How Do You Solve A Problem Like Miss Manson
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Memories Of Miss Manson free porn video
This is a true story of what happened to me during my time at secondary school between 1987 and 1994. In 1986, if my memory serves me correctly, corporal punishment in schools was banned. However, that didn’t seem to stop teachers at my old school – and may I add – completely female teachers – from using it on occasions. I remember an incident in a Drama lesson at the school.
We were all in PE kit of t-shirt and shorts and had been instructed by the teacher, a tall, blonde lady called Mrs Bolton, to freeze and stand perfectly still. All of a sudden, there was a loud “crack!” which echoed through the classroom.
Mrs Bolton then asked sternly that “if anyone wants to see what I’ve just done, then turn around.”
Being an inquisitive person, I turned around and in what seemed like a second, the back of my left leg was stinging from a full force slap from Mrs Bolton’s hard right hand. It brought tears to my eyes.
I was a well behaved student during my time at school but also received punishment during a Maths lesson. This one still upsets me to this very day. I am short sighted but did not wear glasses until much later in life. However, I needed to sit near the front of the class in order to see the board. Our new Maths teacher was Miss Walton, who decided that she would place the class in an alphabetical seating plan.
As it turned out with my surname being at the back of the alphabet, I ended up sitting right at the back of the class. I could not see the board and decided to ask Miss if I could change to a seat at the front of the class. I remember getting to my feet and walking down to Miss Walton’s desk which was at the front of the classroom and politely asking her if I could change seats and giving her the honest reason why. Louise Walton was in her mid-thirties and had not come across as a seriously strict teacher in my time at school, so her reaction to my request still shocks me even as I write this.
Miss Walton got to her feet and looked at me for what seemed like an age. The rest of the class were staring at me in silence too.
Louise then calmly said, “That will mess up my seating plan, but I guess you will have to move to the front of the row.”
I felt relieved, but then she added, “But you will have to hold out your hands as I want you to remember that you were the one that messed up my seating plan.”
Stupidly, I did as instructed without question and was soon holding out the palm of my right hand. Louise Walton took her wooden ruler from her desk, measured it out across my small hand and smacked my palm hard. Same on my left hand. I didn’t cry – I wouldn’t dare in front of the rest of the class but the pain was intense and I definitely had tears in my eyes as I gathered up my things and moved to my new seat.
However, it is my experiences with my History teacher, Miss Manson which have stuck in my memory even more. I first experienced Miss Manson shortly after starting at the school and she was teaching us Geography. Her lessons aren’t memorable and I only ever got told off once that year by her – she caught me chewing gum in class and she made me put it in the bin. That was it. She was a soft touch to be honest and was unremarkable looking.
I didn’t meet her again until I was near to the end of my time at the school, in sixth form, when she was Head of History and teaching us during the two year examination course. Again, her lessons were very dull and boring. Copy out of a textbook and that was my History class. Still, I loved the subject and just got on with things. It wasn’t until the final months of the school year that I had my interest in being spanked awoken by Pauline Manson.
We had just completed our coursework pieces and stupidly, I went to Miss Manson’s room to hand it in one break time. The door was unlocked but she wasn’t there. I decided that, as long as my name was on it, then I’d just leave it on her desk. Imagine my shock the next day when my Form Mistress, Miss Rebecca Williams, announced that morning that I had to go and see Miss Manson immediately. A bit shocked, I obeyed and made my way up to the third floor of the main school building where Miss Manson’s classroom was. Pauline wasn’t a Form Mistress so was sitting behind her desk preparing for her first class of the day.
I don’t remember the exact dialogue of the conversation that followed, but Miss accused me of not handing in my coursework and saying that I would have to re-do the piece. I knew that it had been written (my brother had done it for me!) and knew that it had been handed in so I began to protest. I was usually a really polite and well-mannered student, but must have said something unacceptable which resulted in Pauline Manson informing me that I’d be in detention for an hour the next evening after school.
