Angela was an even red all over

It was about a month after my caning and my A Level History teacher was getting frustrated with my grades. My best so far that term had been a C minus. She told me that a C plus average would be OK, if not very inspiring, but D minus was not going to cut it.

I told David Ashley this and we had a really good chat, not only that, as he himself was a history teacher, he made the Tudors and Stuarts come alive for me. We talked about my latest essay on the Elizabethan settlement of the Church of England. About why Elizabeth I could not embrace Rome and why some Catholics could not accept her as the rightful monarch, it all seemed so clear to me the way he described it.

However, when I came to do my essay, I could not remember what an Erastian settlement was, or the exact provisions of the Henrician reforms. Consequently, I only got an E. My teacher wasn’t pleased but she didn’t seem to expect to much of me anyway.

Mr Ashley was kind but rather sterner about the whole thing. He kept me behind after school and we sat down and went through it all again. Afterwards I had some great notes and I knew that I could write a better essay.

On the way home I met a boy who had been in my year but had now left school. I was in a good mood so I went for a coffee with him. Coffee turned into a drink and before I knew it, it was 10 o’clock and I hadn’t even started my essay. My parents were furious and just to round the evening off I had left my notes on the bus.

By working break and my lunch hour, I managed to finish something and asked my history teacher to have another look. I thought it was quite good, although disappointed that I would probably drop at least a grade because I rushed it and lost my notes. I got a D minus.

David Ashley was furious. I cried when he told me that he was wasting his time. Then I told him about the boy and the lost notes. He lightened up a bit.

“Oh a boy. Now it all becomes clear.” He actually smiled. “Life would be so much easier if the human race could finish its studies before puberty.”

I was about to apologise and asked for one more chance when he stood up and opened a draw in his desk. He took out a worn old plimsoll that I knew was known as the slipper. I gulped.

“Witness?” He asked. “Or do you want to withdraw consent?”

I shook my head and blushed.

“Bend over and raise your skirt.” He ordered.

I did, realising that it was not only very embarrassing but actually an awkward position to hold. I had seen girls get the slipper occasionally from the games mistress, but not since the fourth form and they were usually half-hearted affairs.

Therefore, the sudden blazing across my bottom and the resounding loud swat was a shock. I gasped just in time for the second swat.

“That’s right just breath and hold position. If I have to put you over the desk then it is six of the best.” He said cheerfully.

I knew he meant the cane.

It was a respectable spanking and I was dewy eyed by the time he was done. As the word spanking crossed my mind, I blushed even more and had a strange feeling. It was also quite a long spanking and I had the sense that its duration was based upon my response not upon any set number of swats.

Once he finally let me up my hands went to my bottom and I danced around the room.

“I have a feeling we won’t be forgetting this for awhile.” He said.

Once I pulled myself together, he indicated I should sit down, no mean feat, and we went over my essay again.

“Are you going to lose your notes this time?” He grinned.

“I don’t think so sir.” I smiled back.

“You had better not, if you don’t get an A this time I’ll give you another spanking and one stroke of the cane for every grade you fall below.” He said sternly. “So I THINK, you had really better not.”

I blushed and the smile was wiped from my face.

After I left his room, I went to the cloakroom and put the heavy waste paper basket in front of the door so I could inspect the damage without being interrupted. My bottom was a nice even red all over and very slightly swollen. It was very strange just looking at it and I could not resist looking again when I got home. I sat down, enjoying the soreness where my bottom touched the seat and tried for the third time to do my essay.

I kept thinking if I don’t get an A, I will get another spanking and the cane as well. That would have been terrible, wouldn’t it, I thought?

My history teacher didn’t want to mark my essay again and said that the exams were what counted and for me to concentrate on my next essay. David Ashley was more understanding and marked it himself. I got an A minus, the best grade I had ever got.

I was blushing furiously when he told me, he had promised me another spanking and one stroke of the cane.

“If I hadn’t marked this myself you might have something to worry about, but I almost never give A, so A minus is pretty good.” He was smiling more than usual. “Do you think you can keep this up he asked?”

We spent an hour going over my next set essay, although if I was honest I was almost disappointed that he hadn’t spanked me.

To be continued.