{ASSTR 04} Julie and Judy's Schoolgirl Spankings {Big Billie} 
(F/fff spank nc, f/f spank c)

Julie and Judy's Schoolgirl Spankings

A 3-part story of Sally Trubshawe Henderson and Two of her 
Disciples


By Big Billie

(C) Big Billie 2002. Not to be distributed or sold for monetary 
gain.

Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to spanking except 
for consenting adults. However, spanking sexually excites 
him, so he writes about it.




Part the First: Prefect's Prerogative

	I thought that you might like an account from an ex-
prefect about Mrs. Henderson (or Sally, as we girls also 
called her), about her system of discipline, and about the 
prefects' role in it. 

	My name is Julie Baker, and I attended Sally's school 
from 1968, when I was eleven, to 1975, when I was eighteen. 
Since I was reckoned among the brighter girls I took my 'O' 
levels after four years, and was then lucky enough to be made 
a prefect in the September of 1972, when I was fifteen. I then 
spent three years in the sixth form before going off to 
university.

	Nearly all the girls that I know who went to that school 
can remember very vividly, even to-day, many years later, 
exactly how many times they were slippered, how many slaps 
they got on each occasion, and how hard those slaps were. 
Many, like myself, can also remember the circumstances in 
which they were slapped, the reasons for it, and even the 
precise part of the bottom that each slap landed on. I know 
that I still recall that slipper just as sharply as I first 
felt it across my quivering buttocks all that time ago. 
Without wishing to bore you with too many details, for 
example, I can tell you that, in my first four years at the 
school, I was slippered 27 times, and took a grand total of 
172 slaps. Of these, 16 (2 x 8) were "on the bare." Once six 
of us were caught "skinny dipping" in the river that runs 
through the school grounds at midnight on midsummer's day and 
slippered on the spot while we were still in our birthday 
suits. And on another occasion 12 girls, including me, were 
chastised for unruliness in the dormitory, and for repeatedly 
refusing to quieten down when asked. On that occasion, Sally 
was crafty. She punished us there and then and started her 
work on a girl who had just had a shower and was wearing a big 
thick bathrobe. Sally made her take this off, even though she 
was wearing nothing underneath, and slapped her on the bare. 
This then gave her the excuse to strip the rest of us naked in 
the interests of fair play. I, like most of the other girls, 
had my nightie raised. I was then well smacked by Sally right 
across my bare bum. Ouch! I can still remember it vividly, and 
my buttocks still shudder at the memory of it to this day!

	Soon after I arrived at the school at the age of 11 I 
developed a fancy for a girl who was a year older than me. She 
was called Judy O'Grady. Judy was an Irish girl from County 
Clare, and at the age of eleven I had an enormous crush on 
her. I, you see, was of a small, slight build, shy, nervous 
and bookish. Judy, on the other hand, was athletic, tall and 
well built. What really turned me on about her, however, was 
her colouring. Her skin was milk white, except for a mass of 
auburn freckles. One batch of these was centred on her nose 
from where they spread out all over her face. But Judy also 
had freckles on her body, arms and legs, and very fetching she 
looked with them too. As for Judy's hair, it was somewhere 
between auburn and strawberry blonde. It was also very long, 
almost long enough for her to sit on it. But the most stunning 
thing of all about Judy were her eyes. They were bright, azure 
blue and as clear and shining as two sapphire stars. Wow! The 
entire effect was stunning!

	Well, for my first four years at that school I suppose 
that you could say that I was one of Judy's camp followers. In 
the somewhat claustrophobic atmosphere of a female boarding 
school a lot of girls strike up very intense relationships, 
and quite a few of these have a (usually latent and unspoken) 
sexual dimension to them. Well, so it was with Judy and 
myself. I adored her. On the other hand, she was rather 
standoffish with me, superficially friendly but never 
confiding or intimate. There were, I think, three main reasons 
for this. Firstly, she looked down on me when I first arrived 
at the school as just another little "fag" and this attitude 
persisted into later years. Secondly, she was a very 
charismatic girl who had lots of friends. (This was unlike me. 
I had my friends, but often I liked to get away from them. In 
short, I tended to be a bit of a loner, and to brood on 
matters such as personal relationships more than Judy did.) 
Finally, at that stage, I do not think that Judy fancied me.

	Anyway, although Judy never did anything spiteful or 
malicious to me, she brought me grief. I idolised her, but to 
her I was nothing except a peripheral bit-part actress. While 
Judy went her own way unheeding of and insensitive to my 
plight, I would lie on my bed at night and sigh over her. 
Indeed, I was not above shedding the odd tear. Meanwhile, 
other girls got to know, or at least to suspect, my 
proclivities. They did not tease me, but, even worse in a way, 
I became to them an object of pity. For my part, although I 
had no reason to do so, I began to resent Judy's failure to 
embrace me as one of her special friends, and to deplore what 
I saw as her lack of insight and refinement in failing to see 
that she was causing me grief.

	Well, thus I eked out my first four years at the school. 
In fact, my crush on Judy was not my whole existence, and over 
the years I learned to live with it. By the time I was in the 
fourth form I had more or less coped, and I was getting on 
with my life regardless. Then, in the summer of 1972, we both 
did our 'O' levels, Judy because she was at the end of her 
fifth year, me because, as a bookish swot, I had been fast-
tracked to attempt my exams after four years.

	The results of these examinations were interesting in the 
extreme. I was expected to do well, but I did even better than 
that. I got one of the best sets of results of anyone in the 
school, and, as a reward, I was elevated to the highly coveted 
rank of prefect at the unusually young age of 15 years, 3 
months, 2 weeks and 5 days. (I am young for my year, you see, 
my birthday falling at the end of the May before my 
advancement in the September.) As for Judy, she did much 
worse. She failed, among other things, the all-important 
subjects of Mathematics and English. In all, she managed just 
three passes, in Geography, History and Art, and she only 
scraped through the first two of these. The result of all this 
was that, as a buxom sixteen-going-on-seventeen year old (her 
17th birthday was due on October 5th) Judy was sent into form 
5C to repeat her examinations under a strict system of 
discipline enforced by her form mistress, Mrs. Henderson, who 
was also the Dean of Discipline.

	Now the full implications and possibilities of this 
situation did not become fully apparent to me for several 
weeks. But then it slowly began to dawn on me, at first in 
general terms. I would in all probability be in the sixth form 
as a prefect for the next three years. And this carried 
privileges as well as responsibilities. In particular, I had 
free access to the prefects' 'Record of Discipline' book 
together with the coveted right to enter names into it. Of 
course, as a reasonable sort of girl, I resolved to use my new 
authority with discretion. In any case, Mrs. Henderson always 
kept a close watch to see that we prefects did not abuse our 
powers. Every entry in the book had to be supported with a 
specific and bona fide charge against the accused. You could 
not, for example, send anyone for discipline with an 
accusation of "stupidity" or "idiocy" against her name. It had 
to be something like smoking, or fighting, or failure to obey 
a legitimate order that you had given to them, such as 
refusing to pick up a piece of rubbish that they had thrown 
down.

