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My name is Mary Wainwright and I went to infants' and junior schools, as they were then called, between 1948 (when I was 5 years old) and 1954 (when I was 11 years old). I then moved to an all girls' grammar school, where I studied from 1954 until 1962, when I left to go to university at the age of 19. In those days the routine method of keeping order and discipline among school children was corporal punishment. For pre-secondary school children the commonest method of corporal punishment was to smack their legs. Secondary school pupils sometimes got the cane across their hands, and sometimes the cane, a gym slipper or a belt across their bottoms.

At infants' and junior schools this was the usual procedure. You would be called out to the front of the class. Then the teacher would pull up your dress and knickers (or, if you were a boy, your trouser leg). She would then slap you across the back of your bare thigh, just below your bottom, with the flat of her hand. Then, unless you were very lucky, she would come round to your other side, raise the other side of your dress and knickers, and smack your other leg for you.

Well, like everybody else in those days, I endured sporadic slappings from the age of 5 until I was 11. Then I went off to secondary school. This was an all-girls selective grammar school with a very good reputation. My parents were delighted when I passed the entrance exams. As for me, well, as the narrative below makes clear, I had mixed feelings.

When I arrived at grammar school I was put into the first form. Our mathematics teacher was also our form mistress. She was called Miss Goodhall, and she was a young spinster aged about 21, just out of teacher training college. Her Christian name, I was later to discover, was Elizabeth. Although she was only young, she was very prim, proper and starchy, even by the standards of those more formal days. She had a shrewish and scolding tongue, with which she frequently harangued us. Even worse, whenever we incurred her displeasure, she dealt out swift and strict retribution. She was, indeed, a firm disciplinarian, and every single day there were at least two or three, and usually half a dozen or more, members of her class whom she punished physically.

There was something that made me really furious about the physical chastisement dished out by Miss Goodhall. Unlike every other teacher in the school, Miss Goodhall did not cane, slipper or strap you. She punished you as if you were a naughty little girl at junior school. She slapped you across your legs with her hands, and she used to smack you a lot harder, and for a lot longer, than you had been slapped at junior school. It was only later that I worked out the reason for this. With the benefit of hindsight I can see quite clearly that Miss Goodhall was a lesbian who lusted after naked, nubile female flesh. She was fond of young women and girls, and she fancied herself in the role of a strict and kinky female dominatrix.

Let me describe how Miss Goodhall punished us. First we were called to the front and made to stand on the side of her desk that was nearest to the blackboard and furthest from the class. We were then told to face the class and bend over the desk. This meant that our bottoms were towards the blackboard and out of sight of our fellow pupils, since their view was obscured by the victim's frontage and by the large wooden desk. The effect of this was to give Miss Goodhall a lot of freedom, and the discretion to vary her punishment style. This was because your fellow pupils did not know, unless you chose to tell them later, exactly what she was doing to you (see below).

How naughty you were was not the only factor in determining the frequency or the severity of your punishment. If you were a big meaty girl (if, in other words, Miss Goodhall fancied you) you were disciplined more frequently and more sexily, irrespective of your conduct. This, indeed, was my misfortune. By the time I arrived at grammar school I was big for my age, and well developed. I still had a lot of growing to do, but there was already more than enough there to keep Miss Goodhall overexcited. And wow! Did she make me pay for my premature nubility on each and every occasion that she caught me bending!

The nature of the chastisement that Miss Goodhall dished out varied. The standard punishment was like this. Miss Goodhall would stand on your right hand side. She would then lift your dress and drape it over your back. Then she would pull up your left knicker leg with her right hand. Next she would slap the top of your left thigh, just below your bottom, with her flattened left hand. These slaps were applied very briskly and vigorously, in multiples of a dozen. You always took 48 of these. Each of the 4 batches of 12 slaps was applied very quickly. It was all over in about 4 seconds. Then Miss Goodhall would pause for another four seconds or so to let you fully feel the incremental effect of her handiwork. Then, just as the ringing and tingling from the first 12 slaps reached a crescendo, she would give you another 12, and so on until you had taken the full 48. Then Miss Goodhall came around to your left hand side and applied the same chastisement to the top of your right thigh with her flattened right hand. Miss Goodhall always slapped you on both legs. She was right-handed when she wrote on the blackboard, but when she whacked you she seemed to be ambidextrous because the smacks from each of her flattened hands came equally, and fiendishly, sharp. Then, to finish you off, Miss Goodhall would give you four slaps with her right hand across both bare legs. These slaps were harder than the previous 96, and she paused between each of them to let you fully feel it before she gave you the next one. You then walked back to your desk. You had taken a total of 100 sharp slaps, 48 across each leg and four harder ones across both legs, and, believe me, the backs of your thighs were ringing like two handbells!