I considered not going to that detention, but knew the consequences of not attending would be a lot more severe. Any trouble at school usually resulted in my mother beating my bare buttocks severely with a nasty wooden coat hanger. Besides, it would give me an opportunity of being alone with Pauline for an hour. I was just at that age when I as becoming sexually aware and admit to having a crush on her.
Miss Manson was nothing special however. I don’t know why I loved her or why I still think of her today. She was in her late thirties or early forties, was very slim and stood at about five feet five inches tall, had short dark hair but was not one of the female members of staff that normal boys would fantasize about! I think it was more to do with how Pauline dressed. Always a blouse and skirt, and to this day, if I see a lady dressed in this way, it does something to me. Added to this, Miss Manson had the most amazing breasts. They were small, but always looked so well formed and we used to laugh at her nipples always being visible through the tight blouses she wore regularly.
That first detention with Pauline started like any other detention. I was instructed to sit down behind a desk, given a textbook and sheets of paper and told to copy out from the first page she came to. I didn’t really want to do this, but as a good student, just got down to it. I don’t know how long I had been copying out about Pearl Harbour, or whatever it was, but I noticed that Miss Manson had left her desk and was standing watching what I was writing over my shoulder. I stopped writing and looked up at her. If I had been brave, I’d have told her that I fancied her, but couldn’t do this. My cock, however, had begun to grow in my underpants and I’m sure that Pauline could see this through my trousers.
“Do you want to do that for the rest of the detention, or do you want to get out early, Peter?”
Pauline walked around to face me and bent down slightly, not taking her brown eyes off me.
“What do you mean, Miss?” I was really confused and probably worried about the erection that was so obvious in my trousers.
Pauline smiled at me and closed the textbook on my desk.
“Well, you can spend the full hour copying from the book, or I can cut your detention short and let you go in ten minutes.” I was shocked and knew there was a “but” coming.
“But, that would mean I could give your bottom a few smacks for being so naughty.” Pauline stood up and I got a great view of her perfectly formed breasts underneath her short sleeved cotton blouse.
I remained silent as I honestly did not know what to say. This turned into an awkward silence until it was broken by Pauline Manson.
“I’ll bend you over my desk and just give your bottom a few smacks with my hand – nothing too hard,” Pauline hastened to add.
“Then you can go home.”
Thinking back, Pauline knew she had won almost immediately, as she walked away back to her desk at the front of the classroom and just waited for me. Almost automatically, I was on my feet and walked down the long classroom until I was standing in front of Miss Manson’s desk. Pauline was really nervous about what she was about to do and kept looking over her shoulder at the door at the front of the room and also at the door at the back of the long classroom, but soon must have decided to go for it.
“Come round here Peter and just place your hands on my desk.” Pauline cleared a space on her desk and I moved into it and placed my hands on the far side of her large wooden desk.
“Stick your bottom out.” Pauline said softly and I duly obliged.
Now, Miss Manson’s first spanking was nothing to write home about. Well, apart from being spanked by a lady who I fantasized about all the time, that is. I probably could have spanked myself harder and the dozen or so smacks were given softly and, as they were done over my trousers, I didn’t really feel a thing. Then Pauline sent me on my way and nothing more was said. I completed my “lost” coursework and we continued to copy from textbooks every lesson.
However, Pauline decided to push her luck with me a little further when I was in my final year at school and seventeen years old. Four more after school detentions with Miss Manson happened. All for stupid trivial matters which I can’t remember any of them now. The spankings were so similar to that first one. Given over the trousers with her right hand and I hardly felt them before being sent on my way. It was late April 1994 and only a few weeks before our exams started that I was to experience a spanking with Pauline Manson that is still fresh in my memory today. This was no “play” spanking, this was a “goodbye” spanking and possibly the punishment Miss Manson would have loved to have administered to me if corporal punishment was still allowed.