	About three weeks after I was appointed a prefect I first 
made use of my disciplinary powers. The incident occurred 
while I was on "puff patrol." "Puff patrol" was the name given 
to the regular policing of the school buildings and grounds 
that we prefects were required to undertake in order to root 
out surreptitious smokers. This time, while I was on my 
rounds, I struck lucky. I discovered a group of 5 third year 
girls smoking in the bushes at the bottom of the school 
gardens. I promptly confiscated their cigarettes and matches. 
Then, in best refereeing style, I took out my pen and diary 
and booked the lot of them in a section I had specially 
prepared in advance headed 'Infringements', noting their 
names, their forms, the date, and the nature of the offence. 
They, realising that they had been caught red-handed, accepted 
my authority without question, and co-operated in the 
procedures that I took. Thus, although I was very nervous and 
unsure of myself, I pulled off my first disciplinary triumph 
with surprising aplomb. In a short time the malefactors, on my 
instructions, were obediently walking off towards the school, 
looking very sheepish and very sorry for themselves.

	I was genuinely surprised at the buzz that I got from 
this. In the past I myself, from time to time, had been booked 
by prefects, and I had always noted the joyous glint in their 
eyes as they did it. Now, for the first time, I realised 
exactly how they had felt. It was a truly fantastic feeling of 
power. When I next perused the 'Record of Discipline' Mrs. 
Henderson had scribbled '8' in the column marked 'Action' 
against the names of each of the five girls that I had booked. 
So that was what had happened then, I mused. Eight of the best 
with the famous slipper for each of them, right across their 
pert, meaty little bums. Wow! Five eights are forty. Forty, 
yes, forty slaps, with each slap applied across two quivering 
buttocks. So slipper had struck buttock on no less than eighty 
occasions. Even shared out between them, I bet all that had 
really stung! Oh yes! I bet they knew all about that, I 
quipped to myself. And I grinned, broadly and lasciviously. 

	However, when I came to put things into a wider context, 
I was in something of a quandary. I realised now, after this 
incident of the smoking third years, that I enjoyed putting 
girls to the pump - that it gave me a very sharp and sexy 
frisson. But, on the other hand, I felt guilty about it, and 
uneasy that I might use my new powers unfairly and/or 
arbitrarily. Now that it was other people's bums, and not my 
own, that were taking it, I could see the funny and salacious 
side of Sally's sexy slipperings. But, even so, no girl, I 
concluded, should be unjustly subjected to them.

	Eventually, therefore, I came to a three-point compromise 
with myself. Firstly, I would never, I decided, put a girl's 
rump to the pump unless she had done something to deserve it. 
But, secondly, if she did deserve it, I resolved to have her 
slippered, in every single case. I would never, I vowed, 
exercise discretion in anyone's favour, since this would be 
tantamount to corruption, the equivalent of acting like a 
traffic warden who tore up a ticket that she had issued to a 
friend. Thirdly and finally, I promised myself something else. 
Whenever I sent a malefactor to a deserved slippering, I 
would, if I got the chance, give her a bit of a ribbing about 
it. Oh, yes, I would really enjoy myself. I would delight in 
asserting my authority over her. I would tease, torment, vex, 
humiliate and madden my victims in whatever way I could. As 
occasion suggested I would lecture them, ask them rhetorical 
questions about what Mrs. Henderson was going to do to them, 
raise false hopes of a reprieve and then dash them - in short, 
I would do everything I could to make my victims hopping mad 
with me and with what I was doing to them. This, I concluded, 
was justified action on two counts. Firstly, it would 
complement Mrs Henderson's work with the slipper and make it 
more effective. Secondly, it was well horny, and I would love 
every moment of it!

	The next week I got the chance to put my resolutions into 
practice. It was after school one Friday afternoon, and Mrs 
Henderson had asked me to go and check that everyone had left 
the gym changing rooms, and then to lock them up. I obediently 
complied with her request, and went to do as I was told. When 
I got to the changing rooms, however, I found that they were 
not empty at all. There were some girls in the showers, and 
they were all shouting and screaming to high heaven. I went to 
investigate, and I found that two of the big sixteen year olds 
in 5C were engaged in a fight. As the hot water cascaded down 
onto them, they were writhing around on the ceramic floor, 
stark naked, pulling each others' hair, pummelling each other 
with their fists, and lashing out with their feet. Meanwhile, 
a group of eight other stark naked 5C beauties, a group that 
included my old flame, Judy, were egging them on.

	The speed and decisiveness with which I acted in this 
situation was a tribute to just how much self-confidence I had 
gained since my elevation to the prefecture. I rushed to the 
showers and speedily turned off the tap. Then I yelled as loud 
as I could, and in a voice that sounded surprisingly 
authoritative: "What the devil do you girls think you are all 
playing at?" This intervention I noted, to my immense 
satisfaction, was immediately followed by complete silence. I 
then balled out the two miscreants, reminding them of the 
strict rule that there must be no horseplay, tomfoolery or 
similar in the showers. Then I booked them. Next I tore a 
strip off the eight onlookers, including the delectable Judy, 
telling them that their rowdiness was quite unacceptable, and 
that they were very lucky not to be sent for discipline too. 
Then I told everybody to get dressed. I would be back in five 
minutes, I said, and if anybody were still there, they would 
be booked as sure as my name was Julie Baker.

	As I administered these rollickings, I took the chance 
that had presented itself to me to eye up these ten naked 
virgins as attentively as I could. I paid particular attention 
to my old flame, Judy, whom I had never before had the 
pleasure of seeing in her birthday suit. Wow, but all ten of 
them were gorgeous! The two girls that I had booked, Samantha 
Green and Amanda Bennett, were large, strapping wenches, both 
much bigger than me. I eyed up their curvaceous figures, their 
firm, pneumatic boobs, their trim, naked wet tummies, their 
navels and belly buttons, their long, shapely, meaty thighs 
and their hairy pussies with lustful relish, and pondered on 
just how sharp, sexy and amusing it would be when they had to 
touch their toes and present their scantily clad rumps to 
Sally for one of her legendary slipperings. For them, I mused, 
as for all 'O' level repeat girls, it would be 12 each, 12 of 
Mrs. Henderson's very best. Phwoar, girls, I thought to 
myself. I'm glad I'm not in your knickers! I then gave a 
final, lingering stare up and down at Judy's full frontage. 
The sight made my heart knock mercilessly against my rib cage 
and my head swim to the point where I thought I would fall. I 
steadied myself on the water pipe, as I stared transfixed at 
her freckled body, her pert, pneumatic breasts, her trim, firm 
tummy and navel, and her long, meaty thighs. Then my eyes 
strayed to the big, thick clump of auburn hair, slightly 
darker than that on her head, which sprouted voluptuously and 
invitingly from her pussy. God! What would I not have given, 
there and then, to have lovingly stroked that furry ginger 
pussy!