It is difficult to be definite about it, but my view is that the standard punishment described above was, in fact, rarely if ever used. Instead, one of two other procedures, both even saucier and sexier than the original, was employed.

In the first of these, Miss Goodhall would tug up your knicker legs to your waist and slap you first on your bared left buttock and then on your bared right buttock rather than on your thighs. Then, to finish you off she would bare both buttocks (see below) and give you the four harder smacks slap across your naked arse. She could do all this because, although in the 1950s girls' knickers were fairly capacious, they were also quite loose fitting, with thin and very stretchy elastic in the legs. Miss Goodhall tended to concentrate on the soft undercarriage of the bottom where the bum curved round to the pussy crack and the meat was at its plumpest and tenderest. She clearly got a sharp sexual frisson out of it all and, in her state of heightened sexual erythrism, she always applied the 96 slaps even harder and faster than usual, followed by the four slaps across both buttocks that were even sharper than she was wont to lay on. It did not actually hurt much more than being slapped across the legs, but, even so, you felt very well smacked as you went back to your seat after your 100 slaps, and, in addition, intensely humiliated.

The variant on this was even more sexy and humiliating. Sometimes Miss Goodhall would pull both of your knicker legs up to your waist at the same time while slotting the gusset of your knickers into the crack between the cheeks of your bum. This left your bum, and, in particular, Miss Goodhall's favourite bit of it, the pussy meat at the bottom of both buttocks, completely bare and vulnerable to assault. She would then spank you, very hard and fast, across the naked cheeks of both buttocks. When she did this, she would stop after 48 slaps to hide what she was up to from the spectators. Then she would come round to your other side and slap you across both bare buttocks with her other hand, again very hard and fast, another 48 times. Then came the four harder slaps across both buttocks (see above). By the end you had taken a total of 100 spanks slap across both bare buttocks. Meanwhile, you could tell from Miss Goodhall's vigorous and excited application of the flat of her hand that she was really enjoying her work! At the end of it all you felt very well smacked, very well chastened, and very well humiliated and shamed. You thought that Miss Goodhall had made a monkey out of you, and you felt a proper Charlie. Ouch! It still makes my blood boil with fury, all these years afterwards, to recall how Miss Goodhall made fools of us and took advantage of our situation. There was nothing we could do about it. We had to obediently bend over that desk and take whatever she dished out to us. Wow! The dirty old pervert had the time of her life at our expense. I bet she really enjoyed herself!

Then there were a couple of other tricks that Miss Goodhall sometimes used to pull on us. Firstly, after the last smack of each 12 slap series she would leave her hand in the position where it had landed during the ensuing pause of four seconds or so, so that she could feel the hot tingly meat under her palm and fingers. During this pause she made particularly good use of her fingers, which she would gently press into both of your buttocks right across the plump sexy pussy meat that lay just above your inner thighs and at the back of your twat. Then again, before she finally removed her hand, she would first feel you up by gently pressing her palm and fingers into the chastised meat. Then she would allow her fingers to roam between your legs and up against the knicker gusset that covered your cunt lips. She would fondle each buttock separately, or else rub and grope across and between both buttocks, in accordance with whichever variant of her buttock spanking technique she had adopted. Then she did exactly the same after the next batch of 12 spanks, and again after the application of each of the four harder spanks at the end of your ordeal. The result was that by the time your punishment was over you had been touched up, in a highly indecent fashion, on no fewer than 12 separate occasions.

