

The first blow landed on the thick fabric of her knickers, but even so its impact drew a long gasp of shock from her. The second one landed lower, partly grazing the naked flesh of her thighs and this time she uttered a deep throaty growl.

The third one cut low on the backs of her legs. Through the sharp pain she realised with horror that there was a good chance its marks would be visible below the hemline and began to sob with shame. Her tears brought a lump of pity to her teacher's throat, but the punishment had to be delivered in full.

A hand tugged at the waist of her sensible briefs, dragging them high and tight into the cleft between her bottom cheeks. Now the trajectory of the birch was foreshortened but its sibilant hiss was as loud as ever and its jagged nips bit into the ample flesh like a score of electric shocks. By now she was sobbing uncontrollably and was oblivious to the attack from the final two blows. Even when it was over, she remained in position until her friends guided her gently to the pile of cushions and helped her lie down on their welcoming softness.

'So, who is to be next?' the teacher asked with convincing sincerity.

'Me.' Lorraine felt she had to volunteer before her courage completely failed her. She could not trust herself to witness the flogging of her other friend and still be able to undergo her own chastisement.

She stepped forward and took up her position over the chairback. Alison Gray raised the uniform skirt and yanked down her prim white panties to her knees. Without prevarication the vicious twigs swept thought the air and bit deeply into the tender skin of the proffered rear.

Annette was too preoccupied with her own wounds to take any interest in her friend's sufferings, but Sonia watched with fascination as the prescribed six strokes were delivered.

Lorraine was determined not to cry out, but silent tears coursed down her pretty cheeks as the wicked wand punished her with merciless efficiency. When it was over she flopped mutely next to Annette, struggling to remain composed as Sonia stepped forward to be dealt with.

The teacher was feeling confident about her actions now. She knew the punishment she was meting out was effective and had no fears that her career would not be endangered by complaints from any of these girls. She ordered Sonia to remove her skirt completely, but to retain the rule-flouting flimsies. Three distinct pink marks were already evident from the spanks she had received from the teacher's shoe and the first swipe from the budded twigs spattered them with mauve flecks. The second brought Sonia to her toes and before she could sink back the third had her slumped over the chair, panting as though she had just completed a 100 metres sprint.

The areas between her briefs and stocking tops was a mass of light red tracery and purple dots and her skin twitched convulsively.

The fourth swipe made her scream aloud, feet drumming on the wooden floor, white knuckles grasping the edge of the seat.

The fifth tore the flimsy fabric of her panties, the rents in the wispy nylon highlighting the red hue they had half-concealed. Sonia's gyrations caused one of her stockings to roll down and by the time the final blow fell, she had lost all vestiges of dignity and howled without restraint.

Alison Gray left, saying nothing.

In their hideaway the three miscreants huddled together like a litter of newborn puppies, gentle fingers trying to sooth the heat from one another's scorched buttocks but only succeeding in exacerbating the pain. They had no energy to talk, but knew they shared common worries of repurcussions. Would Miss Gray really let the matter rest?

Eventually they made themselves as presentable as possible and returned to school. Apart from a few sidelong glances from the History Mistress there were no further references to that fateful day.

And, in time, the memory of the pain faded and blended into other more pleasant recollections of music and sex and new powers that came their way that Summer.

THE END

Dirty Tricks

Story from Schoolgirl Spanking Vol.1 Issue 1.

Dirty Tricks
by J. R. Hartley

The two boys - "young men", as they were constantly being told they were - both looked resentfully across at the direct cause of their strife. Each was reacting differently in a physical way, but there was no mistaking the anger and desire for revenge emanating from them.

Andrew Davies, the taller of the two, brown-haired, dark-eyed and unmistakably athletic, glowered openly, his thin lips and strong jaw set to exact retribution. He had taken his punishment stoically, refusing to cry out even through the six stinging swipes he had taken from the cane were about the harshest he had ever received. He had simply braced himself, grasped the wall-bars as instructed and chanted silently to himself, 'I'll make them pay; I'll make them pay.'

