Miss Marks The New Head Mistress Chapter Nine: Miss Marks Lends A Hand free porn video

Amelia Marks smiled as she listened to the older woman on the other end of the phone. The lady, Celia Bellman-Winstanley, was the Head Mistress at Mercia Castle School, which was about ten miles down the road from Alannah Lawrence Girls’ College. Celia had been Amelia’s mentor when she had started her teaching career all those years ago and the older woman was someone who Miss Marks respected although they had little to do with one another these days.

“So, Amelia. I guess that you saw what some of our Sixth Form boys got up to during the recent trip to Normandy?” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley sighed heavily.

Amelia nodded to herself as she sat in her comfortable padded chair.

“I did hear about it, Celia and then of course, it was all over the local newspapers and even got on the local news so Melanie told me.” She smiled.

The older woman bit her tongue. She really had spent far too long speaking with reporters from all over the place about what three of her Year Twelve boys had done on the recent trip.

“It was even in the Daily Mail – God forbid!” she exclaimed before forcing a laugh.

“It must be nice that your girls are always so well behaved and always get really positive coverage in the papers or on the TV?” Celia tried her best to hide her obvious jealousy of her younger rival.

Miss Marks smiled as she looked at the page in her diary for that day. She really had lots to do that Friday and did not want to spend an age chatting to Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley, who only ever called these days when she wanted something.

“I wouldn’t say that, Celia, but I do think that since we’ve given the staff the freedom to use corporal punishment, then our girls' behaviour seems to have improved markedly. I mean, we still have our hardcore of troublemakers, but they don’t tend to act up too long before they fall into line or simply go elsewhere.” She smiled as she picked up her pen and began doodling on the pad on her desk.

Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley laughed quietly.

“And that’s why I thought that I would give you a call, Amelia. I wonder if you could help me out with our little delinquents,” she laughed.

The young, dark-haired Head Mistress smiled as she turned and looked out of her office window as Celia explained what she wanted from her younger colleague.

“I’ve spoken with the parents of the three Year Twelve boys involved in the incident and, despite their initial reservations, they agreed that they would rather we use alternative methods to deal with them instead of a long, fixed term exclusion, or in the case of one of the boys, a permanent exclusion.” The woman forced a gentle laugh.

“He’s been in trouble quite a lot in the past and he has almost exhausted all the chances we can give him,” Celia continued.

“Hmm,” Miss Marks replied.

“That’s where you come in, Amelia. I was wondering if you would come and do me a massive favour – I would be really grateful,” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley spoke softly.

Amelia Marks really did not have time for this. She had to go and meet with the school council in the library after registration and was looking for a way to end the call.

“Oh, I don’t see how I could help you. I mean, I would have given them a damned good hiding for behaviour like that and if that failed then I’d exclude them permanently.” The dark-haired woman smiled to herself.

The Head Mistress at Mercia Castle School laughed once more.

“I know you would and that’s why I’m asking if you would come and give those boys a good dose of corporal punishment as their last chance before I do permanently exclude them from my school. I really would like to avoid doing that if possible, as it really doesn’t look good, so what do you say, Amelia?” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley waited for the answer.

Miss Marks sat back in her leather chair and thought to herself for a few moments.

“I know you don’t use corporal punishment at your school, Celia – God knows why you don’t, but surely you have someone there who could administer it?” Amelia looked at the clock on her office wall.

She really needed to get moving.

“I haven’t used it at all during my time here. The previous Head Teacher did not believe in it, so it just became accepted by staff and students alike that it was not used here. I have been thinking about re-imposing it though, but none of my staff have experience of ever using it before.

“I guess their Head of Year, Miss Kenworthy should do it, but she’s only young and, like I say, has no experience of doing it. I really would like it done safely but also as severely as possible so that they quickly learn the error of their ways,” the older woman continued.

Amelia Marks took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

“Okay. If I help you out this time, seen as I guess I probably owe you a few over the years, are you sure that they will be fine with it and that parents have accepted what is going to happen to their sons?” Miss Marks leaned forward and flicked through the pages in her diary.

“Oh yes. I think they were a little reluctant when I mentioned corporal punishment, but that seemed to fade when I said the alternative would be an exclusion – they would then be faced with attending the most godawful state schools and I don’t think that their little darlings would cope very well with that at all. I mean, they may be big fish in a small pond here but having to attend any state school would be a real struggle for all three of them.” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley ran her right hand through her hair.

Amelia chuckled.

“That’s true. It’s a whole different experience. Okay. When were you thinking about punishing them?” She had stopped the page of her diary at that coming Tuesday.

“Well, it has already been a week since they returned to school, so I don’t want to waste any more time really. As soon as you are free, I guess.” Celia smiled. She had won her younger colleague over.

Amelia Marks closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

“I could come over next Tuesday morning if that’s convenient. I don’t have anything on the morning that I couldn’t reschedule, so if I said 8.30ish?” She scribbled in her diary.

Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley laughed.

“That would be perfect. I’ll see the boys this morning, or definitely by the end of school today and tell them about what is going to happen to them and leave them in absolutely no doubt that this is their only alternative to being excluded. Plus, that their parents have agreed to it.” She paused.

“If you let me know exactly what you’ll need from us for Tuesday, I’ll make sure that everything is in place for you,” the older woman continued.

“Okay. I shall let you know by Monday morning, but I shouldn’t require too much – a room and a desk usually are enough,” she laughed.

“I’ve got to go, Celia. It was lovely catching up with you and I’ll see you next week.” She watched her office clock tick round to five minutes past nine.

“Thank you, Amelia. I won’t forget this. Goodbye,” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley said sincerely.

“Not a problem. Goodbye.” Amelia did not wait for a reply and put the phone down.