	Eventually, I turned on my heels and left, but not before 
noticing a quizzical and interested expression on the 
beauteous face of the delightful Judy. As I made my exit, the 
girls started a most undignified race to vacate the premises 
by the deadline. I waited outside and watched them as they 
fled. They were still wet, or at least damp, having had no 
time to dry themselves properly. They all wore as many clothes 
as they had had time to put on. The rest of their clothes and 
their other possessions, such as their towels, gym kit and 
toiletries bags, they hastily bundled together and carried off 
in their arms. Within three minutes, rather than the 
stipulated five, the changing rooms were empty and I locked 
up.

	I don't know if you have been told this before, dear 
reader, but another sexy feature of being a prefect was that 
you could, if you wished, go and witness the slipperings of 
your victims. The gym had a spectators' gallery from where you 
were at liberty to view the proceedings. However, as a matter 
of principle, I never watched. I always endeavoured to hand 
down my sentence in a haughty and authoritative manner and 
tried to give the impression that I had no interest whatever 
in the routine details, in witnessing something as mundane and 
everyday as a naughty girl getting her bottom smacked. I had 
far more important things to do, I implied. The idea was to 
get the victim to think that something that was very important 
to her, namely a stinging and humiliating chastisement, was of 
no consequence whatsoever to me. I thus endeavoured to hand 
out my sentences casually and insouciantly, and to show no 
concern whatever for the plight of my victims. "Very well" I 
would pronounce arbitrarily, "I will have you slapped for 
that. Now get out." Or, perhaps, "You will take the pump for 
that. You may go." Alternatively, I might try, "I shall ask 
Mrs. Henderson to discipline you. That is all." And so on - I 
think you must have got the idea. This pose was, I think, well 
sexy, and it often frothed up my helpless victims into an 
excruciatingly sharp vexation. But, unfortunately, it did mean 
that I missed out on the pleasure of seeing my victims getting 
their arses rattled, something in which I was, of course, in 
reality, very interested. Fortunately, I had a friend, Mandy, 
who used to give me full eyewitness accounts. This was not as 
good as the real thing, but, on the other hand, she did have a 
very racy and graphic narrative and descriptive style.

	But I digress. Let me return to the episode of fighting 
in the showers. There were a number of incidents during my 
first year as a prefect when I booked girls in 5C. These cases 
were the highlights of my disciplinary career. You see, most 
5C girls were at least a year older than me, and some of them 
were nearly two years older. They were also, for the most 
part, much bigger and meatier. To them I must have seemed a 
really stroppy, uppity, officious and irritating little madam. 
For 4 years they had ignored me and/or treated me as an 
inferior being. But now the boot was on the other foot with a 
vengeance. Now they had to treat me with respect and follow my 
every command with alacrity - or else! If I told them to shut 
up they had to shut up - or else! If I gave them a rollicking 
they had to take it submissively and in silence - or else! If 
I chose to put them to the pump they had to meekly concur - or 
else! If so instructed, they had to kiss the rod and thank me, 
humbly and contritely, for acting in their own interests and 
dishing out the spankings that they needed and deserved - or 
else! And they dared not cheek me or say a word out of place - 
or else! For the fact of the matter was that this scrawny slip 
of a girl, this Julie Baker, had got them by the short and 
curly hairs of their well-developed and hirsute pussies. At a 
word from me, they would be summoned to the front after their 
next gymnastics lesson, bent over where they stood, and 
slippered hard, twelve times, across their meaty and nubile 
buttocks. In the circumstances most of them recognised the 
balance of class forces and treated me with enormous respect 
and deference. And those who, from time to time, did not? 
Well, I think it is fair to say that they lived to regret it! 
By the end of the academic year the message had got through to 
all of them, and I had them eating out of my hand.

	Soon I read in the 'Record of Discipline' that Samantha 
and Amanda, my first two victims from 5C, had each taken their 
twelve of the best. Next I received a full verbal report from 
my friend and spy, Mandy. When girls were caught fighting, 
Sally's administration of discipline varied slightly from the 
normal. Usually, two culprits would take the pump one after 
the other. But fighters were lined up side-by-side and 
slippered simultaneously. This, said Mandy, was exactly what 
had happened to Samantha Green and Amanda Bennett. Sally got 
them to line up next to each other. She then adjusted their 
relative positions so that she could easily reach both of 
their bottoms. Then she made them touch their toes. Next 
Samantha took four preparatory tail flicks and Amanda took 
five. That was what was needed before Sally was persuaded that 
they were both bending over to the best of their abilities. 
Then whack! Samanatha's bum took it. And whack! Amanda 
received her first spank. Next whack! Whack! Both girls took 
it again.

	Oh, yes, reported Mandy. When Sally slippered Samantha 
and Amanda she really rattled their arses for them. They took 
a full 12 each, and the loud sexy crack of slipper onto plump 
buttock and pussy meat echoed around the rafters. When it was 
all over each girl had jumped up, her pretty face contorted 
with rage and frustration and had vigorously massaged her 
ringing and tingling bum and pussy meat with the palms and 
fingers of both hands in a most explicit, sexy, humiliating 
and undignified fashion. Sally's slipper had certainly had a 
big effect on the two victims!

	(Incidentally, I liked this practice of Sally's of 
smacking fighters together. At least, as you took it, you had 
the satisfaction of knowing that your enemy's bottom was 
tingling just as sharply and just as infuriatingly as yours 
was!)

	But I digress. The point I was making was that I felt 
enormously empowered at the way I had put the buttocks of 
Samantha and Amanda to the pump. I had actually done it! They 
were a lot bigger and older than I was. But, big and well 
developed as they were, I, a thin, slight, youthful stripling, 
had nailed those two large and lusty ladies. I had stitched up 
that pair of strapping, meaty, nubile wenches good and proper! 
Wow, but had I scorched their tails for them! I had singed 
their minges and no mistake!

	As might have been expected, Samantha's and Amanda's 
comeuppances had a big effect on their classmates in 5C after 
they had witnessed them. They clearly did not want to be 
suckered like that, or to take what had been dished out to 
those two beauties. From that day onwards, the girls of 5C 
treated me with a new respect and deference!

	That autumn we enjoyed a glorious period of Indian summer 
that lasted from mid-September until late October. During it, 
I basked in the reflected glory of my 'O' level triumphs and 
relished my new sixth form freedoms. I was really enjoying 
just being alive, walking through the college grounds, 
strolling in the woods, sauntering along the river, and so on. 
As a sixth former and a prefect I was given more freedom to 
roam at will than I had previously enjoyed, and I made good 
use of it. I particularly liked watching the school hockey 
games on the sports fields on Saturday afternoons. I have 
always liked big, strapping, sporty girls. My favourite of all 
of them, of course, was still Judy O'Grady. She was a regular 
in the hockey team and a major reason why I was always to be 
found among the spectators.

