Angela’s story: a punishment deserved

I had never been spanked over someone's knee before

I had never been spanked over someone's knee before

If you haven’t been following Angela’s adventures the story starts here. Thanks for the positive feedback so far on this series.

My grades picked up quite a bit after that. My English and history grades anyway. Politics, which had been my best subject, still suffered a little, but even here I was getting a C average. As a consequence I got a little complacent. So much so that when a small group decided to skip the afternoon study period to go and see the Lurkers, I decided to join them.

I told my parents that I was going to stay at Alice’s for an extensive study period at her house and of course, she told her parents the same. My grades had greatly improved so they believed me.

So far no problem, then Baxter’s van broke down on the way back. At three in the morning we still had not fixed it and we were a long way from home. In the end Baxter phoned his dad.

Baxter’s dad was understanding enough, Baxter had real permission and I think his dad quite liked proving he still had his uses. However, it was gone six in the morning by the time we got home. Who’s home Mr Baxter wanted to know? He caught on straight away from the way Alice and I exchanged looks.

“Better stay at our place, well for breakfast anyway, not much time for sleep.” He said graciously enough.

Baxter had no lessons the next day and as long as he hit the books that afternoon, his dad was quite laid back. I had a history lesson. Mr Baxter gave me an old fashioned look.

“I had better drive you.” He growled. “I ought to tell your parents really.”

He didn’t. But he did tell Mr Ashley.

“What were you thinking?” Mr Ashley said when I was on the carpet.

“It was the Lurkers.” I said lamely.

“And these are for shirkers.” He smiled at his own weak joke as he produced the plimsoll and the cane. “I’ll be telephoning Alice’s parents. I assume you want me to deal with you?”

I bit my lower lip and nodded.

“Assume the position.” He said picking up the plimsoll.

I bent over as before and lifted up my skirt. He wasted no time.

“This is to keep you focused this afternoon in case you feel sleepy.” He said.

My bottom blazed. He did not give me time to recover and let go with another spank. I yelped with an embarrassing little squeak. I could tell he was cross. The spanking continued and so did my protests.

I was soon weeping but he showed no sign of letting up. I was getting a sound spanking this time. I jumped up and clutched my bottom.

“Please sir no more.” I sobbed.

He pulled me towards him and sat down and I fell across his knee. I had never been over anyone’s knee for a spanking before.

“You deserve this don’t you?” He said softly.

“Yes sir, sorry sir, but it hurts.”

The next round of spanks hurt more than anything; I just cried my heart out. It was good to cry, I think I cried more for the sake of it than because it hurt so much. I thought maybe it was because I was exhausted from having no sleep. The spanking lasted twice as long as before and I just surrendered to it. Then it was over.

I danced about the room clutching at my behind; my face must have been a picture of contrition.

“Pull yourself together.” He ordered. “Go and face the wall until you regain some dignity.”

I bounced up and down rubbing my bottom facing the wall. I didn’t feel very dignified.

He had me stand there for an age. I realised after, that I must have stood there for about 20 minutes.

“Alright. Bend over the desk for a sixer.” He said finally and a little impatiently.

“Sir I?” My mouth must have been open in surprise.

“Close your mouth and do it.”

I did. There was a sound of practice swishes. He was waiting. I raised my skirt.

“Sorry I forgot.” I said sullenly.

“This is for skipping school yesterday.”

I had forgotten how much the cane hurt. The pain sawed into me building as it went. I finally drew a breath and the searing sting began to fade. Another cut just below it seized my attention. I yelled.

The pain was just like before, only I could still feel its fellow aching above.

The third fell just where I expected only slightly sooner than I was ready for it. I yelled and then sobbed. The pain of three strokes cut achingly into me. I waited. Sir made another practice cut just as I expected it fall across my bottom. I yelped as if he had caned me. Then the fourth took me right across the underside of my bottom where I sat.

There was a long pause. Long enough for me to see myself in my minds eye, sobbing and submissively bending across a desk with my bottom sticking up. My knickers had ridden up and my right buttock was exposed, the chill without, contrasted with the heat within. I suddenly flushed with shame.

The fifth stroke cut me across the fold where buttocks met thigh. I jumped up and grabbed my bottom. I was sobbing uncontrollably now.

“Get down girl.” He bellowed.

I obeyed and grabbed hold of the desk as if my life depended upon it. He waited for me to calm down. Was he being cruel or kind?

He laid on the sixth between the fifth and the fourth. I knew they would merge all the way across my sit spots. I lost myself in sobbing. He indulged me.

Finally, he allowed me to stand.

“Was I too harsh?” He asked kindly.

I shook my head. I knew I deserved it.

“Go home straight after class and get some sleep.” He ordered. “I’ll square it with your tutor.

If anyone saw me tearfully limping down the hall to the cloakroom then they knew I had been caned. At that moment I was beyond caring. Once ensconced with the relative safety of the older girls cloakroom I really began to wail out loud. It took ages for me to stop myself crying and I looked a sight as bent over sobbing showing my bare bottom to the cloakroom mirror. My bottom was still a deep red all over from the spanking. Cutting across the almost shiny surface of my bottom were three vivid streaks that stood out even against the red. Below that was a textured band of purple that stood up like a bar right across my lower bottom where I sat.

I had never seen a student use these particular cloakrooms. Too close to the head of year’s office I supposed. That’s what I recklessly told myself as I stood so blatantly exposed. Perhaps I hoped someone would come in. I felt strangely cleansed and any further humiliation now, seemed to me to be like the pleasure gained from probing a sore tooth. Or a spanked bottom, I thought with a blush.

I sat at the back during history so that I cold tuck my leg under myself to simulate sitting. What the teacher said god only knows. My pulsing behind had all my attention.

To be continued.

3 Responses to “Angela’s story: a punishment deserved”

  1. 1 x

    the devil said this: “where be evil i stay here”
    the devil is right now in the school ha ha ha ha ua ha ha
    and never go out of there

  2. 2 Brian

    What a superb picture of a well-thrashed bum! Even if she is still wearing her knickers – down, perhaps before another caning?

  1. 1 Punishment stories | Becknell

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