That following Tuesday morning, Amelia Marks drove the short distance from her comfortable home to Mercia Castle School. She smiled as she turned into the car park. Mercia Castle was similar to her school in many ways. It was a mix of old and new buildings and was a successful fee-paying independent school. However, it was different in so many ways too. Miss Marks laughed as she parked her top of the range Mercedes in between two cars and turned off the engine.

Mercia Castle School was so different in terms of its approach to discipline. They did not use corporal punishment feeling that it was unnecessary. Their senior staff simply imposing detentions on misbehaving students and that was about the worst they could do. Amelia shook her head. She really preferred the way she did things. Re-imposing corporal punishment had been the best move she had ever made in her near three years as Head Mistress. She had a great team of teachers who had become extremely proficient at spanking any naughty girl at her school. Most of those who experienced a short, sharp shock did their best to avoid a repeat performance in the future.

The small, dark-haired woman slowly opened the door of her car and picked up her handbag from the passenger seat. She eased herself out of the comfortable leather driver’s seat and closed the door gently. Amelia walked round to the boot of her car and opened it, removing her long, hockey stick bag, which she had borrowed from Nancy Halliday, the Director of PE, the previous day. She placed it over her right shoulder before closing the boot of her car and locking it with her key fob.

The young Head Mistress looked around and soon found the main reception and headed towards it, taking a few deep breaths on that warm and sunny spring morning. Soon she was at the main entrance and pushed the door open before walking inside and taking the few steps across to the glass-fronted reception desk. The blonde-haired woman on the reception desk continued concentrating upon what she was working on for a few moments before she looked up at Amelia and acknowledged her.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” she asked cheerfully.

Miss Marks removed the hockey stick bag from her right shoulder and rested it against the reception desk.

“Hello. I’m Amelia Marks from Alannah Lawrence Girls’ College, I’m here to see the Head Mistress – Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley,” she smiled sweetly.

The woman stopped what she had been doing and picked up her telephone, tapping in a number and smiling at Amelia as she waited for an answer. After three rings, the lady on the other end picked up.

“Hello, Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley. I have a lady called Miss Marks here to see you.” The receptionist looked up at Amelia, who was standing watching her.

“Yes, Head Mistress,” she continued before replacing the receiver.

The older woman looked across at the diminutive Miss Marks.

“If you’ll just sign in there Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley will be out in a moment.” She indicated the visitor’s book with her right hand.

Amelia signed in and stood waiting as the receptionist handed her a visitor’s badge on a lanyard. She slipped this into her jacket pocket and picked up her hockey bag once more, placing it over her right shoulder. A couple of minutes later the door to reception beeped loudly and was pushed open by the lady with the shoulder-length blonde hair. She immediately noticed Miss Marks and the smile beamed across her face as she held out her right hand. Miss Marks took it and shook it gently.

“Amelia! It’s so great to see you after all this time. How are things?” Celia Bellman-Winstanley’s smile grew even wider.

Miss Marks smiled back and adjusted the hockey bag over her shoulder and placed her handbag over her left shoulder.

“I’m good, thank you. How are you, Miss?” Amelia Marks asked softly.

The Head Mistress of Mercia Castle School walked back to the door from which she had appeared and pressed her ID badge against it, smiling as it beeped loudly before pulling it open and ushering the much smaller woman through before her. They walked down the tiled floor until they came to Celia’s office. Again, she allowed Miss Marks in first before joining her and closing the door quietly behind them.

“I’m not too bad, thank you, Amelia. Well, despite this carry-on, obviously.” Celia removed her white jacket and placed it on a hook on the coat rack in the corner of her room before sitting behind her desk.

“Take a seat and we can have a chat. I’ve set this up during first lesson, so we’ve got a good half an hour yet. Can I get you something to drink, Amelia?” she smiled.

The shorter, dark-haired woman carefully removed her hockey bag and then her handbag from her shoulders before placing them down on the floor. She then carefully sat down in Celia’s visitor’s chair.

“No, thank you. I tend to drink far too much tea and coffee these days and am trying my best to cut down,” Amelia laughed.

Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley focused on the dark-haired woman’s long red and blue Slazenger hockey stick bag.

“So, Amelia. What are you going to use this morning? I must admit that I am fascinated by the whole thing,” she smiled.

Miss Marks nodded and placed her hands in her lap.

“Well, I have brought quite a selection really – leather and wooden paddles, leather straps and tawses, my clothes brush, slippers and a plimsoll and of course, a few canes.” She smiled sweetly.

“I would usually start with an over-the-knee hand spanking before using some of my things, but I’m not too sure – what would you like me to do?” Amelia shuffled around in her seat as she looked at her older friend.

“Oh, I think that I’ll leave it in your hands, so to speak, Miss. I’ve got Miss Kenworthy their Head of Year and Miss Wiseman, who was on the trip with them and had to deal with it at the time, to bring them down to Miss Wiseman’s classroom this morning. And you want them to wait outside the room while you deal with them individually, if I’ve got this right?” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley leaned forward and rested her chin in her hands as she looked at Miss Marks.

The dark-haired lady smiled and nodded.

“Yes. Usually, if it were my girls, and there were more than one involved, I would punish them in front of the others so that they can see that they’ve all been dealt with equally and fairly and also, to show them what is coming their way if they are first-time offenders,” Amelia laughed.

“I just think it may be better if I punish one after the other and they can wait outside before and then after they have been punished, if that’s okay?” Miss Marks reached down for her handbag and placed it in her lap.

The tall, blonde-haired lady got up from her chair and walked over to the door.

“That’s fine by me, Amelia. Shall we go and get set up?” Celia looked at her watch.

Miss Marks got to her feet and picked up her Slazenger hockey bag in her right hand. She walked past her older friend and out into the corridor. Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley stepped into the corridor and closed her office door behind her.