	I myself have never been good at sports. I am slight of 
frame and this, plus a natural timidity and fear of physical 
pain and danger, has always ruled me out as a credible 
sportswoman. But Judy was different. Unlike me, she was big 
and powerful, with an easy strength and a graceful ability at 
all energetic pursuits. She also had a very contrasting 
temperament. To me the pleasure of victory was not worth the 
effort, pain and risk of physical injury. I much preferred my 
books and my intellectual pursuits. But Judy was different. On 
the hockey field she was totally committed and utterly 
fearless. Knocks and tumbles meant nothing to her as she 
fought like a tigress for her team and urged on her colleagues 
to victory. In circumstances in which I would have been a 
physical coward she was brave and resolute. I had always 
admired her for this. I suppose it is the attraction of 
opposites. I remember vividly one close fought game against a 
team of local rivals that was played in mid-October 1972, 
shortly after Judy's 17th birthday. At half time we were 2-0 
down. By full time, however, after a heroic fight back, we had 
pulled off a 3-2 victory. In the last half hour of that match, 
Judy was an inspiration at the heart of our defence, cutting 
out opposing attacks, feeding the ball forward, and generally 
marshalling the troops. By the time of the final whistle she 
was hot, sticky and caked in sweat. Her elbows, knees and kit 
were all well grassed and earthed, and she had taken a couple 
of very nasty knocks from opponents' sticks. I do not usually 
get very involved when I am watching matches, but even I was 
screaming frantically from the touchline during the last 
quarter of an hour of play.

	At the end of the game, Mrs. Henderson ran onto the pitch 
and embraced all the girls ecstatically. She is not very big 
herself, but, even so, she lifted several of them into the air 
in her delight. Many of the spectators ran onto the pitch too, 
including myself, to hail our heroines. Then, as I added my 
congratulations, something happened that I was not expecting. 
As I went to compliment Judy, she ran over to me 
enthusiastically, stooped down, threw her arms around my upper 
thighs just below my bottom and lifted me high into the air. 
"Well done, Julie!" she cried, in that lilting Irish brogue of 
hers. "You should cheer us on like that more often! It 
certainly worked that time!" Then she replaced me onto the 
ground and, putting both of her arms around my waist, she gave 
me a big hug.

	At the time, I was stunned by this, since Judy had never 
done anything so intimate or so unreservedly friendly to me 
before. Clearly, here was a generous and openhearted girl who 
had taken my disciplinary exploits in the showers in good 
part. But was there more to it than this? Certainly, since the 
bookings in the showers, Judy seemed to be noticing me and 
paying me more attention. Then there was the way that she had 
looked at me in those showers. Until then, I do not think that 
she had any idea that I could actually pull off something like 
that, that I could reduce ten screaming ladies to silence in 
an instant, book two of them, ball the lot of them out, and 
then send them all scurrying away with their tails between 
their legs. That look in her eyes as she had stood there naked 
in the showers had signalled a new respect for me and also, 
dare I say it, a new admiration. Judy now realised that I was 
not just a thin, scrawny swot, a timid nonentity. I had a 
personality that was different from but, in its way, just as 
strong and distinctive as her own. As I say, Judy was taking a 
new look at me, and I think that she liked what she saw.

	But life, dear readers, is never easy, and there soon 
came an event that was to put me to the test and throw me into 
turmoil. One Friday night I was again allocated to the "puff 
patrol" by Mrs. Henderson, to help her to check for 
clandestine smokers. The nights were now closing in, and the 
cover of darkness gave the girls more opportunities to take a 
quick drag without getting caught. Mrs. Henderson had a good 
idea that something was going on somewhere and so five of us 
were asked to patrol a number of possible venues at around 
7.30 p.m. My patch was the large shrubbery in the garden. It 
was now early November, and there was a cold nip in the air. 
So I wrapped up warm in my jeans, sweater and scarf, took my 
hand torch and set off.

	I liked these anti-smoking patrols. There was all the 
thrill of the chase and, if you were lucky, the sharp sexual 
frisson of booking one or more culprits. And when you "put a 
rump to the pump" for a smoking offence you had the added 
satisfaction of knowing that fur would fly. Sally hated 
smoking and really laid into girls who were caught at it. The 
difficulty, however, was that first we had to apprehend them, 
and this presented problems, especially when the offenders 
were protected by the cover of darkness.

	On this occasion I thought that my best chance of success 
was to adopt a "softly, softly" approach. So I crept into the 
middle of the bushes, sat down on a small collapsible stool 
that I had brought with me and waited with, I might add, 
little hope of success. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, and then 
half an hour passed. I was on the verge of giving up and going 
back to my study. But then, suddenly, my luck changed. I heard 
the scrape of a match onto sandpaper and saw the sharp, 
bright, exploding yellow and orange flare of igniting 
brimstone. I crept towards the light. Soon the match was 
extinguished, but I could still see the hot red tip of a 
lighted cigarette. I managed to get within two or three feet 
of the culprit before she knew I was there. Then, just as I 
heard her start and, through the darkness, saw her turn 
towards me, I switched on my torch and shone it full into her 
face. It was then that I discovered the awful truth. I had 
bagged Judy O'Grady.


Part the Second: Dominatrix in the Dumps

	I was stunned at this development. I hated smoking 
myself, and I was particularly shocked that I should have 
caught Judy at it. This was not the image that I had built up 
of the clean-living, healthy and athletic Irish girl. My first 
reaction, therefore, was one of outraged anger, as I followed 
the stipulated procedure and confiscated her cigarettes and 
matches. Judy herself was clearly very miffed and shocked that 
she had been caught out. But, on the other hand, it had taken 
the wind out of her sails and she gave me no opposition. For 
my part, I did not know what to do next. I knew what I ought 
to have done. I ought to have booked Miss O'Grady there and 
then and ordered her back into school, just as I had done with 
the smoking third years. But instead I decided to buy some 
time. "Outside my room" I said briskly, "tomorrow morning, 
seven o'clock." With which parting shot I biffed off.

	When I got back to my study bedroom I went straight to 
bed to ponder things over. What, I thought to myself, was I to 
do now? Judy was an absolutely fabulous girl and, despite her 
rebuffs and lack of interest, I still fancied her something 
rotten. Did I really want her to take 12 hard slaps from Mrs 
Henderson's slipper across her shapely freckled bottom? Did I 
really want to subject her to that stinging indignity? On the 
other hand, I had promised myself that if any girl ever 
deserved a slippering I would put her to it without fear or 
favour. And without doubt, in my view, Judy O'Grady deserved 
to be slippered, and slippered hard.