As a first-form grammar school girl aged 11 and 12 all this used to enrage me. But what happened last of all infuriated me even more and left me hopping mad. When she had done all this to me, Miss Goodhall would finish me off with a final little pat from her right hand across the back of the cunt. This time, however, the slap was the opposite of disciplinary. It was friendly and affectionate, as if to thank me for being a sport and for giving her such intense sexual pleasure. It was just as if she were my husband, and she were administering a saucy and patronising little smack on the bum to thank me for being so sexy and so enjoyable in bed. And, just like a husband's love smack, that final slap lingered. Yet again, after she had delivered it, Miss Goodhall left her hand in position for as long as she dared. She would then give my bottom a final, lingering grope, and this time, every time, she would rub her fingers firmly against the knicker gusset covering my twat. Then she would remove her hand and, unusually for her, Miss Goodhall would give me a big, friendly smile. "Thank you, Mary," she would say in a tone that demonstrated without any doubt that she was really happy and pleased with herself. Then, "Off you go!" she would gleefully and patronisingly add.

Aaagh! After all these years, it still makes my blood boil! Wow! That kinky old lesbian really rattled my bare arse for me! She took me to the cleaners beautifully, like a randy, saucy old man seducing a naive and innocent sixteen-year-old virgin!

Well, I had to put up with Miss Goodhall's sexual molestation throughout my first and second years at grammar school. All of the teachers had their own disciplinary practices, and, if you were very naughty, you could be sent to the headmistress for the cane. Luckily, throughout my grammar school career, I managed to avoid the cane; but I took the slipper from class teachers from time to time, and once a teacher gave me the strap across my knickers. Ouch! That strap stung like hell, and the various slippers that assailed my bum used to really tingle. But, even so, none of this was as humiliating as Miss Goodhall's hand spankings.

In Year 3, for the first time since I had arrived at the school, Miss Goodhall was not my Mathematics teacher, and I heaved a big sigh of relief. She had, I learned, arrived at the school in the same year that I had, and she was the most junior of the 3 mathematics teachers on the staff. Thus, her teaching was confined to the younger girls. But have you ever noticed, dear reader, that sometimes, when you think that you are safe, a cruel and malign fate dictates otherwise? I still vividly remember my first day in form 5A, in September 1958. When we turned up at our form room, there, standing at the front of it, was... Miss Goodhall. Yes, after the resignation of one of her 2 colleagues, and the move of the other to another school, she had been appointed the Head of Mathematics, with responsibility for teaching the O level forms! Even worse, she had been assigned as the form mistress of... 5A. Wow! Miss Goodhall in charge of 36 buxom and nubile ladies aged 15 and 16! It was like putting the fox in charge of the hencoop!

What made it even worse was that she was now more confident. She had practised her sexy fun and games on the younger girls for 4 years, and had got away with it. This was the first time that she had taught the upper forms, and she was resolved to make the most of it.

There were thus a number of developments in Miss Goodhall's disciplinary practices. She still gave you the standard 100 slaps at each disciplinary session, and she still administered them in the same fashion. But now, as well as her hand, she sometimes used, as and when she thought fit, a broad, flat rubber spatula. This, for example, was a favourite for her 4 final hard spanks. I think that Miss Goodhall was torn. She really loved to slap you with her hand, to feel nubile, naked flesh shudder and quiver under her fingers and palms, especially if you were an older, bigger and meatier girl with a hairy twat for her to touch up and grope. But, on the other hand, she also felt the need to make you really sting and tingle, and she had concluded that, as you got older, her hand was an increasingly inadequate implement for this purpose. But my word! That rubber spatula did the job in spades! If you took the full hundred whacks with that your bottom felt as if it had been doused in petrol and torched; and it stayed red, sore and tender for several hours afterwards.

But even that was not the worst. I cannot speak for everyone, but I know that when she disciplined some of my friends and myself Miss Goodhall did something else, and this was well out of order. Instead of baring your bottoms by pulling your knickers up over your bum flesh, she tugged your knickers down to the tops of your thighs, so that you did not even have the protection of your knicker gusset against her indecent probing. Oh, yes! Our nubile, hairy fannies were well groped! Frequently, Miss Goodhall's fingers would massage and rub the hirsute lips of our tight, youthful vaginas, and probe tantalisingly between our labias and into our cunt slots! Worse than that, some of us, myself included, were not infrequently excited to orgasm by Miss Goodhall's skilful, lewd and indecent assaults. Meanwhile, since our bums, crotches and vulvas were hidden from general view by the desk that we were bending over, many of the audience were given the impression that we were just getting the regulation chastisement, and not a full knickers down pussy feel as well.