“Right, it’s not far to Karen’s classroom, but registration and assembly will be over in five minutes and they’ll be there soon enough. Shall we?” The blonde-haired woman walked off down the corridor.

Once they had arrived outside the classroom Amelia could see that her older colleague had carried out her instructions by placing three chairs outside in the corridor. The ladies entered the large, square room, its desks set out with four sets of two desks joined together on either side of the classroom, a wide aisle between them. At the front of the room there was a modern electronic whiteboard identical to what they had in each classroom at Alannah Lawrence, and in the far corner, beside the window was the teacher’s desk with a swivel chair underneath and a desktop computer the only item on the extremely tidy desk.

“Karen likes to keep her room absolutely spotless – I hate covering lessons for her if she’s away seen as I’m such a bloody mess.” Celia Bellman-Winstanley laughed as she pointed to the highly organised system of drawers and boxes that ran around the walls of the room.

Amelia Marks smiled as she laid her handbag and hockey bag down on the teacher’s desk and removed her navy jacket, placing it carefully on the back of the teacher’s chair.

“Very like Charlotte one of my deputies – she is so highly organised it makes me wonder if she actually has a touch of OCD!” Miss Marks laughed as she turned her attention to the red and blue Slazenger hockey stick bag which she picked up from the desk and began unzipping it.

“Strangely enough, she’s probably the most reluctant of my staff to actually impose corporal punishment on the girls but, when she has to, can really lay it on.” Amelia smiled as she began emptying the contents of the bag out onto the desk.

Celia watched in stunned silence as the desk soon became almost filled with various implements – straps, paddles, slippers, plimsolls, brushes and finally, four different canes, each with a different coloured handle. Finally, Amelia Marks pulled out a pack of antiseptic wipes and laid those on the desk too.

“You’re not going to be using all of those, are you?” she laughed.

The short, dark-haired lady smiled.

“No. But it’s always nice to have a bit of a choice in the matter. I brought my reformatory cane” She pointed across to the much thicker, blue-handled cane lying on the desk in front of her.

“I’d never use it against a student, but it’s always nice to have it on display just to place that threat in their head.” She licked her lips.

“I’ll be using the white-handled cane there – my senior dragon cane. That’s the one I usually use against the senior girls who have been silly enough to get sent to my office.” Again, she pointed with her right hand to the cane on the desk.

At that moment, the door to the classroom opened and the young lady with the blonde hair entered. She was wearing a light grey jumper and black trousers. She smiled at Celia.

“Miss. We’re ready when you are. They are waiting outside like you instructed.” Karen Wiseman then looked at Amelia and smiled sweetly.

“Thank you, Karen. Amelia, this is Karen, who was on the trip with them. Karen, this is Amelia Marks, the Head Mistress from Alannah Lawrence.” The older woman smiled back at the shorter blonde-haired teacher.

“Nice to meet you, Miss,” Karen Wiseman replied and returned her attention to her boss.

“Guess it’s over to you then, Miss Marks?” Celia Bellman-Winstanley laughed.

Miss Marks nodded and took a moment to think about what she was about to do.

“Okay. Well, how about we do it in alphabetical order?” she asked.

The Head Mistress of Mercia Castle school simply nodded.

“Miss Wiseman, can you bring Dylan in then and we’ll get started, shall we?” the blonde-haired woman smiled as the younger woman walked out into the corridor.

She returned a few moments later with the much taller, dark-haired boy who was neatly turned out in his school uniform. He looked nervous and almost on the brink of tears at the prospect of what was about to happen to him that morning.

The sixteen-year-old Sixth Former stood there, trying to avoid looking at the two ladies standing in the far corner of the classroom. Karen stood next to him, arms folded across her chest, dwarfed by the tall, dark-haired boy.

“Right, young man. This is Miss Marks, the Head Mistress at Alannah Lawrence Girls’ College.” Celia looked across at the shorter dark-haired woman before returning her full attention to the tall young man who was trying to look down at his shoes.

“Like we explained to your parents, and to yourselves last week, she will be dealing with you this morning for your dreadful behaviour during the Normandy trip.” She took a couple of steps towards him.

“Your parents have agreed that you shall be punished in this way and, if you refuse, or cause a fuss, young man, then we shall stop immediately and I will take you along to my office, call your mum and explain that you are going to be permanently excluded. Am I making myself clear, young man?” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley continued.

“I know that you weren’t the main protagonist in all of this, but you were involved, and you will be punished for your part in it. I cannot say how angry and upset I am by what you have done and by how you much you have let the school, Miss Wiseman here, myself, your parents and most importantly – yourselves – down with your downright nastiness or stupidity.” Celia spoke quietly but left Dylan in no doubt that she was extremely angry.

She continued to stare at him for a few moments.

“Well. Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?” She continued to walk across the classroom, pausing when she was within inches of the tall Year Twelve student.

After a few moments, he replied almost in a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Miss. We didn’t realise how serious it was. I am sorry, honestly,” he spat out, almost on the brink of tears.

The Head Mistress shook her head.

“Right. Well, that’s a start, I suppose. Now, you will take your punishment with no fuss – no pleading for Miss to stop – because she won’t – and if you cause any problems then you will be excluded. Am I making myself absolutely clear, Dylan Bardsley?” Celia snapped.

Hearing the older woman, who was usually so calm, raise her voice, made Amelia jump.

“Yes, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss Wiseman.” The sixteen-year-old could feel a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes.

Celia Bellman-Winstanley turned her attention to Miss Marks.

“Right, Miss Marks. It is over to you, I guess.” The older woman spoke softly and walked to the back of the classroom.

Amelia Marks nodded and thought to herself for a moment before she spoke.

