Six Very Naughty Girls (4 page)

As Helen obeyed, her hands went protectively to her soon-to-be-spanked behind, rubbing her bottom cheeks through the skimpy netball knickers. The headmistress saw the tears in her eyes.

"I don't know why you're crying, young lady. You'll have something to cry about soon enough, I can assure you!"

Helen sniffed and blinked heavily, rubbing the tears away with the palm of her hand.

"Very well! Bend over the desk, like
Carol
and Tara!"

Helen did so; aware that the slipper and the cane were lying just to her side as she did so. At eighteen Helen was fully as tall as the nineteen year old Tara and, like her she had no difficulty in grasping the edge of the desk. The headmistress made her move her legs until her bottom was in the ideal position for punishment.

Helen's maroon knickers were tightly stretched across her ample bottom. Her long, athletic but feminine, thighs twitched nervously. The whiteness of her large, rounded buttocks was accentuated by the contrast with her brightly coloured knickers. She felt the headmistress lean down and pick up the slipper.

"Eighteen strokes, Helen. And I want you to stay in position throughout. If you don't you will get extra. Remember what happened to
Susan
. . ."

With that the headmistress hefted the plimsoll and drew it back before smacking it down hard onto the girl's bottom cheeks.

WHACKK!!

Helen wriggled as the plimsoll smashed down onto her right buttock cheek. Even after what she had witnessed earlier she was taken by surprise by the sheer force of that blow, which knocked her whole body forward onto the unyielding desk. In fact, though, the headmistress was using no more force than she had when punishing the fourteen year old
Susan
. Miss
Masters
waited until the girl's long legs were still and then whacked the slipper down again, just as hard, onto the other buttock.

"
Oww
!"

Helen's bottom was already stinging unpleasantly and the tears had started to flow again. She was only too aware that her punishment had only just started - there were an unimaginable sixteen strokes still to come!

The headmistress continued to wallop the slipper down on alternate sides of Helen's curvy behind. The eighteen year old had done her best to suffer in silence, but she had never been spanked before and the cumulative effect of the slipper whacks was beginning to really hurt. By the time the teacher had delivered six strokes Helen was already howling in pain and yelling at each new whack.

Miss
Masters
was not inclined to reduce the girl's punishment. The slipper would not do any permanent damage - just leave her with a very sore bottom and a few bruises. Helen was a bit of a cry-baby, but that was no reason for punishing her less than she would any other girl in the school.

She paused for a moment and looked at the girl's juddering bottom. Already, after only six whacks, it was no longer so easy to distinguish between the netball knickers and the surrounding flesh, which was now a bright scarlet. Miss
Masters
decided on a small change of tactic. She would aim the next few whacks at the right buttock alone.

The change was a very painful one for Helen. After the tenth whack - the fourth in succession to crash into her wickedly smarting right bottom cheek - it became too much for the naughty youngster. Despite her knowledge of the consequences she lost her grip on the desk and jumped upright. As
Susan
had done earlier she twisted round to face her punisher, her hands going behind her back, her fingers splayed out, trying to comfort her burning bottom.

Miss
Masters
was prepared to give Helen a chance. It was, after all, the first time she had been sent to her for punishment and she had already received quite a sound
slippering
.

"Come on, Helen, get yourself back over that desk. I know it hurts, but you're over half way through now. You've taken ten and you've only got another eight to go. It will soon be all over. Now, bend down again over the desk!"

Helen was sobbing loudly and didn't answer the headmistress, just shaking her head violently. Miss
Masters
took a step towards the weeping girl and Helen backed away. Miss
Masters
was a patient woman, but this was too much. She had her own work to do that afternoon and the netball match, the reason for this performance, would be starting soon. She returned to her desk, ignoring the tearful teenager who was shaking as she continued to rub her tender behind. The headmistress picked up the phone and asked Miss Atkins to report to her study. Then she sat back in her chair watching Helen's
wrigglings
.

"Silly little girl," she thought.

There was a knock at the door. The sports mistress entered.

"This girl is refusing to accept punishment, Miss Atkins. I would be grateful if you could hold her over your lap while I deliver the remaining part of her punishment and additional whacks for this disruption." It seemed that Miss Atkins was going to fill the part taken earlier by Helen during
Susan
's punishment!

Helen allowed the gym mistress to grab her, she knew that there was no further point to resistance. At least she had obtained some respite for her poor bottom. But how many extra strokes had she earned for herself?

Miss Atkins sat on a chair in the centre of the office, where Helen had sat earlier, and pulled the crying teenager over her knees. The strong young gym mistress had no difficulty in holding the wriggling girl firmly in place.

Miss
Masters
rose from her place and walked over to announce Helen's fate. She walked around and grasped the girl's short blonde hair. She pulled Helen's head up to look into her eyes as she spoke to her:

"Well, you are a silly little girl, aren't you? You only had eight strokes to come and now you have refused punishment, wasted my time and wasted the time of Miss Atkins. The minimum number of extra strokes that I can award you is six. That means you have fourteen still to come!"

