Miss Hardcastle, the Head Teacher, was patiently waiting for Riviera, who was of course late as usual. This would not go down well with her when it comes to selecting an appropriate method of punishment, as she hates having to wait for lazy pupils. Eventually he strolls in, his face already held a picture of resignation in the knowledge he was a doomed boy. Mind you, he loks like that all the time, even in class with his couldn't care less attitude. She was determined to get through to him, so punishment was the only option left to her. A bout of the strap on his hands and bottom might help, but all he did was yawn! Well, like red rag to a bull and his legs would suffer for it !

Mr Greaves the sports teacher had to report to Miss Hastings to explain the serious decline in the school’s sporting standards. “What can I do with the material I’ve got?” he bleated. “Fat girls and smokers.” He had to make allowances but Miss Hastings had a different attitude. He had clearly given in to political correctness. Not doing uniform inspections was too much for her. She asked for his pristine white plimsolls and told him she wanted her pupils to WIN. Never mind the softly, softly approach, she favoured the stick over the carrot. Before he knew it he was over her desk and she walloped the plimsoll on his bottom so hard he almost left the floor, several times. “Seems to work” she remarked. Then his shorts came down for even more painful whacks. “I knew we could come to an agreement” she said.

It was Miss Dubois’s turn on the discipline rota and today there were two individuals for punishment. Summoned to the gym, Gold presented himself first. Taking a chair Miss Dubois sat and put him over her knee for a good spanking, bare-bottomed of course, before taking a table tennis bat to his backside. Continuing with him bent over the horse she progressed to a strap, applied firmly at the Headmistress’s suggestion before giving him six with the junior cane, swished loudly and swung firmly. He had to count them off. After he was dismissed the second miscreant entered. His bottom was bared and he went straight over the horse (he’d been beaten earlier in the day) for a bottom-reddening spanking and the table tennis bat before his dose of that whippy junior cane. Six well-applied stinging strokes should improve his behaviour.

On a shopping trip to New York Peter's wife asked her dear friend Stephanie to keep an eye on her idle husband and house. Stephanie called to find Peter lounging around, expecting his pal for a drink. When asked if she was going to do some dusting she put him over her knee for a long very hard spanking, calling him a nasty, lazy boy then made him kneel on the sofa for a good tanning with the carpet beater. She left to meet a friend and would be back. Later, Stephanie returned. Not only had he done nothing, he was drinking wine. She decided it was time he went to bed despite protests. She felt he still needed a lesson. As he looked for bedtime reading she fetched his trouser belt. Instead of ’40 winks’ she decided on 40 belts, all hard, mainly on his bare and now crimson bottom. He squirmed and squealed but she had no pity and would set the alarm for 5am to check on him before work.

One of the new detainees was sent to Miss Croft who explained how the reformatory liked to keep the boys in ‘caning credits’ to get ahead of their mischief. “No junior canes here, nor crook handled school canes just straight discipline canes” she announced, swishing one menacingly. She ordered him over the caning bench and secured him across his back and calves with stout leather straps. Tugging his reformatory issue jogging pants down to bare his rear she informed him that he would receive two groups of six strokes, took up her stance and proceeded to cane him like he never imagined possible. The agonised sounds he made were pitiful but she had no pity, just more pain. He was crying out during the second six and she made sure the twelfth and final lash of the rod was particularly severe, particularly painful.

An adult student had skipped night classes and admitted ‘girl trouble’. He made a paper dart out of his submission and threw it at her, failing even at that. “It’s pathetic” she chided as she tore it up, “you’re acting like a schoolboy.” He foolishly retorted that she’d want to spank him like a schoolboy, taking the words right out of his mouth. She took him by the ear and bent him over his desk for a spanking but his cheek continued. “I’m going to belittle you” she threatened as she swung the heavy plimsoll. Before he knew he was over her caning stool as she paddled his bare arse. The old heavy leather crop made him wince and the wooden handled strap was murder. A vigorous tawsing over his desk then spanked over his reddening marks. She enjoyed this lesson.