“Right. Young man, I want you to walk over to the desk over there.” She pointed with her small right hand to the desk nearest to where Dylan was standing next to Miss Wiseman.

“You will remove your blazer, which you will place neatly on the desk, then your shoes, which you will place under the desk and then, finally, your trousers and underpants which you will place on top of your blazer. Do you understand?” The young Head Mistress spoke quietly but firmly.

The dark-haired Sixth Former nodded before answering.

“Yes, Miss.” He then walked over to the desk and removed his green Mercia Castle school blazer.

As the boy nervously removed his clothing, Amelia Marks walked across to the other side of the classroom and pulled one of the grey padded chairs out from underneath a desk. She carried this the small distance into the aisle in between the two rows of desks and then turned and walked back to the teacher’s desk, where she paused for a moment before picking up her clothes brush and plimsoll in her small right hand. She stood watching Dylan removing his trousers before she looked at Celia who stood at the back of the room. The older woman smiling as she noticed the large white plimsoll and small, oval-headed, ebony-backed clothes brush in Amelia’s hand.

As the Sixth Former finished folding up his underwear and then placing it on top of the pile of clothing on the desk, Amelia sat down on the padded seat across from him. She placed the plimsoll and clothes brush down at her left foot and ironed the creases from her knee-length navy skirt. Once she had adjusted the sleeves on her lemon short-sleeved satin blouse, she looked over at the tall Year Twelve student and nodded. It was time.

“Come here, young man, and lie over my knees. Place your hands flat on the floor in front of you, open your legs slightly and make sure your feet are touching the floor.” Amelia Marks sat back in the chair and moved her hands from her lap.

The tall, sixteen-year-old slowly walked over to Amelia and paused as he stood to her right-hand side. He was embarrassed that the small, dark-haired lady could see that he had an erection that was now proudly pointing at her. Miss Marks noticed too but ignored it. She would beat that out of him by the time she was finished.

“Over.” She gestured with her right hand and watched carefully as Dylan complied.

Miss Marks shuffled around on the chair until she was comfortable. The boy weighed much more than most of the girls who she put over her knee, but soon she was happy. She could feel the Sixth Former’s cock rubbing against her right leg but decided to ignore it. She placed her small left hand on his back and raised her right hand in the air. Amelia looked across at Karen, who had walked over to the desk where Dylan had laid his clothes and had sat down. Next, she looked to the back of the classroom where Celia was standing, with her arms folded across her chest.

“Right. No fuss and just take your punishment, young man. Am I making myself clear?” Amelia spoke sternly.

Dylan Bardsley nodded his head and closed his eyes, replying a few moments later.

“Yes, Miss.”

Amelia looked at Celia Bellman-Winstanley once more. The older woman nodded at her and smiled. The young Head Mistress raised her small right hand in the air, took a deep breath and brought her hand down across the boy’s fleshy bare bottom a moment later. It landed with a loud “slap!” which echoed around the room and out into the corridor.

Good, Amelia thought to herself. At least the others will get an idea of what is coming their way. She took another deep breath before beginning to deal with the naughty Sixth Former who was draped across her small lap.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

Miss Marks began by rapping out a dozen, slow and extremely hard, slaps across the centre of the fleshy bottom in front of her. Amelia smiled as she heard the Sixth Former sobbing already. Even most of her younger girls would have kept their composure after such a short time. She decided to push on regardless, ignoring the dark-haired boy’s sniffs and sobs.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

Amelia Marks brought her small, but extremely hard hand down at regular intervals across Dylan Bardsley’s bottom, which had quickly begun to turn a bright shade of pink. He continued to sniff and sob and once his squirming and wriggling had become too much for the Head Mistress, she slipped her left arm under his stomach and held him tightly against her lemon satin blouse. Once she was satisfied, she resumed her hand spanking, determined to cover every inch of his bottom and backs of his thighs.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

After a further five minutes, Amelia Marks paused and did not say a word, instead reaching down and picking up the small, oval-headed ebony-backed clothes brush from the floor. She wasted no time in turning it over and tapping the wooden brush against the Sixth Former’s bottom. Despite his loud sobbing and pleas for her to stop, the Head Mistress tightened the grip she had around his waist and wrapped out two dozen, solid, full-force smacks with the brush which mainly landed across the fleshy centre of his buttocks and most painfully, across the creases in between the boy’s lower buttocks and tops of his thighs.

“Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!”

“Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!”

The small, dark-haired woman with the round, stylish glasses spent a few moments looking down at the red and bruised bottom that was trying to wriggle about to escape from the nasty little brush. It was no use. Amelia was far too experienced to let him off with a relatively light punishment. She simply waited until he had calmed himself as well as using her strength to hold him down to allow her to land her swats with the brush as hard, and as painfully, as she could.

Across from her, Karen Wiseman sat on the desk watching her, fascinated. Miss Marks wasted little time in placing her brush on the carpeted floor and picking up the large, white canvas plimsoll. She squeezed it in her small hand until she was totally happy with how it felt before she began to tap it gently against the sixteen-year-old’s bare bottom. Amelia adjusted her grip around the boy’s stomach before slowly, and painfully, administering twenty-four full-force whacks with the nasty shoe, again targeting his fleshy bottom and the creases in between buttock and thighs.

“Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!”

“Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!”

Miss Marks paused and threw the plimsoll onto the floor beside her right foot. She sat back in the padded chair and listened to Dylan sobbing and crying for all he was worth. The dark-haired woman gave him a few moments to recover before she spoke softly.

“Right. Up you get and go and bend over the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Reach over as far as you can, hold onto the chair in front of you and make sure that bottom is sticking up in the air,” she instructed firmly and watched as the Sixth Form boy awkwardly got to his feet.

His erection had long since disappeared.