	These were my first thoughts. But as the night went on I 
had others. One recurring theme was my sense of anger and 
disappointment that someone who seemed as pure, clean and 
healthy as Judy should be putting her health at risk and 
polluting her body with a dangerous and dirty narcotic 
substance. For that, I concluded, and for ruining my idealised 
image of her, I should put her to it. She also, in her own 
long-term interests, needed to be taught a strict, sharp 
lesson not to smoke again.

	Then I had a number of other, more personal and sexy, 
thoughts. Had not, I thought, this Irish girl been keeping me 
at arm's length and dismissing me as a person of no importance 
for the last four years? Had she not, by her uncharitable 
refusal to proffer close friendship, made me an object of pity 
among my peers? Would not a 12-spank slippering be a rather 
saucy and amusing comeuppance for her? Would it not teach her 
a sharp and sexy lesson? Would it not show my peers, once and 
for all, that, much as I liked Judy, she could not ride 
roughshod over my feelings, and that if she did I would exact 
my revenge?

	It took me about four hours to reach a final conclusion 
on all this. Yes, I concluded, I would put Miss O'Grady's rump 
to the pump. And when I did it, it would give me great 
pleasure. I also resolved to tease and torment her as 
mercilessly as I could. I realised that this would in all 
probability end any hopes that I ever had of making Judy my 
close and true friend, but what the hell. I had had little 
success on that score in the past, and I was unlikely to get 
much more in the future, whether I had her arse walloped or 
not. Yes, I concluded, you, Miss O'Grady, are going down!

	At 7 a.m. prompt on Saturday morning there was a knock on 
my door. I had purposely decided that at that point I would 
still be luxuriating in bed, and that, indeed, was where I 
was. "Come in!" I shouted sleepily. It was, of course, Judy. 
"Oh, it's you" I murmured, in mock surprise. "Wait outside, 
please." I then left my victim to sweat for ten minutes or so 
while I slowly got out of bed. Then, wearing my short, 
diaphanous baby doll nightie (it scarcely covered my pussy), 
and carrying a large towel and my toiletries bag, I opened the 
door and flounced off past Judy down the corridor. "Stay 
there" I shouted over my shoulder. "I'll be back soon." Well, 
I suppose it all depends what you mean by soon. In fact, it 
was more than 20 minutes before I returned to my room, with my 
large towel wrapped around me just above my tits, after my 
leisurely shower. This meant that, for more than half an hour, 
Judy had suffered the humiliation and embarrassment of an 
enforced wait in the corridor, while other girls had been 
walking past her and smiling at her discomfiture. "O.K." I 
said. "You had better come in."

	Judy was clearly trying to impress me with how good she 
could be. She was smartly dressed in full school uniform of 
blazer, skirt and tie, even though, on Saturdays, this was not 
required by the school rules. She had showered herself and her 
hair had been dried, combed and fixed with ribbons and grips. 
In short, she looked as though butter would not melt in her 
mouth. She was clearly miffed that I had nonchalantly kept her 
awaiting my pleasure for over half an hour. Normally at around 
7 a.m. on a Saturday morning no girl would have been waiting 
outside a prefect's room dressed to the nines like that unless 
she had been summoned on some disciplinary rap. All the by-
passers knew that, and Judy must have felt a right Charlie 
standing there for half an hour like the fairy on the 
Christmas tree while they gawped, grinned and sniggered at her 
predicament. It had clearly miffed her, as I had intended it 
to, but, nevertheless, she tried as hard as she could to 
conceal this from me. I could see that I had her worried, and 
that she was doing all in her power to try to avoid the fate 
that lay in store for her.

	I courteously offered my unwilling guest an armchair. I 
don't think that she wanted to take it, but she construed my 
request as an order and meekly complied with it. Then, slowly 
and deliberately, I stood in front of her, seductively removed 
the towel from around my tits and started to rub my back with 
it. This left the seated Judy with an uninterrupted, crotch 
level, full frontal view of my naked wet body, tits, thighs, 
midriff, belly button, hairy pussy and all. "Well," I asked 
abruptly, "What have you got to say for yourself, then?"

	The answer was, not much! I, on the other hand, had 
plenty to say. I told Judy how disappointed I was at what she 
had done. I explained that for my first four years at the 
school I had always looked up to her and admired her as a 
clean living role model. I went on to stress the serious 
health risks of smoking. Really, I concluded, what I ought to 
do was quite clear. It was in Judy's own best interests to 
stop smoking. As a prefect, I explained, I had a duty of care 
towards girls in lower forms. It was my job to protect them 
and to look after them. In this case, it was my responsibility 
to stop her smoking, or, if I could not do that, to curtail 
her smoking activities as much as I could.

	All the time I was talking to Judy, I continued to stand 
before her, stark naked, and to dry myself. Slowly and 
luxuriantly I rubbed my tits, my navel, my pussy and my upper 
and inner thighs and legs with the towel, giving my victim as 
good a view as I could of quivering nubile flesh, freshly 
massaged to a healthy pink colour by the soft and seductive 
abrasiveness of the towel.

	I was gratified to see that Judy was eyeing me up with an 
interest greater than the casual. Indeed, I concluded that she 
was, in fact, getting as good an eyeful of me as she could. 
For I dear readers, at that age, had a petite and boyish 
figure that was not without its attractions or its admirers. 
My tits were fairly small, but pert, my waist was slim, my 
calves were shapely and my thighs and bum were trim but 
deceptively meaty. Judy was looking hard and I think she liked 
what she saw.

	"If our positions were reversed, what would you do with 
me?" I asked, as I continued to shamelessly flaunt my naked 
body.

	To this I got no answer. "Do you want me to send you to 
Mrs. Henderson?" I continued, as I lifted my right foot onto 
an adjacent chair and began to dry my shin and the meat of my 
calf.

	"No, Miss Baker," answered Judy in a small, contrite 
voice.

	This was the first time in my life, I think, that anyone 
had ever referred to me deferentially as "Miss Baker." In 
different circumstances I would have preferred Judy to be more 
friendly and informal with me, but, in the present situation, 
her respectful and deferential mode of address gave me a real 
buzz.

	"Tell me," I went on as I proceeded to lift my left foot 
onto the chair and to towel my other shin and calf, "Why do 
you do it, this smoking?"

	Judy sat there, with her hands clasped in front of her, 
and fidgeted uneasily. Her posture and attitude was totally 
compliant and submissive. You would never have guessed that 
this was the same girl who only a week ago had been so 
assertive, brave and combative on the hockey field. There, 
sitting in my armchair, was this big, strapping, lusty lady, 
who must have been at least 5 feet 10 inches tall, dressed in 
her school uniform and meekly submitting to my enthusiastic 
tongue lashing like a naughty little girl. Then she gazed down 
at the floor and, blushing a fetching shade of pink under her 
freckles, she shook her head. "I don't know," she mumbled.

	Anyway, to cut a long story short, I continued to give 
Judy GBH (grievous bodily harm) of the earhole for some time. 
In all I should say that I must have subjected her to my 
verbal assaults for at least fifteen minutes as I finished 
drying myself and then slowly started to get dressed in front 
of her.