The detention started like my previous ones – with me copying from a textbook while Pauline stood behind me watching. Normally, I would have hated someone standing so close to me, but with Miss Manson it was so different. I could smell her perfume and also could try and get a sneaky look at her lovely breasts. I’m sure she knew that I was doing this, but she never said anything. My cock was hard and I was trying my best to hide it so Pauline wouldn’t notice. Then came the familiar question.
“Do you want to copy out of that book for an hour or would you like to go home early?” Almost in a whisper.
By now, I already had the textbook closed and would be running to bend over the desk at the front of the classroom. However, that last spanking was going to be a proper, no nonsense spanking to show that Pauline really wasn’t a soft touch and may have been a much better teacher had corporal punishment still been allowed.
“I’d like to go home early, Miss.” I replied and looked up at Pauline who walked to the back of the room and locked the door with a key she had in her right hand.
She then made her way to the front of the room and locked that door too.
“Strange”, I thought but watched and waited for my instructions.
What came next still shocks me to this very day. Pauline Manson pulled her leather backed chair out from under her desk and placed it in the aisle. She then reached into her bag under the desk and placed a wooden brush on the top of her desk.
“Come here Peter!” The instruction was unlike any I had received from Pauline in detention in the past.
This was stern and I was left in no doubt that I could not mess about. When I was standing in front of Pauline she eyed me up and down and saw me looking down at her lovely breasts.
“We’ll do this properly as it’s probably our last time Peter.” Pauline reached for my tie and began to loosen it.
I let her and didn’t react as she took it off and placed it on the desk. She then began to unbutton my shirt and I may have mumbled something, but again, I didn’t stop her. Soon, Pauline Manson was folding my shirt up neatly and placing it softly on her desk. Pauline wasn’t finished yet and asked me to take off my shoes, which I nervously struggled to do, but finally placed them to one side and stared at my teacher.
“Years ago, if you were being punished then it would be given on the bare bottom.” Pauline already had her hands working on undoing my belt and I just let her do this.
Soon, the belt was undone and the button and zip and she paused. I knew I had an erection and so did Miss Manson. She looked at me and without a word, pulled the trousers down and soon they were around my ankles. Pauline Manson asked me to pick them up and I bent down and placed them into her outstretched hands. She added them to the pile of my clothing on her desk.
I stood there in my boxer shorts, erection straining inside, in front of Miss. She seemed to be thinking to herself and I felt her warm hands on my waist. She slipped both hands on either side of my hips and then inside the elastic of my shorts. Pauline continued to think but I nervously noticed that my shorts were gradually coming down. Eventually they slipped and were around my ankles, my rock hard penis pointing straight at Miss Manson. She said nothing about it, instead asking me to pick up my boxer shorts and hand them to her. I obeyed and Pauline added them to the pile.
“Right, let’s get on with this because I don’t want to get caught, Peter.”
With that, Pauline returned to her chair and sat down, gesturing at me to stand to her right side. I walked over silently and looked down at Miss Manson. She was wearing my favourite white cotton short sleeved blouse and a knee length silky blue and white patterned skirt. I remember thinking to myself that I hoped that I didn’t ejaculate when I lay over the skirt as the material was so nice to the touch.
“Over my knee!” Miss Manson instructed firmly and her right hand gave me a gentle push to help me on my way.
Pauline ignored my erection as I slowly lay over her knees, placing my hands on the wooden floor. I tried not to move around too much in case I had an accident over Pauline’s skirt but Miss Manson moved me a little with her hands until she was totally happy with the position in which she placed me. Her hand then wandered to my buttocks and she began to massage my bum cheeks, running her hands around each bum cheek in circles. I began to think that I was about to cum, but Pauline finally decided that it was time.
“Just to make this clear, Peter.” I looked up at Pauline who continued to run her fingers around my buttocks.
“Not a word as I punish you, is that clear?” Pauline stared down at me.