And that was his intention.

William Fowles on the other hand, whilst just as anxious for revenge, was visibly more affected by his recent ordeal. His blond hair was matted with sweat and his eyes had a humanising sheen of threatened tears that was emphasised by the slight tremble of his full poetic mouth. He had not been so brave and his howl of pain and attempt to place his right hand between his buttock and the vicious rod had earned him two extra stingers on his palms.

The girls had watched in slack-jawed amazement at a scene they thought belonged strictly in the realm of television classic serials about Victorian education. Neither of them had ever seen a real cane, let alone witnessed its application. They were stunned by the meek acceptance of their fate by the youths and the ritualistic way they had gone to don sports shorts and vests to receive their punishment. They knew of nobody in their circle of friends who would have agreed to undergo such treatment, especially as the Master who had meted out the flogging was only of slight stature and either William or Andrew could easily have flattened him with one blow!

Don Buxton stood in silent contemplation of the four miscreants adding to the unease of the girls and the humiliation of the boys. He didn't regard himself as overly severe in his dealings with young people, but he did believe firmly in the use of corporal punishment, when the occasion merited it. And this was most certainly one of those occasions!

He had happened upon the four in that clichéd haunt of naughty schoolchildren, the back of the bicycle sheds, performing some rather adult acts. Of course, it was the girls who instigated it, and not for the first time it seemed. Apparently, Saturday jobs in chain stores were not as lucrative as the relief of sexual frustrations experienced by healthy young males in residential educational establishments. There was a word for girls of their type and he had used it, loudly and liberally, as he frogmarched them and their erstwhile clients into the gym.

His first inclination had been to telephone the local comprehensive to inform the Head of her girls' extra-curricular activities, but one look at the ludicrous excuse of a uniform and the fact that they had been plying their trade at his school for some considerable time made him think twice. He would show them what discipline was in a proper school.

So they had stood in the gym in embarrassed defiance, hearing themselves described in terms even their roughest friends would not have used in mixed company, listening to the boys being reminded of the school's expectations of them and then watching their punishment being administered. It was made clear that it was not just their actions that were wrong, it was their class. Had the females in the dalliance been from the Girls' Academy on the other side of the county, it seemed the matter would not have been so grave. Indeed, if the instigators had been other boys in the school it would apparently have been less heinous. The crime was to have been caught in the act with girls of lowly origin.

The gym master watched them watching each other, seeing the realisation of the true nature of their felony.

'And now, men' he said, finally breaking the silence, 'you have had time to contemplate your mistake, you have taken your punishment and it remains only to deal with the instigators of this afternoon's debacle before we can put the episode behind us and move on.' He paused and as if at an unseen signal, the boys stepped aside so their Master could wheel vaulting horses across the room.

'Of course,' he continued conversationally, 'you are curious about the female of the species, that's only natural. And, as the only women you usually encounter during term time are Matron and the cleaners, it is just as natural that when a couple of sluts from the local comprehensive throw themselves at you, you will take advantage of their offers. Any red-blooded male would behave in exactly the same way.'

The boys were almost preening themselves in the glory of their vindication, their eyes flashing scorn at the would-be Jezebels.

'So, as they're so keen to augment our sex education programme, we'll let them do exactly that. As well as seeing that they are appropriately punished for their wanton behaviour.' He addressed the girls directly for the first time: 'Strip'.

The two stared at him, blinking in almost-comic unison, then turned to gaze in silent amazement at each other. Shelley Morris and Kim Noble were not what the gutter press would describe as 'stunnas', but they were both attractive enough in an off-hand, artless kind of way. Shelley was a few inches taller than her friend and had a clear-skinned, well-proportioned comeliness. Her dark-blonde hair sported highlights that had obviously been acquired in someone's bathroom not too recently and with black mascara being the only cosmetic she wore, she had the look of a rather startled panda about her. She had hazel eyes and a pouting mouth with sharp, even little teeth that flashed whenever she smiled or spoke. Her token uniform of black skirt and white blouse was clean enough, although a little rumpled from her earlier activities. The skirt was stretched tightly across her flat stomach and rounded bottom and long, lightly tanned legs tapered into the ubiquitous uniform of youth, namely baggy socks and outsize training boots with the laces deliberately undone.