	"Well then" I concluded. "What am I to do with you?" I 
paused for effect. Then I took Judy's cigarettes and matches 
from off the table and waved them in the air in front of her 
face. "You realise, don't you, that I have no intention, in 
your own interests, of giving these back to you. But I suppose 
that I could just destroy them instead of handing them over to 
Mrs. Henderson. Would you like it if I did that?"

	"Yes, Miss Baker" mumbled Judy contritely.

	"Yes, I bet you would" I replied impassively. "On the 
other hand, would that really do you any good?" At this point 
I paused to tug on my knickers. "I doubt it. Tell me, how do 
you feel about taking the slipper? Don't you think that it 
would do you good, that it is in your own best interests?" To 
this question, Judy, yet again, gave no answer. In the 
meantime, I slipped on my bra. Then I stood there before her 
in my bra and panties while I continued my address.

	"Yes," I continued, warming to my theme. "Mrs Henderson 
whacks you big 5C girls hard, doesn't she? It's 12 slaps every 
time, isn't it? I have only ever taken 8 myself. I bet a full 
12 of the best must really sting and tingle. And the bigger 
you are, the sharper you catch it. Mrs. Henderson really 
enjoys her work, doesn't she? She loves slippering you big 
sixteen and seventeen year olds. Wow! I bet she would really 
love to lay into you, Judy O'Grady! Whack! Whack! Whack! Even 
now I can hear the slaps re-echoing around the gym. Yes, I can 
see your bottom quivering and wobbling. I can imagine the 
scene, when its all over and you are in the showers, with the 
other girls eyeing up the red marks across your freckled rump 
and giggling to themselves."

	And so on. Of course, half way through this peroration, 
Judy realised that I was winding her up and that, as sure as 
eggs were eggs, she was going to have to take that slippering. 
But, to my distinct surprise, she did not show any anger or 
resentment.

	"Very well, Miss O'Grady," I concluded. "That will be 
all. You richly deserve to be slippered, and you need it to 
bring you to your senses. I shall be handing these cigarettes 
and matches to Mrs. Henderson and listing you for discipline. 
You may go." In turn, this was the first time that I had ever 
referred to Judy as "Miss O'Grady." To this day I am not sure 
whether it was better than the more intimate and, in this 
context, condescending mode of address "Judy." But I did it 
because I wanted to stress that this was an official spanking 
that I was putting her to. It was not personal. (Like hell!) I 
was merely doing my job. Anyway, I finished off by putting my 
hands on my waist in a posture that was both resolute and 
determined. Finally, still dressed only in my bra and panties, 
I looked Judy firmly in the eye until, confused and blushing 
profusely, she turned from me and made her exit.

	It was the following Tuesday afternoon that Judy took the 
slipper. So we both had it to look forward to for three and a 
half days, me with amusement and relish, Judy with 
apprehension. On that Tuesday afternoon, it was one of the 
hardest things that I have ever done not to go and see Judy 
take that slipper. Oh, wow, that I would have loved to see, or 
so I thought before the event.

	But when Mandy gave me the usual full account, my mind 
was changed. I was told that Judy was the only girl down for 
the pump that day, and that Mrs. Henderson had really enjoyed 
herself with her. It was, Mandy reported, a classic spanking, 
administered with vigour and skill. Judy had taken it bravely 
and like a brick. She had strode to the front in a determined 
fashion, and took what was dished out in silence. Afterwards, 
her face did not flinch and her eye did not flicker as she 
returned to her place, and, as hard as Mrs. Henderson had 
whacked her, she bravely and resolutely refused to rub her bum 
afterwards. Her bottom, said Mandy, must have been tingling, 
stinging and ringing like a bell, but she took it all 
stoically.

	I should have been amused and sexually stimulated by this 
account. But I was not. Instead, I was mortified. Judy had 
taken her punishment far more bravely than I, poor cowardly 
creature that I was, could ever have managed. If it had been 
any other girl I would indeed have grinned and giggled 
lasciviously. But this was my Judy who had been so brusquely 
and rudely dealt with, and it was me who had set her up for 
it. Oh, my poor darling, I thought, what have I done to you? 
You are so beautiful, generous and brave, and yet I was so 
spiteful and nasty to you.

	In the weeks that followed my anguish over the incident 
increased. Nevertheless, I was in a quandary. I knew that what 
I had done was just and correct, and yet I was sorry that I 
had done it. I was also certain that Judy, generous and 
openhearted as she was, could never forgive or forget either 
what I had put her to or my teasing and humiliating treatment 
of her. Any hope of friendship between us, I concluded, was 
now at an end. As I pondered over all this, I began to feel 
utterly miserable. I did everything I could to avoid Judy, and 
I no longer went to watch her play hockey on Saturday 
afternoons. A few weeks later the autumn term ended and I went 
back to my family for Christmas in a sober, serious, 
reflective and sorrowful frame of mind.

	When the Spring Term started in the January of 1973 I 
continued to try to avoid Judy, and, when we did run into each 
other, I shunned conversation and eye contact. In short, I was 
ashamed. I had a bigger crush on her than ever as a result of 
the incident. Yet I had written off any hope of a 
relationship. As if she were an ex-boyfriend, I just tried to 
blot her out of my mind and to get on with my life without 
her. But, oh, that was so difficult. By now I fancied her so 
madly that I ached.

	As I have said before, dear readers, life is never easy. 
Whenever you are down or in difficulty you can usually rely on 
a malignant fate to give you another kick. Well, that is 
exactly what happened again. Since Judy's spanking I had got 
to hate being on "puff patrol." But that did not stop Mrs. 
Henderson from putting me to it, particularly since, with a 
total bag of 6 victims during the previous term, she had 
clearly come to the conclusion that I had a talent for the 
work.

	Thus it was that, in early February, I was doing my 
rounds as instructed. This time it was about 8.30 p.m. on a 
dark night and I went to investigate in one of the standard 
places, around the back of the pavilion in the sports field. 
It was a mild but windy night with broken clouds scurrying 
across the sky and from time to time obscuring a thin crescent 
moon. Luckily, although I am physically timid, I have never 
been afraid of the dark so I crept stealthily across the field 
to the front of the large wooden building and then strode 
purposefully round to the other side of it. As I did so, I 
almost walked straight into Judy O'Grady. Worse still, just as 
last time, she had a lighted cigarette between her lips.

	I was utterly mortified by this development, especially 
since I was forced to think so fast. I acted on instinct, and 
my instinct was to book her, even though this time I took no 
delight at all in doing it. Instead, I wished that I had 
looked somewhere else where I would have been less likely to 
make a catch. Anyway, I still decided to do what I had to do 
as a good and honest prefect. I played it by the book, but it 
took me all my time to prevent my voice from catching. I shone 
my torch into the culprit's face.

	"Is that you, Judy?" I asked, and my voice sounded 
regretful and sad.