Within a minute, the dark-haired sixteen-year-old had positioned himself over the desk in the corner of the classroom and was holding onto the swivel chair in front of him. Miss Marks carefully got up from the chair and walked over to the desk where Dylan was lying. She stood listening to his sniffs and sobs and gasps before she reached across and picked up her American-style holed wooden spanking paddle. Miss Marks calmly walked to the boy’s left-hand side and placed her left hand on his lower back, gently pushing him further down into the desk and applying some pressure to keep him in place.

She drew the eighteen-inch-long wooden paddle with its eight holes in it back and paused. She allowed the sixteen-year-old to take a few deep breaths before she brought it down. It landed hard against the centre of his already red and hot bottom. Miss Marks used all of her strength to hold him down as she administered a dozen, full-force smacks with the heavy paddle which, by the time it had finished its work, had added to the heat in the boy’s bottom as well as starting to bruise his skin. He had howled and pleaded at the top of his voice, but Amelia had ignored him, smacking him with her paddle at regular intervals.

“Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!”

Once again, the forty-three-year-old Head Mistress looked across at Karen Wiseman, who was still watching her from the desk near the door. The blonde-haired woman had her right hand in her mouth and was chewing on her fingernails nervously. Miss Marks smiled at her as she laid her paddle down on the desk and reached across for her white-handled senior dragon cane. She stood up and flexed this in both hands before swishing it through the air several times to get the feel for it and also to announce to Dylan what was coming his way. Amelia Marks smiled as she took up her stance to the boy’s left-hand side and laid the ten-millimetre-thick cane across the centre of his already red, hot and undoubtedly sore bottom. He was crying and sniffing loudly but Miss Marks ignored him, tapping her cane gently across his bottom.

“Now, young man. Twelve strokes with the cane and do not move. If you jump up or place your hands over your bottom then I will start all over again. Do you understand?” She thought about where she would land her first stroke before drawing the cane back. She paused.

Dylan eventually answered through his sniffs and sobs. He tightened his grip on the swivel chair in front of him and prepared himself for that first, painful swipe.

“Yes, Miss,” he sobbed and closed his eyes.

Behind him, Amelia nodded and sent her cane on its journey towards the red and sore bottom in front of her. It landed with a loud “Thwack!” a moment later.

The Sixth Form boy screamed and pleaded but managed to stop himself from jumping up. Miss Marks took her time to administer those strokes, giving the sixteen-year-old time enough to calm himself before landing her next stroke. Eventually, he had a series of six neat, thin red lines, spaced millimetres apart across the centre of both bum cheeks.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

Amelia Marks placed her cane down on the desk beside Dylan, who was crying loudly. She left him there for a few moments and looked across, first to Karen, and then to the back of the room, at Celia, who smiled widely at her. Eventually, it was the older woman who spoke.

“Right, Mr. Bardsley. Up you get, get dressed and go and stand outside in the corridor.” She watched as the dark-haired boy got to his feet awkwardly.

The first thing Dylan did was rub his burning backside with both hands before walking over to the desk where Karen Wiseman sat. He avoided looking at his teacher as he dressed, the only sound in the large classroom being his sniffs and sobs. After a few minutes, the Sixth Former had replaced his clothes and Karen escorted him out of the classroom and into the corridor outside. She returned a moment later with the next offender, an extremely tall boy with dark hair. He stood next to Miss Wiseman as she closed the door quietly.

Again, it was Celia Bellman-Winstanley who spoke. The fifty-two-year-old lady walking slowly down the aisle from the back of the classroom until she stood beside the chair that Amelia had placed at the front of the room.

“Now, Andrew. I’m sure that you’ve heard the sounds coming from this room this morning and I am sure that you are aware of what is coming your way for your disgraceful behaviour while you were representing this school in Normandy.” She placed her hands on her hips and stared at the much taller Sixth Form boy.

“I have your parents' permission to punish you in the way that we have explained to them and, also, that if you refuse or cause a fuss, then like I told Dylan earlier, I will take you to my office and phone your parents right now and tell them that you are being permanently excluded from my school. Do you understand me, young man?” Celia stared at the tall, dark-haired Year Twelve boy.

Andrew French simply nodded at the Head Mistress and then looked at Karen Wiseman, and then finally, at Miss Marks, who had walked back to the padded chair at the front of the room.

“Very well, young man. This is Miss Marks and she shall be dealing with you, as I’m sure you’ve already heard.” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley struggled to stop herself from laughing.

“Miss Marks?” Celia looked at Amelia before turning and returning to her place at the back of the classroom where she stood with her arms folded across her chest.

Amelia Marks pushed her round glasses back to the top of her small nose with the index finger of her left hand and took a few deep breaths.

“Very well. I want you to place your blazer on the table over there – where Miss is standing.” She pointed with the index finger of her small right hand to the table where Karen Wiseman was standing.

“Then take your shoes, trousers and underpants off and place them on the table too.” Amelia walked around and stood to the side of the chair.

“And then come and bend over my knee – hands flat on the floor in front of you, legs slightly apart and feet on the floor. Do you understand, young man?” The young Head Mistress adjusted her navy skirt before sitting down on the chair once more.

“Yes, Miss,” the tall sixteen-year-old replied quietly before walking over to the desk and removing his blazer.

A few minutes later, Andrew French was lying awkwardly over the much smaller woman’s lap. Like his friend before him, he had an erection, which he tried his best to cover with his hands and his shirt, but it was no good. He carefully lay over Miss Marks’ lap, placing his erect cock against her stocking-clad thigh and hoped that he did not have an accident.