Miss Goodhall now fancied me even more than she had done when I was younger. She spanked me, and indecently touched me up, on the slightest excuse. The only good news was that she went easy with the spatula. Fortunately, Miss Goodhall seemed to have concluded that the pleasure of groping my hairy pussy meat, inner thighs, crotch and pudenda was greater than that to be derived from making me tingle and smart from the stinging blows of the spatula.

By now my attitude to Miss Goodhall's disciplinary exploits had become more ambivalent. I was still as outraged and annoyed as ever at her saucy chastisements. But I also found her punishments exciting and sexually stimulating. My God, but she was so skilful! She knew just where to smack me for maximum effect. She would strike right across the back of my hairy twat, where the meat was at its plumpest and tenderest, just above my thighs. Wow! She rattled and stirred up my vulva to wet, throbbing excitement! And, when she groped me, her fingers were so clever and cunning! At the very least she would bring me close to orgasm, and often she tipped me over the edge into the most ecstatic sensations of pleasure and pain. On more than one occasion, Miss Goodhall's fingers felt out contractions in my loins, and the hot, sticky wetness in my crotch. I could feel her as she groped at me, dipping her fingers in my wetness, luxuriating in my pleasure and glorying in her skilful performance, and in the power that she had over me. But she was so cunning and discreet that none of this was obvious to my fellow students. Oh, happy, golden days of youth, when I was in my prime! To this day, the mere memory of it still stiffens my clitoris and makes my cunt meat moisten and throb!

Now during our year of O level studies we were taught Chemistry by, of all things, a young man. He was the only male on the staff, and he seemed very embarrassed about it. Well, it was like throwing a Christian to the lions. He was quiet and shy, but very handsome and we all fancied him. 5A were just the girls for him, nubile, randy, champing against the bit at an all-female academy, and gagging for it. Wow! Did we make the poor man's life hell! One of his problems was that he was too gentlemanly and too polite to clamp down on us with the necessary forcefulness. And, of course, as a gentleman, he would never have thought or dared to strike a lady, and certainly not with a slipper, across her beknickered arse. But, to be honest, that is what we all deserved.

Anyway, for several weeks our handsome young Chemistry teacher (who was called Dr. John Hodgetts) took all that we had to give him, getting more and more rattled at our suggestive double entendres and our saucy come-ons. Then, one day, my friend Mandy goaded him just a little bit too far, and he snapped. "Mandy," he barked. "See me, at the end of the lesson."

Well, the rest of us did not get to hear what happened until later, but what it was, was this. Dr. Hodgetts had taken the culprit to her form mistress, Miss Goodhall, and had requested action. Then, without so much as a word (unusual for her), Miss Goodhall had turned Mandy across the desk, raised her gymslip, pulled her knickers down to the tops of her thighs, and slapped her bare arse for her with the spatula. This time, while Dr. Hodgetts was present, there was no use of the hand, and no sexy touch-ups. Poor old Mandy caught it, and she caught it hard. She told me later that Miss Goodhall really rattled her naked arse for her. Meanwhile, Dr. Hodgetts stood in front of her. The punishment desk was raised onto quite a high platform, whereas he was standing off it, so his face was only a little lower than Mandy's, and quite close to it. Throughout her ordeal, she said, John Hodgetts had gazed into her eyes. He was clearly absorbed and excited by her punishment, and, when she gazed down at his crotch, Mandy noticed that it was bulging noticeably. He could not see exactly what Miss Goodhall was up to, but, from the solid, high pitched crack of flat rubber onto bare skin, he must have worked out that she was tanning Mandy's bare arse.

After that, Dr. Hodgetts took to hauling other malefactors off to Miss Goodhall for summary chastisement. Indeed, he seemed to enjoy doing it! It became a big talking point among the girls of 5A, and it did his street cred no harm at all. Wow! We had taken him for a sucker and a wimp, but we had seriously underestimated him! He was no easy push over! Now it was him who was suckering us! Oh, yes! Doctor John Hodgetts knew just how to sweat his temper, and he knew just how to sweat his ladies, as the bare, tingling red arses of a number of our classmates clearly demonstrated!