	"Yes, Miss Baker," she replied dully.

	I looked closely into Judy's face, but it told me 
nothing. 

	"You know what this means, don't you?" I asked, trying to 
sound impassive.

	"Yes, Miss Baker."

	The legalistic "Miss Baker" bit only served to upset me 
more. It brought to mind the words of an old pop song that I 
used to like about the break-up of a romantic relationship: 
"It's a legal matter from now on."

	Anyway, I did what I had to do. I confiscated Judy's 
cigarettes, plus an expensive lighter that she had acquired 
over Christmas, and booked her. Then I told her to get back 
inside the school before sadly returning to my own room.

	This time the matter was over more quickly. I booked Judy 
on a Monday night. I knew that if I prevaricated my resolution 
might give way, so that same night I gave the confiscated 
goods to Mrs. Henderson and entered Judy's name in the Record 
of Discipline. The following afternoon Judy took the pump 
again. This was her second smoking offence in a few months. 
According to Mandy, Mrs Henderson seemed angry with her and 
she whacked her hard. I was mortified, but also fascinated by 
Mandy's account, and got her to expand on it. For the second 
time the thing that really struck me was Judy's physical 
courage in taking her punishment bravely and without flinching 
or rubbing herself. Yes, you would have done, my darling, I 
thought to myself, and I recalled again all those occasions of 
valour that she had displayed, over the years, on the hockey 
field. In the following days my misery was made worse by other 
girls constantly congratulating me on my supposed coup, and on 
the fact that I had bagged the strapping and sexy Judy O'Grady 
twice in the space of a few months. Oh, yes, in the sixth form 
common room there was a lot of loud guffawing at the lusty 
Judy's sharp comeuppances, and a fair amount of praise for me, 
as the girl who had twice put her to it. My friend Mandy, who, 
I think, suspected my crush on Judy, was particularly 
complimentary. The disciplining of 5C was, for obvious 
reasons, an event that a lot of the girls went to witness, and 
they seemed to have particularly enjoyed watching the big, 
buxom and beautiful Judy O'Grady brought to heel.

	Now that, as I saw it, any hope of befriending Judy was 
at an end I actually felt a bit better about things, and I 
started to try to pull the strands of my life together again.

	Then there came a bombshell. A few days later, I was 
sitting in my room listening to the radio when there was a 
knock on my door. "Come in" I shouted, and waited with 
interest to see who it was. To my amazement the person who 
entered my room, looking very nervous, was Judy O'Grady.

	"Could I have a few words?" she asked quietly, in her 
soft Irish accent.

	"Of course," I said, nonplussed at her visit. "Come along 
in." And I switched off the radio.

	Judy entered and was soon ensconced in an armchair. 
"Tea?" I asked, "or coffee?" The offer was intended to put 
Judy at her ease, since she seemed very tense and unsure of 
herself. Judy seemed grateful and relieved at my offer. She 
opted for tea. Soon I had a pot of it in front of us, and we 
were waiting for it to brew.

	To relieve the tension, I tried to make polite 
conversation. "How has the hockey been going lately," I asked.

	When once I got Judy going she loosened up a lot and we 
spent between 15 and 20 minutes in small talk. It was obvious 
from her demeanour, however, that this was not the main reason 
that she had called. She wanted to say something, and was 
finding it difficult to get started. I tried to help her.

	"Judy," I said, "Is anything the matter, or is there 
something I can help you with?" And I looked, long and 
sympathetically, into her stunning bright blue eyes.

	"No, no," she answered. "What I really called for was to 
tell you that I have decided to give up smoking. I thought you 
might be interested."

	I smiled happily. "Of course I'm interested" I replied 
warmly, "I am very pleased, in fact I'm delighted, at the 
news."

	"I also came for another reason," Judy continued. I 
waited expectantly for her to continue, at the same time 
looking into her gorgeous blue eyes again, with an expression 
of genuine regard and fondness on my face. Meanwhile, my heart 
was pounding as I realised that I had far from succeeded in 
putting Miss Judy O'Grady out of my affections. In fact, now 
that I was at close quarters to her, I knew that I still 
fancied her, madly and passionately.

	"I just wanted to say thank you," Judy continued, "for 
what you did to help me. You were right to do what you did. I 
deserved what I got, and I just wanted to say that there are 
no hard feelings."

	I beamed broadly. "Thank you for that, Judy" I replied. 
"I have been in agonies over the way that I teased you that 
time last November. I was way out of line and I had assumed, 
after that, that you must have hated me."

	"Oh no, to be sure," said Judy, in that engaging Irish 
lilt of hers. "I more than deserved that, too. You were right 
to rub my nose in it. I needed to be slapped down hard, and, 
in your own way, you were every bit as skilful as Mrs. 
Henderson."

	Since the start of this line of conversation, I had been 
quickly appraising the situation. It was possible, of course, 
that Judy was feigning friendship in order to score some kind 
of revenge against me. But I did not think so. She was an open 
and generous girl, and I concluded that she was unlikely to do 
anything that devious. And, even if that was a possibility, I 
reasoned that it was worth the risk. For here, after more than 
four years of unrequited longing, Judy seemed to be offering 
me what I had yearned for since the age of eleven, namely her 
firm friendship.

	"Well, I am glad I will not have to send you down again" 
I replied. "I thought it was a joke, a bit of a giggle, when I 
set you up last November, but afterwards I was really upset 
about it, especially when I heard how bravely you had taken 
your punishment. And then there was the second time I booked 
you. I felt even worse about that. Look, Judy, I think that I 
did the right thing, but I am really sorry that I had to do 
it, and also that I humiliated you last November."

	Suddenly, Judy burst into a big, happy grin. "Hey!" she 
said. "Why so serious? All the other prefects thought it was 
hilarious when I took the slipper. They all had a good laugh 
about it. You were laughing yourself to start with. What went 
wrong? Even I can see the funny side now. What, a big, meaty 
damsel like me getting her bottom smacked like a naughty 
little girl. It's a hoot."

	I smiled archly. "Yes, that's what I have felt about all 
my other victims," I said. "That's how I felt about you that 
morning when you came to my room. But after that, somehow, it 
all went sour."

	"But it isn't sour at all," protested Judy. "Wow! Mrs. 
Henderson, as you said, likes us big strapping wenches. She 
really let me have it. Ouch, she really wrung and stung the 
meat of my seat, I can tell you. Why can't you just have a 
good a laugh about it like everyone else and then put it to 
one side?"

	"What do you mean?" I enquired.

	"Well," answered Judy. "Since that first time that you 
caught me smoking you have been avoiding me. You don't speak 
to me any more, and you treat me as if I am not there. You 
don't even come to watch me playing hockey like you used to 
do. It's making me very sad." Then, as she said these last 
words, poor Judy broke into tears.

	Needless to say, I was mortified. I leapt from my chair 
and sat myself on the arm of hers. Then I put my arm around 
her and cuddled her. Judy nestled her head under my arm and 
into my breast as she continued to sob uncontrollably.