Helen broke her silence. "Oh, no please miss. Not so many. I can't take it. No, please! Please! I'm sorry . . . oh, please," she blurted out hysterically.

Miss
Masters
dropped the girl's head and walked back around the chair.

Before she could raise the slipper again, Miss Atkins spoke:

"Excuse me, Sophia, may I make a suggestion?"

The headmistress nodded.

"I see that your cane is lying on the desk. Perhaps Helen could receive two or three strokes from that? I don't think she'd be getting off too lightly and the punishment will be over more quickly and with less effort."

Miss
Masters
nodded again. This was a very sensible proposal. She exchanged the plimsoll for the cane and addressed Helen once more.

"Helen, Miss Atkins has interceded for you. Rather than fourteen whacks from the slipper you will receive two strokes of the cane. Your punishment is nearly at an end."

Miss Atkins compressed her lips. Helen's punishment would be over more quickly, but its effects were likely to be more long-lasting now. She was not sure if she had done the girl any favours.

Helen's knickers had began to ride into the cleft between her bottom cheeks and, before continuing, Miss
Masters
leant down and pulled the rest of them up so that the girl's bottom was, effectively, bare.

The headmistress drew her cane back and delivered a hard stroke across the under-cheeks of Helen's reddened buttocks. It was not so hard as the ones Tara had felt earlier, but it hurt like hell as it burned across the eighteen year
old's
tender rear. As it landed a strip of scarlet flesh turned momentarily white, but soon darker red lines were seen on each bottom cheek. The girl howled desperately in pain and struggled frantically across the gym mistress's lap, but she was held
too
securely.

Miss
Masters
paused before delivering the last stroke, watching the contortions of Helen's punished behind. Then she released a real humdinger of a stroke - as hard as any she had delivered that afternoon.

It landed right on top of the previous one and Miss Atkins had to use her best efforts to hold the agonised girl in position. Helen ululated in anguish, sounding like a wounded Indian brave rallying his tribe. Miss
Masters
replaced the cane on the desk.

She allowed Miss Atkins to continue to hold the squirming teenager for a minute or two until her howling had eased off. Then she beckoned to the gym mistress who released Helen and gently set her on her feet.

The weeping girl hopped from foot to foot, her fingers tenderly exploring the raised stripes decorating her reddened bottom. Miss
Masters
asked her to stand still as she unpinned her skirt. Then she reminded her that she was in detention on Monday and that she had 200 lines to do. Finally she asked Miss Atkins to take her off to the netball match - it was just about to start.

When she had the office to herself again, Miss
Masters
replaced the slipper and cane on top of the cabinet and sank into her chair again. Now she could get on with her work, having done her duty by four more naughty girls.

Helen was hurried along the corridor by Miss Atkinson, each step hurting as her
knicker
elastic rubbed against the
weals
raised by that awful cane. Unlike the other girls she was not even given the opportunity to visit the washroom to tidy herself up after her ordeal. When they reached the playing ground her team-mates knew from her tousled hair and tearstained face that Helen had finally received her long delayed spanking.

And as she played it became even more obvious. Helen threw herself into the game and the adrenaline started to flow. As she ran her skirt flew up and the spectators saw her reddened bottom. For the first quarter every time the play slowed down Helen's hands went back to try to comfort her outraged rear.

But she played well and scored four goals. After the match she was feeling a little better and the worst of the stinging had gone. Miss Atkins had been right, playing netball had done her good. Her team-mates were very grateful to her but Helen was never certain that she'd made the right choice.

The students were quiet during
P
rofessor
Jackson
's lecture on the
100 Years War.
It was a private school where the boys wore suits and ties. The girls
’
attire was made up of skirts and white blouses, socks, black shoes and cotton white panties.

As the professor walked around the room droning on about the
kings of France and England
,
Jodie
sat thinking totally about something else. She wasn't sure where her mind was as she sat in the second to the last seat in the middle row of the room.
Jodie
's body jerked a bit as her good friend lightly touched her arm and
Jodie
looked down to take the small white piece of paper that
Sharon
had handed her.

Now it was strictly forbidden to pass notes in class, but
Jodie
took the note and held it down in her lap as she read it. It was
Sharon
's note that she wanted
Jodie
to pass on to a boy.
Jodie
folded the paper up cupped it in her hand and as she reached out to pass it on to the respectful owner. Her hand was grabbed at the wrist.

"What is this we have here...Miss
Jodie
?"

Jodie
looked up, her hand still in mid air over the
a
isle with Mr.
Jackson
holding it. He reached with the other hand and pried her fingers open to reveal the small note. Mr.
Jackson
took the note and read it and then taking
Jodie
by the wrist once more led her to the front of the class.
Jodie
was scared and frightened as she was pushed along the
a
isle.