Peter was staying with Miss Hardcastle for the school holidays. He got a temporary home, she got her chores done. Holidays or not, the level of discipline was undiminished. Tasked with washing the pots and sweeping the kitchen floor he preferred helping himself to a glass of pop and reading a magazine. Until she caught the idle boy and smacked his hands with the wooden spoon. When she realised the pots weren’t done she bent him over the sink for a dose of the hairbrush, then, unsurprisingly, down came his school shorts. She went to fetch implements then lowered his underpants and spanked him before laying into him with a heavy plimsoll which made him go “OW” with each swat then she tanned him with her leather paddle. The telephone saved his ass though she spanked him loudly for the benefit of the caller.

Miss Hasting’s home gas boiler had failed and the engineer wasn’t doing much to fix it. At £80/hr he had done nothing and even his tools were in the van. When she challenged him, sitting in the boiler room, sleepy eyed, he said he’d had ‘a little fiddle’ and she became very irate about not being able to use the cooker. He had the regrettable cheek to ask where his coffee was and maybe a sandwich, admitting he’d had a nap to sharpen him up. She said she’d go to his boss and he capitulated. He hadn’t expected to be beaten but she bent him over and tanned his arse with a wooden spoon. Pure agony, no wonder, she was seriously cross. He screamed at the hairbrush and she then gave him a spoon swat for each year of his life – 26. Got the boiler fixed, though.

The Headmistress demanded the janitor attended her study to explain his lack of cleaning while other areas like the girls’ dorms got his full attention. Calling him slovenly and lazy she was on the point of dismissing him from the job unless he agreed to come in on Sunday to clean her room from top to bottom. She demanded he took a weekly punishment, a good spanking and a strapping. “There’s no time like the present” she announced, sat on a chair in the middle of her study and spanked the living daylights out of him. “That’s the first part” she told him then bent him over her desk, trousers down for a strapping that had him howling from the first biting stroke. Pausing for effect, she slipped his underpants down for more of the same then let him go. Until Sunday.

For bunking off cross-country (yet again) Potter had to stay after school for a very long, very brutal reminder not to dawdle again. Over the caning stool she whipped his back hard (not a recognised school punishment but most effective). He started making pathetic pained sounds when she took some serious leather to his arse and he began to breathe deeply. She was going to take sadistic pleasure in this and happily assured him that after school there was no rush. The prison strap, swung with determination at full stretch is a terrifying experience, the blistering cracks reverberating round the room. The old leather crop is almost as frightening (swung as she does). Finally it was over the horse for the cane. There has to be a caning. She adores caning. By the time she was done his arse was crimson and striped.

Her nephew had gone to bed early to do some homework but was reading the racing paper when Aunty came in with his bedtime hot chocolate. He stuffed the paper under his pillow. She told him she wanted to change his sheets as she had heard him wanking the night before (which he denied) and found the paper. She put him over her knee for a blistering spanking then made him take a revision book and lay face down on the bed. She took the belt to his bottom, hard, first on his pyjama bottoms then on his bare rear. Really cross about his gambling he got a right good dose of the plimsoll then she sat astride him, one stockinged thigh each side and hairbrushed him despite his flailing legs. “Have you learned your lesson?” she asked. “Yes Aunty, thank you” he blurted.

Stephanie was dressed beautifully, ready to be taken out for a 25th wedding anniversary meal and impatiently awaited Peter’s return from work. When he arrived it was clear he hadn’t bought her a card, or, apparently, anything else. She was livid, told him to shut up and bend over for a slippering but soon went over her knee for her to vent her fury. She made him pull the sofa out and bent him over the back for an almighty slippering, then made him start counting to 25. Finally allowed to speak he said there was ‘something’ in the dressing table and she went to see. She was so happy when she returned with a pearl necklace and bracelet but a dropped receipt showed he had charged them to her credit card. She took his trouser belt and skinned his arse. She would dine alone at Luigi’s.