Miss Marks smiled at Celia and then at Karen, who had returned to sitting on the desk in the opposite corner at the front of the classroom, before she raised her right hand in the air and announced the beginning of the second boy’s punishment with a loud “slap!” that echoed around the room and out into the corridor.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

The young Head Mistress tried her best to give Andrew French exactly the same as she had given his friend previously, and she concentrated upon slapping the large boy’s fleshy bottom as hard as she physically could. Unlike his friend, Andrew took the hand spanking well, only shuffling around slightly and not shouting and crying as Dylan had done almost from the beginning of his punishment. Miss Marks spent a good five minutes warming the dark-haired boy’s bottom, making sure that she turned the pale-coloured skin a bright shade of pink and even red in places, before she paused for a moment.

Amelia said nothing as she placed her right hand on Andrew’s lower buttock and the top of his right thigh. She took a deep breath and raised her hand before bringing it down a short while later as hard as she physically could with a loud “slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

Amelia Marks smiled as the large boy began to struggle as she ignited the pain across the backs of his legs. He did his best to maintain his composure, but Amelia felt him beginning to wriggle and squirm over her small knees as the pain began to register in his brain. She quickly rapped out a further dozen smacks across his lower bum cheeks and backs of the legs before she paused, bending down to pick up her small clothes brush.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

The small, dark-haired lady carefully slipped her left arm under Andrew’s stomach and pulled him tightly into her blouse and skirt. He moaned, but she ignored him. Taking aim with her clothes brush and slowly, and as hard as she could, smacked the boy’s bottom with the nasty little brush twenty-four times, hitting slowly, and as painfully, as she could, making sure that every part of his bottom, thighs and the backs of his legs, received a painful visit.

“Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!”

“Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!”

Miss Marks threw her small clothes brush down onto the floor next to her left foot and reached down to pick up the large plimsoll. Once she was satisfied, she re-adjusted the hold she had on the extremely tall Sixth Form boy’s waist and took aim. She was surprised that he had not broken yet. Andrew was sniffing and squirming as much as he could but wasn’t pleaded or crying like his friend had been earlier.

That would soon change, Miss Marks thought to herself as she raised the large white canvas shoe in the air, bringing it down a moment later with an almighty “Thud!”

Again, Andrew French did not scream. He bit his lip and closed his eyes tightly as the dark-haired woman slowly and deliberately walloped his already red and sore bottom with the nasty plimsoll.

“Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!”

“Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!”

The young Head Mistress sat back in the padded chair and removed her arm from around the sixteen-year-old’s waist. She allowed him a few moments to calm himself before she spoke, still holding onto the plimsoll in her small right hand.

“Right, young man. Up you get and go and bend right over the teacher’s desk – place your hands on the chair in front of you and stick that bottom up as high as you can for me.” She spoke with a stern tone of voice.

A short time later, Andrew French was bent over the desk as he had been instructed to do by Amelia. She had returned her plimsoll to the floor and had picked up her spanking paddle from the teacher’s desk. She stood, gently tapping the tall, sixteen-year-old’s bottom until she was satisfied.

“Twelve strokes with my paddle and do not move or say anything because if you do then I’ll start all over from the beginning. Am I making myself clear, young man?” Amelia raised the paddle and took aim.

Andrew French turned his head to the left and looked at the short, dark-haired woman. He nodded at her before replying.

“Yes, Miss.” He then returned his head to the desk in front of him and awaited that first painful swipe.

Miss Marks administered this part of Andrew’s punishment slowly. She gave him plenty of time in between each stroke to recover and calm himself, even if, unlike his friend, he seemed to be taking them with a minimum of fuss. She made sure that she put as much force as she could behind each stroke, smiling as the boy lifted his head from the desk as each painful whack connected with his already sore, red and swollen bottom.

“Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!”

Amelia stood at the boy’s left-hand side for a few moments and smiled to herself. She could hear that the tears had started to flow freely and could see that Andrew French’s bottom was a deep shade of red and had started to become swollen in places, especially around his thighs. She laid the paddle on the desk and reached over to pick up her white-handled dragon cane, which she flexed in both hands before swishing it through the air several times. Once she was happy, she laid it across the boy’s large bottom and began tapping it gently against his already sore bottom.

“Now. I shall conclude your punishment with twelve strokes with my cane. Do not move or jump about and put your hands over your bottom otherwise I’ll have to get Miss here to hold you down plus I’ll start over from the beginning. Do you understand, boy?” She raised the cane in the air and waited.

Once again, Andrew turned his head to the left and looked at the short woman with the dark hair through teary eyes. He nodded his head before returning it to his arms in front of him.

“Yes, Miss.” The muffled reply came a moment later.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

Miss Marks wasted no time in administering the caning, rapping her strokes out one after the other, giving the Sixth Form boy a few seconds in between each one. Andrew was crying loudly by this point as the fire burning in his bottom continued to grow in intensity with every swipe of Amelia’s cane. By the time she had finished, just like Dylan Bardsley, Andrew had a collection of twelve, straight, neat dark red lines, six across each bum cheek, from Amelia’s cane.

Once she administered the twelfth stroke, Miss Marks laid the cane down on the desk next to where the boy was lying face down and once again turned to look at Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley, who was standing watching from the back of the room.

“Up you get, Andrew. Get dressed and then go and stand in the corridor outside,” she instructed sternly.

A few minutes later, Karen Wiseman escorted Andrew out of the classroom, the tall Sixth Former still wiping the tears from his eyes. Amelia smiled as she watched the final Year Twelve student walk into the classroom followed by the Head of Year Twelve at Mercia Castle School, Miss Jessica Kenworthy. The young lady looked absolutely pissed off and stood staring at the taller seventeen-year-old student with the shaven head.

“And here is the ringleader, Miss,” Celia Bellman-Winstanley announced dramatically before looking across at Amelia.

The blonde-haired Head Mistress walked to the front of the classroom and stood inches away from the boy who was shorter than her.

