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Mountjoy's spanking musings Chapter 1: “Thank God !” exclaimed Margaret, the last week of the long school holidays, Milly and Oliver, her two grandchildren had been so good , she had dutifully looked after them whilst her worked. Her car pulled up outside her ’s house, and the two 10 year old , non identical twins, rushed out and jumped in. Liz, her waved from the front window. “Where too granny, where are we going?” asked Milly. “Well, as its our last day before you go back to school, I thought we would go the open air museum, they have a steam fair working this week, with lots of rides that granny remembers well from when I was your age” Seat belts on, Margaret headed out of town. ”The steam fair does not open until two” she informed both “ but we can have a look around, there is so much to see" The pulled comical, almost sullen faces and then Margaret said ”we can then have an ice cream before the fair starts”. Smiles and cheers came from the back seats of the car. An hour later, after taking a tram ride around the site, they all alighted outside the old Victorian School, which had been lovingly restored, it was taken down in the centre of town and rebuilt painstakingly here brick by brick. They entered the school room through a heavy old wooden door, the windows high in the almost church-like room, giving it a coolness in the heat of late August. Simple desks were arranged in rows, and at the front stood a man, in a long school masters gown talking to a group of . In his late sixties, Margaret opines to herself, he is bound to be a retired teacher as well, her sixth sense told her. The parents and and grandparents stood back a little, letting him show the how the pupils of yesteryear used to have to write on heavy slate tablets using chalk. “Go on, go and listen, it sounds very interesting” Margaret said as she sat at one of the benches to rest her feet, and she checked her phone and sent a photo to her of the , riding on the old tram that ran around the site. The School Master was telling the how the pupils were disciplined. He held the audience of young faces with ease, as Margaret glanced up from her phone to see the swish of a long whippy black cane, as the School Master arced it through the air and hit the top of an old school desk. A little shiver ran down Margaret’s spine, as she strained to listen, and then stood and moved forward. The School Master then picked up a thick leather two tailed tawse. It had two tails of leather and he went onto explain how it’s called a Lochgelly Tawse,and was made in Scotland and clearly He knew His stuff as he showed the how the leather tails had rounded edges so it did not draw blood when it strikes. The listened intently, as the tales of the Victorian school room are revealed. By this time Margaret joined the huddle of families as they looked at the well worn and well used tawse, which glowed with a wonderful chestnut brown patina. One little boy asked ”did it hurt”, the older adults laughed knowingly, as the very charming School Master squatted down, and held the boy’s gaze ”it was used for very naughty but it was so cruel, the were routinely hit with it, for the most minor of things, maybe for a silly spelling mistake” he said softly. Margaret looked down at her own two grandchildren as they gazed on fascinated , school was a different world back in the 1950s she mused, thinking of her own childhood, when she was given the slipper across her buttocks for being cheeky in clas., She was ten years old. The heady mix of emotions , humiliation, pain, and a certain frisson of excitement that as a 10 year old she could not comprehend at the time. She had felt a strange stirring, and that night for the first time, her hand strayed gently between her open legs. “Right , break time” The School master stood up and smiled……………” I hope you enjoyed, and for those of you a little older, I hope it brought back many memories, school days were the best time of your life” “Granny, Granny can we go on the fairground rides”, as Margaret was brought back to the present day away from her long forgotten reminiscences. A little flustered ”yes of course, I will be along in a minute, I will see you both by the Helter Skelter” . She tried to look out of the school room windows, but they were too high, all she could see was the top of the merry go round, and the sound of the steam engines powering the fairground. The school room emptied, the hungry, the parents and grandparents followed, as Margaret found herself picking up the Tawse, feeling how heavy it was, and she tapped it playfully over her hand. The feelings washed over her like a tsunami, as she was almost lost in her own reverie, she subconsciously crossed her legs and gently squeezed her thighs, as she felt the tremulous flutters build deep again within. “I can see you have an interest” the School Master interrupted her thoughts as he tidied away the props, Margaret blushed, her soft English rose features turning her face a soft crimson hue. “They were only really used it in Scotland……………..you had it easy” he said smiling, as he let her keep hold of the tawse, her well manicured fingers ran down the length of this long strap of cruel leather. ”I only had the slipper” Margaret volunteers “but I was not a naughty girl” a soft smile breaks out across her face “ I always used to talk too much in class.” She glanced around and saw that