“Yes Miss.” I had hardly got my words out before Pauline’s right hand came crashing down across my right buttock.
The pain shocked me. This was no playful spanking. Pauline Manson was taking a risk by doing this to me so she was going to make it worthwhile. I struggled to remain silent and it became more difficult as Pauline Manson spanked repeatedly with her right hand. I have a suspicion that she spanked regularly seen as she seemed to know all the tricks to cause maximum discomfort.
She spanked my buttocks alternatively. She spanked the creases in between legs and thighs. She spanked as hard as she could. I began to move around to try and avoid her hard right hand, but Pauline pushed me down into her lap with her free left hand and ensured that I was going nowhere. The scent of Pauline’s perfume grew stronger as her emotions rose and she concentrated fully on what would be a goodbye spanking to remember.
I guess Pauline Manson spanked me for no longer than five minutes but it felt like it was never going to end. She placed her left hand on my lower back and her right hand which was extremely hot, returned to soothing my burning bottom. I had tears in my eyes but concentrated fully on what Pauline was saying.
“Now I’m going to give you something to remember me by Peter.”
I didn’t see her pick the wooden backed hairbrush up and wasn’t sure what she was rubbing my bottom with. It was hard and cold. Quite soothing after having my buttocks set on fire by Pauline’s extremely hard right hand. However, what was to come was much worse. That first stroke with the hairbrush ignited an inferno across the centre of my bottom and I wriggled for all I was worth. Almost shouting out, but remembering at the last moment to keep my mouth shut. Pauline worked frantically with the brush and beat my buttocks equally, deliberately or maybe accidentally catching the creases between my legs and buttocks. These smacks got the tears flowing and I know I was sobbing but doing my best to keep quiet.
Again, after probably about five minutes, Pauline stopped and I remember her reaching over me and placing the brush back on her desk. Her hand soothed my buttocks and then strayed down my thighs and in between my legs which were slightly opened. Miss Manson said nothing at all but I could hear her breathing – she was out of breath after her exertions. As Pauline’s hands travelled between my legs she touched the tip of my penis and my sobs were replaced by a satisfied moan. She also touched my scrotum and stroked my balls that were lying content on her lovely silky skirt.
Just as I was calming down, Pauline stopped and ordered me to my feet. I struggled to stand up and I instinctively rubbed my burning bottom, not taking my eyes off Pauline for a second.
“Get dressed quickly.” She said softly and I hurriedly dressed, still watching Pauline, who replaced her chair behind the desk, slipped the hairbrush in her bag and then unlocked both doors.
She gathered up the textbook I had been copying from and the work that I had done and placed them on her desk. She walked over to where I was standing, fully dressed by now, and thought for a second. In the next moment, Pauline Manson put her arms around me and took my hands inviting me to do the same. I slowly put my hands around her waist, and because I couldn’t resist, moved them up her white cotton blouse. I became confident quickly and touched her breasts through her blouse and she allowed me to hold my hands there for a few moments. She let me go from the embrace and gently kissed me on the lips before moving away from me and opening the door.
“Goodbye Peter. I’ll see you on Thursday.” She held the door open as I walked out and down the stairs, still a bit sore and in shock at what had just happened.
I admit, like any boy of seventeen, I masturbated a lot back then, but that night after my final detention with Miss Manson I couldn’t stop myself doing it at the thought of what she had done earlier that day. In fact, nearly twenty five years have passed now and I still think of the experience. I wish I had returned to school and asked Miss Manson if we could meet for a repeat performance. I have met many professionals for spanking sessions over the years, but must admit that none of them compare to those spankings I received from Pauline Manson when I was in the sixth form at school.
She made such an impression on me that I still think about her and still have a vision of her standing there, in her blouse and skirt with her hairbrush in her right hand. Oh, and with a wicked little smile on her face. Thank you so much, Miss.
Blaze
- 14.08.2021
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