“Well, like the others, Brandon, you know what is coming your way this morning as we have explained it carefully to both your parents and yourself.” She shot a quick glance across to Amelia Marks who stood with her arms folded across her chest.

“If you refuse or cause any more trouble then I will exclude you permanently from this school, young man. Do you understand me?” Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley was seething.

The heavily-built seventeen-year-old simply nodded and did not say a word. He already knew what was coming his way, having heard the moans and shouts of his accomplices as they were dealt with.

“Very well. This is Miss Marks, the Head Mistress at Alannah Lawrence Girls’ College, and she will carry out your punishment this morning.” The blonde-haired woman paused.

“You will do exactly what she tells you and you will take whatever punishment she gives you with no fuss, otherwise I will exclude you from this school. Am I making myself clear, Mr. Gormley?” she hissed.

Once again, the shaven-headed boy simply nodded and looked down at his black school shoes.

“Mss Marks. Over to you,” Celia Bellman-Winstanley spoke calmly and nodded across to Amelia. The older woman walked back to the back of the classroom and stood watching.

The young, dark-haired lady nodded at the taller boy and sat down on the padded chair. She ironed the creases from her navy skirt and took a few moments before she spoke.

“I want you to remove your blazer – place it on the table next to where Miss -?” She paused and looked at Jessica Kenworthy.

The young lady with the short blonde hair and the very prominent breasts smiled at her.

“Miss Kenworthy, Miss.”

Amelia Marks nodded and smiled before continuing.

“Where Miss Kenworthy is standing. Then remove your shoes, trousers and underwear and come and put yourself over my knee – hands flat on the floor in front of you, legs slightly apart and your feet on the floor. Do you understand?” Miss Marks stared at the well-built seventeen-year-old.

He nodded back at her and hurried over to the desk that she had indicated to him and nervously removed his clothes. Once he was standing next to Jessica Kenworthy in only his school shirt and tie, he began to fidget nervously. Although it had been his idea to steal the Nazi flag from the museum and then display it from the coach taking them around Normandy, he had heard the shouts and howls with pain as his friends had been punished. Brandon Gormley did not want to be punished in that way. He tried to think of how he could protest and plead not to be punished but instead found his nerves get the better of him and the pressure in his bladder let go as he began to pee all over the floor with nerves.

It took Miss Kenworthy a moment to realise what was happening and she shouted in disgust as she watched a steady flow of pee hit the floor next to her.

“Get yourself to the toilet, you dirty boy!”

Celia walked down the aisle between the rows of desks and gasped heavily as she noticed the dark patch where the carpet had become wet. Miss Kenworthy had hauled Brandon out of the room, and they were gone for a while until she returned with him. She held a light green towel in her hands.

“I think, Miss, that I would put this over your skirt in case he has another little 'accident.'" She looked at him angrily.

The Sixth Former stood there, head bowed, face as red as beetroot with embarrassment. Jessica handed the towel to Miss Marks, who carefully placed it so that it covered her knee-length navy skirt. Once satisfied, she motioned for the boy to come and take his position over her knees, which, after some hesitation, he did. The tears had already started.

“I’ve asked the caretakers to come in over breaktime and try to clean the carpet, Miss,” Jessica Kenworthy informed Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley, just as Amelia’s hard right hand connected with the boy’s bare bottom.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

The dark-haired Head Mistress slapped slow and slapped hard as she targeted the flabby bottom lying over her lap. He squirmed and wriggled, but Miss Marks placed her left arm under his stomach and held him tightly as she went to work with her small right hand.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

The centre of Brandon Gormley’s bottom received a slow and painful visit. He sniffed and sobbed and pleaded with Celia, then Miss Marks, then Jessica Kenworthy, but they all ignored him as the dark-haired Head Mistress continued to spank him hard.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

Another hard dose with Amelia’s small right hand had the larger boy kicking his right leg up as the pain registered in his brain. She simply waited for him to calm himself before resuming her work.

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

“Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!” “Slap!”

Next, the seventeen-year-old’s lower buttocks and tops of his thighs received a slow and painful visit from the young woman’s extremely hard right hand. The more that Brandon wriggled, the more that Amelia slapped him in that same area, smiling as she saw his lower bum cheeks and tops of his legs turn a bright shade of red. She continued for a further five minutes or so before she paused and brought her left arm out from underneath the boy’s waist. Amelia bent down and picked her clothes brush from the floor and gently tapped Brandon’s bottom with it. She replaced her left arm around his stomach and held him tightly as she slowly, and painfully rapped out twenty-four full-force swipes with her surprisingly painful little brush.

“Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!”

“Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!” “Thump!”

Almost as soon as her first smack with her brush had landed across the flabby centre of the seventeen-year-old’s bottom, he began screaming and pleading for his punishment to stop. Amelia smiled and gripped him even tighter. She had seen this many times before as she smacked her naughty girls in her own office. The dark-haired woman placed the brush down next to her left foot and picked up the white canvas plimsoll which she measured out against the boy’s glowing red bottom. She said nothing as she held him over her lap and walloped him twenty-four times with it.

“Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!”

“Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!” “Thud!”

Miss Marks smiled wearily across at Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley and placed the plimsoll down on the floor next to her clothes brush. She removed her arm from around Brandon’s stomach and placed both hands flat on the boy’s back, pausing for a few moments to allow him to calm down. He had cried non-stop almost from the beginning of his punishment and had struggled and squirmed to the point of exhaustion. Once she was happy, Amelia sat back in the padded chair and gently tapped his large bottom.

“Up you get and go and bend over the teacher’s desk – reach right across and place your hands on the padded seat and stick your bottom up for me.” She sat waiting until eventually, the seventeen-year-old obeyed.