Her friend was almost too thin, with a salon perm of dark corkscrew curls framing her elfin face. Everything about her seemed small and frail, until she spoke with her loud, abrasive local twang. Despite the warm weather, she sported a heavy black cardigan, longer at the front where she had made it sag with her habit of thrusting her hands deep in her pockets. She, too, wore the dirty white footwear favoured by that generation and, like her friend, she toted her schoolbooks around in a pastel leather sports bag.

Shelley and Kim, femmes fatales, were very worried. Kim spoke for the first time since they had been caught out. 'Get lost,' she spat, 'you can't tell us to take our clothes off in front of them.'

'Young woman, I can do a lot more than that' the Master replied ominously. 'The time for modesty has passed. You were willing enough to expose yourselves and indulge in all kinds of intimacies before. At least you're indoors and in relative comfort. I say again,' and he let his glance take in Shelley as well, 'strip'.

Kim removed her cardigan, then made a great show of folding it and placing it on her bag. Then both girls stood silently motionless once more, trying to decide whether they should obey the instruction or not. The boys were watching them keenly and the teacher rocked slowly on his plimsoll-shod feet, tapping the cane gently against his calf.

Shelley undid the buttons on the cuffs of her shirt, then kept her eyes firmly on the floor as she unfastened those down the front. Kim started to do the same as her friend threw her blouse defiantly on the ground.

With a similar time-delay they removed their skirts and chucked them aside and then paused once more as they tried to decide which undergarment to remove first. Kim's small, barely perceptible breasts were sheathed in a cotton cropped-top decorated with tiny pink hearts. She wore matching panties and the ensemble gave her a misleading air of wholesome innocence. She slipped her thumbs in the hem of the top, then changed her mind and began to remove her briefs. Again she paused, hoping for some kind of instruction.

Shelley shared her predicament, but was determined not to give Don Buxton the satisfaction of exacerbating their embarrassment. She reached behind her and deftly unclasped the single hook of her wispy white bra. She was well-rounded without being heavy, and the bra was obviously for modesty or show rather than support. She flicked the garment off and swung it in a wide circle over her head before letting it fly into the far corner of the cavernous room.

Being slightly in awe of her friends more generous proportions, Kim opted to reveal her lower parts before her insignificant bumps. She yanked down her knickers then hopped about clumsily as she manoeuvred the small garment over the clumpy shoes. Shelley did a similar lurching dance as she removed her own panties while Kim finally bared the large pink aureolas surrounding the pinprick nipples that were all that constituted her breasts.

Neither of them thought to remove their footwear, as though the large leather appendages were welded to them. Don Buxton decided he rather liked the effect and did not force them to take them off. They lent a pathetic air to the otherwise debauched minxes and almost evinced a hint of sympathy from him.

'Right then,' he said to the enraptured boys, 'let's see what it's all about shall we?' He turned to Shelley. 'Come on, Blondie, pop yourself up here so we can get a good view.'

He had her straddle the horse at the square end, her back resting against one of the handles and her feet drawn up and resting on the very edge of the contraption. Roughly he pulled her bent knees apart so that the suede surface stroked her roughly as she adjusted her position. Her hands gripped the sides to stop her slipping.

'And you,' he told Kim, can you rest your pretty little form along here.' He had her stand where the horse sloped down, grasping the handle closest to her and resting her naked belly along the incline. She felt her ankles being grasped and spread wide apart and then rough, stubby hands tugged at her hips so that her bottom jutted out away from the horse and just her upper torso, chest and chin touching the worn nap.