Meanwhile, I was in a state of palpitation. I myself fancied John Hodgetts something rotten. He had only just finished his doctorate, and was about 24, 8 years older than me, and, if he had made a play for me, my maidenhead would have been dead meat. At night, I would lie on my bed and fantasise about him. I imagined him taking me to Miss Goodhall for chastisement, and gazing into my eyes as I took the spatula across my bare arse. Wow! I thought! If I really wanted him, that should get him interested, especially if I played my cards right!

Thus it was that a bold, daring and saucy plan was formed in my mind. By the time I got out of bed the next morning I was resolved on my course of action, and determined to see it through to the end.

At our next Chemistry lesson I was outrageously rude and cheeky to John Hodgetts. Then, when he threatened to take me to Miss Goodhall, I told him that he would not dare. That did it. At the end of the lesson he marched me off straight to her. As when she had punished my friend Mandy Miss Goodhall said not a word. Without further ado she bent me over the desk, lifted my gymslip and discreetly pulled down my knickers to the tops of my thighs. Meanwhile, John Hodgetts stood a few feet in front of me, looking up into my face. Right, I thought, it is now or never. And I reached into the top pocket of my blazer and pulled out a set of cards, about 3 inches by 5 inches. I held the cards out to John Hodgetts. The top one was blank. Meanwhile, as I had hoped, Miss Goodhall was far too engrossed with my nether regions to notice or bother with what was going on at the other end, and, in any case, her view was obscured by the desk, and by my bum, back and head.

As Miss Goodhall pulled my knickers down to my thighs, I peeled off the top card from my collection and moved it to the back. This revealed the next card, and on this, in capitals, and in thick, distinct, black ink, was written: "CARD 01: MY NAUGHTINESS I SOON WILL RUE. IT WILL HURT ME MORE THAN IT HURTS YOU." The effect on John Hodgetts was dramatic. His crotch, I had noticed, was already bulging. Now, almost instantaneously, I could have sworn that beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He seemed helpless to control himself, and I saw him slip his hand into his trouser pocket and begin to rub his cock. Good, I thought to myself. That seems to have got his attention. But just you wait, young man. Next I will give you something to really blow your mind!

But then the unpleasant part started, and I realised that there was a drawback with my plan. Miss Goodhall started her merciless trip hammering of my naked arse with that pesky spatula, and I began to have second thoughts. Wow! That spatula came sharp, very sharp, and I was not expecting it. I winced and grunted. The slaps rang out like cracks from a rifle, and after the first salvo of 12 hard spanks my bare bum was ringing like a bell. But I kept my resolve. During the brief pause, I peeled back Card 01 and put it at the back of the pile, thus revealing the next one: "CARD 02: THUS I LEARN HOW NAUGHTY PRANKING IS REWARDED WITH A SPANKING." By now John was helpless, and tugging hard at his stiff and engorged cock though his trouser pocket. Meanwhile, he stared hard into my face with a look somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

Then Miss Goodhall started off again. Whack, whack, whack... My beleaguered twat meat took another 12 of the best. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" By now I was helplessly crying out against the escalating tingling. But then followed my second brief respite, and again I did my thing: "CARD 03: OK, YOU WIN, I PLAYED THE CLOWN; BUT GOOD AND HARD YOU'VE SLAPPED ME DOWN." By now I was beginning to regret my rash and ill-considered plan. Never again, I vowed, would I voluntarily present my naked rump to the rude ministrations of this kinky old lesbian!

But that was for the future. At the present moment there was no escape from my folly. My bum shuddered in keen anticipation of what was about to hit it. Then Miss Goodhall gave me another batch of free gifts to remember her by. Whack, whack, whack went the rubber spatula, slap across my naked rump, and the smacks rang out around the room like shots from a rapid fire machine gun. By now I was emitting loud, high-pitched squeals as though I were in the throes of an orgasm. Then ouch, I thought, as Miss Goodhall paused again. That's only 36! There are still 64 to go! And I started to feel very, very sorry for myself. By now all of the cockiness had been slapped out of me. I gazed forlornly into Mr. Hodgetts eyes and, from my expression, he must have seen that I was a very chastened young lady. Even so, I managed to move Card 03 to the back of the pack to reveal: "CARD 04: I WAS NAUGHTY I ADMIT. I DESERVE TO GET MY BOTTOM HIT." When he read this confession, John Hodgetts smiled smugly, and gazed at me with intense eye contact as he continued to massage his excited cock through his trouser pocket. Then came the next blistering 12-spank salvo from Miss Goodhall.