Miss Marks carefully picked the towel up from her knees and folded it neatly. She got to her feet and placed it on the first desk in front of her. She then turned and picked up her clothes brush and plimsoll from the floor, placing them on the teacher’s desk, next to where Brandon Gormley was positioned, awaiting the painful finale to his punishment. The young Head Mistress reached across and picked up her spanking paddle and adjusted her glasses with her index finger on her left hand. Amelia measured the large-holed paddle out against the boy’s bottom before slowly, and painfully, administering twelve full-force swats with it.

“Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!” “Whack!”

The seventeen-year-old Sixth Former shouted and cried loudly during this part of his punishment and Amelia Marks grew increasingly frustrated having to pause for what seemed like an age between each swat in order to allow him to calm down and reluctantly resume his position bent over the desk. The dark-haired Head Mistress wanted to conclude this quickly so that she could pack up her things and get back to her school. She looked over at Miss Kenworthy, who was watching the punishment with a look of absolute amazement visible on her face.

If only we could give these ungrateful and rude little sods a good hiding like that! she thought to herself.

Miss Marks laid the paddle down on the desk and paused before reaching over and picking up her cane once more. She flexed it in both hands before swishing it through the air several times to announce to the boy what was coming his way next. His crying and snivelling became louder as Amelia laid it across the centre of his bottom and began tapping it gently until she was happy with where her first stroke would land. Suddenly she stopped and stepped away, looking over at Jessica Kenworthy.

“Miss. Would you mind standing in front of him and holding him down for me, please?” she asked quietly and smiled angelically at the young lady with the shoulder-length blonde hair.

The young teacher nodded and slowly walked across the front of the classroom until she stood facing Amelia. She placed her small hands on Brandon Gormley’s shoulders and pushed her weight down, ensuring that he was going nowhere during the finale to his punishment.

“Thank you, Miss.” Amelia Marks adjusted her lemon short-sleeved blouse and pushed her glasses up to the top of her nose with her left index finger before resuming her position to the boy’s left-hand side.

She wasted no time in laying out the strokes, ignoring the Sixth Form boy’s shouts and cries and pleas.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

Just as Amelia was about to lay her cane down on the desk, she noticed that Celia Bellman-Winstanley had joined her at the front of the classroom and was standing to her left-hand side, deep in thought.

“That’s a very well punished bottom, Miss,” she smiled at Jessica, who was still holding Brandon down.

Celia then shook her head and turned to Amelia Marks. She smiled sweetly at the younger woman.

“Very good, Miss,” she said, ignoring the boy’s sniffs and sobs.

“But, I think as the ringleader in all this stupidity, that he should receive an extra six strokes.” She stepped back and took a few steps until she was standing at the door.

Brandon Gormley began to protest, although the women failed to understand what he was saying due to the tears and gasps. He was cut off sharply by Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley, who raised her voice.

“Quiet. You nasty little boy! We’re not quite finished yet, unless you want to be excluded as well as all of this?”

The shaven-headed boy simply sank back down and cried even louder as Miss Marks smiled at Jessica Kenworthy, who adjusted her hold and pushed down on the seventeen-year-old’s broad shoulders. Miss Marks resumed her caning position – her left foot in front of her right with her left knee slightly bent and her left hand on her left hip. She laid her cane across the red and bruised bottom in front of her and quickly rapped out those additional strokes.

“Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!” “Thwack!”

Once she had administered her final stroke, she walked away towards the classroom door where Celia was standing with her arms folded across her chest. The older woman smiled sweetly at her before she walked across to the teacher’s desk and bent down to inspect the well-punished bottom lying over it.

“Thank you, Miss Kenworthy. You can let him up now and this naughty young man can get himself dressed.” She nodded at Jessica, who carefully stood up and removed her hands from the boy’s shoulders.

She walked across the classroom and stood next to Amelia Marks.

After another five minutes or so, Brandon Gormley was fully dressed in his school uniform. He had been given another pair of underpants which had been brought from Lost Property by Miss Wiseman, who couldn’t hold her laugh in at the thought of the seventeen-year-old peeing himself at the thought of being punished. This was definitely going to make the rounds of the school in record time.

“I’ve asked the caretakers to come at breaktime and clean the carpet, Miss,” she informed Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley, who laughed loudly.

The Head Mistress had then invited the other two boys into the classroom and made them stand in front of Miss Wiseman and Miss Kenworthy while she scolded them severely. She was disgusted with them and at what they had done. They had embarrassed themselves and their parents. They were lucky that they hadn’t simply been permanently excluded for what they had done and the offence that they had caused.

The three boys stood there, looking down at their school shoes. They certainly did not feel lucky. Their backsides were on fire and throbbing like crazy. All they wanted to do was to try and rub the pain away.

As her older friend told the three Sixth Form boys off, Amelia busied herself by walking over to the teacher’s desk and picking up her pack of antiseptic wipes and cleaning her implements before she placed them back in the hockey bag. She picked up her handbag from the desk and placed it over her left shoulder and watched as Celia dismissed the three extremely sorry students. The young, dark-haired Head Mistress picked up her hockey bag and smiled at the other ladies as she was ushered out of the classroom and then back to Mrs. Bellman-Winstanley’s office.

The two ladies chatted for a while over coffee about the events of that morning and how effective Celia hoped it would be. She then broached the subject of re-imposing corporal punishment at Mercia Castle School.

“If we did that, say from next year, would you be able to come and do a training day – or series of workshops to show my staff how to do it as safely, and as effectively, as you have done it this morning, Amelia?” she smiled.

Miss Marks smiled and took a few deep breaths before answering.

“I could do that. I’m sure that some of my ladies, like Melanie, my Deputy Head, or Nancy, the Head of PE, would be happy to come and talk to your staff about it,” she smiled.

“They seem to be the ones who use it the most.”