they were only two people left in the old Victorian classroom, the School Master and His errant supplicant. “I am sure, like all little girls you were a chatterbox ”He said softly as he made easy conversation, “they still make then today” He said………………….”collectors want them, genuine old ones sell for hundreds of pounds” “Really” Margaret felt again a shiver run down her spine , conscious her nipples were stiffening and hoped they were not visible in her thin cotton summer dress. “Would you like to experience what it was like, how it was administered to school , it was still used in Scotland in the 1980s, you know” as he walked over to the big old wooden door and turned the old key in the lock, the heavy wooden door creaked in its hinges, as the door was locked. “Brace yourself against the desk” He said, swiftly seizing the moment, catching Margaret unawares, as she heard a newly assertive tone in His voice as she stammered in protest” I…..I..I am a married lady with grandchildren” her voice had a delicious uncertainty to it, something he has heard many times before ” hands on the desk, you naughty little schoolgirl” he said, ”but….but my grandchildren” Margaret retorted, her voice more plaintiff now, and then for some inexplicable reason she acquiesced , and tried to gain control ”just one lash of this thing” her mind still raced, as she forgot the name of the tawse, as her hands gripped the side of the desk. “Brace yourself, open your legs” He commanded, as she instinctively slipped into the compliant little schoolgirl mindset, just as she used to do all those years ago. Bending forward, her eyes gazed down at the old pine desk, decorated a myriad of incoherent graffiti written and scratched on it. Then she felt the bottom of her dress lifted and hitched high over her hips, her pretty white Marks and Spencer lacy knickers were on show, hoping the flush of heat and the wetness did not betray her obvious arousal. Then the tawse swished through the air and landed just below her buttocks on the back of her thighs. Margaret let out a cry of pain, as the two tails of dark brown leather struck ,her hands gripped the edge of the desk, as the rich chestnut oak patina of the leather slapped her tender skin with brutal efficiency. Her heart raced, as her fingers braced her body, as she quivered, her voice was tremulous, “another, one more” she said softly, her voice barely audible, as her legs open a little wide and she pushed her derriere back, as the heat of that first strike radiated through her body. The tawse arced in the air, as that second strike was administered with the same ease, the sound of leather on skin echoed in the empty row of neatly arranged old school desks. This time the strike was over the fullest curves of her buttocks, the sensation was sublime, “I have to go, the ” her voice quivered with panic now, her mindset back in the reality of the day, as she stood, her derriere hot, her pulse still racing, as she explained“ I do really have to go” “I do an very interesting adult only talk once a month here in the school room, it’s in the evening, please come” as he placed a small business card in her hand” its all on this card, you would be most welcome, “ His calm measured tones soothed her obvious panic, as He lead her to the door of the schoolroom as she clutched the small business card and placed it in her hand bag. The School Master opened the door, and Margaret slipped out, the heat of the midday sun hit her body, as she felt so alive under the azure blue sky of the is lovely British summer day. [  |
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spankmenice, so pleased you loved the first chapter, the second chapter is now published.
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Lord_Mountjoy1, I was a naughty girl in school, talked too much, wore way to short of skirts, I would unbutton my blouse in class, pull my bra enough to the side so nipple would be out and feeling the pressure of bra against it.. the ruler slide so easily under me, pulling it back and forth, it felt so good when my panties got wet, dragging against lips, forcing its way up between my now red lips... teacher sent me to the principals office.. I would sit out in the hall right across from his office, loved to see his eyes as I opened my legs.. my panties were so wet by then and I could not stop squirming, grinding my wet panties.. he never spanked me... I so wish he would of.. fond memories
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Macha , thanks for the kind comments these is more, its coming soon, I am so pleased you enjoyed.
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What a nice story.... but it ended too soon... I would love to read more and more.... and maybe more..
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Thank you tam, part 2 is on its way, and thanks for your wise words on the story.
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Great effort there , enjoyed
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I am so pleased the story has given you a warm rosy glow.
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wonderful story, loved it!
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thank you so much, this is the first instalment, I am working on the next, when Margaret returns for the evening class., I love your christmassy profile photo, magic.
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