And so it went on. After the first 48 spanks, Miss Goodhall came around to my other side and continued her merciless trip hammering. There were a total of 9 cards, and it was all that I could do to keep my composure and display them:

"CARD 05: THIS STINGS MY DIGNITY AND PRIDE. WHAT STINGS MORE IS MY BARE BACKSIDE."

"CARD 06 I'M SWEET 16 NUBILE AND STRAPPING. I'M TOO OLD FOR A BARE BUMMED SLAPPING."

"CARD 07 I COULD LEGALLY BE A MARRIED MUM. IT ISN'T RIGHT TO SLAP MY BUM."

"CARD 08 I'M CHASTENED WELL I'VE LEARNT MY LESSON TO AVOID ANOTHER SPANKING SESSION."

"CARD 09 THANK YOU, SIR, FOR PUTTING ME TO IT. IT'S WELL DESERVED, ALTHOUGH I RUE IT."

You will note, dear reader, that I had thought through my card display with some care. I made sure that my rhyming couplets were saucy but not indecent, and that my attitude towards John Hodgetts was respectful and submissive. The cards certainly had the required effect. John seemed particularly stimulated by Card 06; indeed, although he did his very best to hide it from me, I could see from his eyes, as he gazed, transfixed into my face, and from the involuntary jerking of his loins, that with Card 06 I had succeeded in bringing him off. The look of relief and sublime pleasure on his face as his cock started to pump his white, sticky seed into his crotch, was a big boost for me. After all, I had an enormous crush on John Hodgetts; yes, I was a naive, impressionable 16-year-old virgin and I was violently in love with him. I had deliberately exposed my bare bum to Miss Goodhall's pesky spatula, and I was putting on this kinky display of submission, entirely for his benefit, in the hope that it would force him to take notice of me. Thus, despite my tingling, ringing arse I was genuinely pleased that I had given such intense sexual pleasure to the man that, even at that tender age, I was hoping to marry.

Even so, as I rubbed my smarting rump after my chastisement, I resolved that once was enough. In future I would be a virtuous, well-governed, respectful and impeccably behaved young lady during John Hodgetts' Chemistry lessons, and the object of my amorous desires would be getting no more card displays from me as my arse was wobbled, stung and reddened by Miss Goodhall's spatula. The problem was that I had now opened Pandora's box. The good news for my classmates was that from then on John Hodgetts was a lot less keen to haul them off to Miss Goodhall for a spanking. He still did it from time to time, but now it seemed to be purely for disciplinary reasons, rather than for his own sexual gratification. The bad news for me, however, was that he could not wait to get me over that desk again, with Miss Goodhall's spatula rattling my bare arse while he gazed intently into my eyes. As for me, I was torn. I was pleased and flattered at the sexual interest that John was taking in me, and I badly wanted to pleasure him; but, on the other hand, that pesky spatula came so fiendishly sharp across the back of a girl's hairy cunt slot that I dearly wished to avoid Miss Goodhall's enthusiastic and energetic administrations of discipline.

The result was a compromise. John was too nice, and too fair-minded to haul me off for chastisement unless I had done something to deserve it. For this, I greatly respected him. I could tell, from the look in his eyes during my spanking, that my saucy trip hammering from Miss Goodhall had held him spellbound. I knew that he would just love to get me across her desk again. But I did not have the bottle for too much of that, and I was usually on my best behaviour during his lessons. The result was that I was only ever taken to Miss Goodhall for discipline if I myself decided to go. This was on 3 memorable occasions. Firstly, during the last Chemistry lesson of the Christmas term I was again ludicrously insolent to John, and I was quite rightly spanked for it, and spanked hard. Miss Goodhall seemed angry that my previous dose of the spatula had not sufficiently reformed me, and she really laid into me. But at least my chastening had the desired outcome. After all, I wanted to give John Hodgetts something to remember me by over the Christmas vacation. The same happened at the end of the Spring Term, and this time Miss Goodhall laid into me even harder. It took me all my time to take this Easter spanking without breaking into tears.