'Come along then, lads, feast your eyes,' he bawled jovially. Andrew and William advanced warily but the Gym Master continued to encourage them with words and gestures as though he were auditioning for a holiday job as a fairground barker. In a no-nonsense businesslike way he led them around the horse, stopping by each girl in turn and drawing attention to their skin, their hair, their buttocks and genitals. Just as he had earlier spoken crudely of their morals, so now he verbally attacked their bodies. Roughly he manhandled them, exposing their intimate budding feminine folds, pinching and slapping at the flesh of their buttocks and insolently tweaking their soft breasts.

At first the boys were embarrassed, but the locker-room language and total antipathy he showed the girls lulled them into showing at least an academic interest. At his urging they too probed at the moist receses now fully open to them instead of encumbered by clothing. Rod Buxton watched them getting more involved in their pleasures and judged when the time was right to move on.

'So now you know what you were groping after outside, why don't you show the young "ladies" what you think of teasing little slags who try to exploit their betters?'

He passed his cane to Andrew and said sarcastically, 'Choose your partner.'

Kim's behind was already proffered, but it was Shelley who had got him into this situation so he grabbed her ankles and tipped her over so that she was lying over the width of the horse. He gave her feet another shove so that she hung head low, feet barely skimming the floor. He drew back the cane and brought it down loudly and heavily across the full expanse of her bottom cheeks.

Nothing she had ever seen, heard or felt could have prepared her for that moment of impact. Unable to get off her perch, she arched her back and swung her arms and legs in wide arcs, screeching on a long intake of breath. Andrew looked at his teacher, reluctant to stop but worried about the girl's capacity to take the kind of punishment that was routine at his establishment. Kim made a move to go to her friend, but Rod Buxton placed a restraining hand on her back. Smiling reassuringly at his star pupil he told him to continue. 'If the girlies want to play our games, they must be willing to pay our forfeits,' he said matter-of-factly.

Andrew needed no further bidding. A long parabolic curve brought the weighty rod down hard and flat across the small of Shelley's back. The impact knocked the breath from her and a deep mulberry bruise line began to emerge immediately.

His next swipe came in low from a long way back. It caught the tender flesh enfolded between bottom cheek and thigh. Her whole body juddered and she emitted a series of high-pitched yelps like a scalded puppy.

The fourth and fifth cuts came in rapid succession, crossing diagonally, reducing Shelley to helpless, choking sobs. Her skin was coated with a fine film of perspiration, rendering it even more vulnerable to the cruel sixth bite. It came close to the first, a pale mauve weal that would soon reproduce the maroon tramlines that its predecessor now sported. Shelley had lost count of the number of strokes being delivered but Andrew had automatically stopped after the sixth and in truth was full of admiration for the way she had received them. Admittedly she had bawled but, after all, she was a girl and it was obviously the first time she had received a flogging.

He passed the cane to William who took careful aim before scoring Kim's rump with a scalding streak that drew a crimson stripe the moment it touched her lean flesh.

'NO!' she screeched. 'No! No, I can't. I really, really can't take it.' She leapt up and rubbed at her barely-fleshed behind. 'I can't,' she reitereated and burst into a torrent of tears.

William was dumbfounded and searched the faces of the other three for guidance. In an instant the Gym Master had loosened and removed one of his own plimsoles and passed it to the puzzled boy.

'She may not be able to take the cane, but she's not getting away with her whorish tricks. Use this.'

He grabbed Kim's slender wrists and held them in place on the horse's handle while William took aim. Kim continued to bawl, which he found somewhat off-putting, so he quickly delivered six stinging swipes with the rubber-soled shoe, putting an end to the girl's ordeal and his own unease. The noise reverberated around the high-ceilinged hall and produced a strange almost mystical harmony with Kim's sobs. When it was over, the males left them alone to dress and leave in their own time. They could hear the deep baritone banter coming from the changing room and knew it was about them and somehow, that was even worse than the physical pain they had endured.

THE END