	"There, there," I said. "Don't cry. You know I have 
always liked you. I have always wanted you as my special 
friend. It is just that, after what I had done to you, I 
couldn't look you in the eye any more. I thought you must hate 
me."

	"No, no, no," wept Judy. "That isn't it at all. I want 
you to be my friend more than anything else in the world."

	Well, to cut a long story short, Judy and I talked for 
more than three hours that afternoon. I was honest with her 
and told her of my feelings. Judy, for her part, professed her 
love for me. Yes, "love" is the word that she used, and, when 
she did, it made my heart leap for joy. We finished off our 
conversation by pledging our undying and never-ending 
friendship for each other and sealing it with a passionate 
embrace and a long, lingering kiss, full onto each other's 
mouths. Ah, how I had longed for that moment ever since I was 
a little girl of eleven. As our lips finally parted, I threw 
back my head and gave an ecstatic squeal of delight.

	During our talk, Judy had explained about her feelings 
for me. She was a lively, passionate and boisterous girl, she 
said, and she needed someone of a more sober and serious 
disposition to keep her in line. She admired me for my 
intellectual and academic talents. Unfortunately, she added, 
she herself possessed these in considerably more meagre 
measure. And she really admired the way I had beavered away at 
my studies and done so well in them at such a young age. She 
could never have shown that sort of serious application and 
dedication, she said. In contrast to me, she saw herself as a 
bit of a flighty flipperty-gibbert. I well deserved my place 
in the sixth form and my elevation to the prefecture, she told 
me, whereas she deserved to be kept down in the fifth form, 
and to have her bottom smacked by Mrs. Henderson.

	During her explanation, it became clear to me that Judy 
had been turned on by the way I had handled her and had sent 
her for discipline. "I looked out for you on both occasions," 
she said, "but neither time did you come to watch me being 
slippered." And she sounded impressed, but also very 
disappointed.

	Taking my cue from my friend, I hammed it up. "Of course 
not," I replied pertly. "I never watch. My time is too 
important for me to waste it observing naughty girls getting 
their bottoms smacked." And we both exchanged broad, relaxed 
smiles.

	Before she left me that day, Judy made me promise to do 
two things. Firstly, she said, I must continue to tease her 
mercilessly about her spankings. That would be very good for 
her. In the short term it would reinforce her resolve not to 
be caught bending for a third smoking offence. And, in the 
long term, it would keep he in her place and stop her from 
getting too full of herself and acquiring an inflated sense of 
her own importance. Secondly, if ever I caught her out smoking 
again without my permission, I should see that she was well 
spanked for it. While we were still at school I should send 
her to Mrs. Henderson. If we had left school, I should myself 
carry out whatever physical correction I considered 
appropriate.

	I, of course, was only too pleased to make these two 
promises. I think it is fair to say that, since then, Judy has 
been the constant butt of my amusing and witty teases on 
subjects such as slippers, quivering bottoms, nubile tingling 
pussy meat and so on. It makes her wince and grit her teeth in 
frustration and anger. But it also turns her on and gets her 
very sexually excited. As for me, it keeps me in a state of 
constant sexual erythrism while I am in her company, and gives 
me many a salaciously lingering smile as I lie in my bed 
alone.

	For the rest of that academic year Judy came to my room 
regularly. While she was there I gave her all the help that I 
could with her preparation for her 'O' levels. I also 
constantly urged her on to renewed academic efforts. "If you 
could only work at your studies with the same dedication as 
you work for victory in your hockey matches" I would tell her, 
"you would be a brilliant scholar." Well, my help and 
exhortations seemed to have some effect because in the summer 
of 1973 Judy did sufficiently well in her 'O' levels to be 
welcomed into the sixth form. And when she got there she was, 
in view of her sporting prowess, straightaway created a 
prefect.


Part the Third: Spanked in the Alps

	The next two years that I spent with Judy as friends in 
the sixth form were among the happiest of my life. I may give 
you an account of our adventures one day, but this is, 
perhaps, not the proper or appropriate time or place. Suffice 
to say, for the time being, that at the age of 18 I was lucky 
enough to go off to a famous Oxbridge college, and that at the 
age of 19 Judy entered a Polytechnic in the same town. We 
were, as you can deduce from this, still bosom buddies, and we 
planned it that way so that we could be together for the next 
three years.

	The summer before we both went off to higher education 
Judy and I went on a walking holiday together in the Swiss 
Alps. It was our second night on the bare mountain. We had 
pitched our tent, and eaten our evening meal. Now we were 
warming ourselves around the campfire before retiring to bed. 
Nearby was a pile of wood that we had collected from an 
adjacent thicket for fuel.

	"Bring me some of those sticks, would you please, Judy," 
I asked. "The fire is getting low." Judy dutifully went over 
to the pile and bent down to pick up some fuel. After she had 
done so I noticed, through the fading light of the setting sun 
and the campfire's red glow, that a partly smoked cigarette 
had slipped and fallen from the breast pocket of her shirt.

	It took me several seconds to take all this in. I knew 
that, for the past two and a half years, Judy, true to her 
word, had completely abstained from tobacco, and I could not 
believe what had just happened.

	"Miss Judy O'Grady!" I said, censoriously and self-
importantly, but not without a tone of real alarm in my voice. 
"You, young lady, had better have a good explanation for 
this!"

	Well, Judy's explanation and excuse hinged on the fact 
that the cigarette was a marijuana joint. It, and a number of 
others, had been given to her by her brother, with the advice 
that the two of us should smoke them in suitably beautiful or 
romantic locations. Judy said, however, that she had had a few 
drags of this first joint on the previous evening after I had 
gone to sleep to see what it was like. "I have never smoked a 
joint before," she said. "It was fantastic. We must smoke the 
rest of this hash together while we are in these mountains, 
Julie. It will be an incredible experience."

	I must admit that I was relieved that Judy had not taken 
up tobacco smoking again, and intrigued and interested in her 
suggestion that we should smoke some marijuana together. But I 
was miffed that she had been smoking anything at all after her 
vow not to. It also irked me that she had puffed that joint 
without letting me in on the act.

	"That is as maybe, young lady," I replied in the mock 
serious tones of a school ma'am. "But first you must be 
disciplined for smoking without permission." I then reminded 
Judy of the promise I had made to her two and a half years 
ago. A deal was a deal, I said. She had broken her side of the 
bargain, and that gave me the right to chastise her for it.

	"It so happens, young lady," I continued, "that I was 
expecting something like this, and I took the precaution of 
bringing along a suitable implement for the purpose. Miss 
O'Grady, please bring me my spanking slipper. You will find it 
in the front pouch of my rucksack."

	I was anticipating resistance from Judy. But instead she 
meekly obeyed the instruction she had been given. Soon I had 
in my hand a large, thin, floppy, well-worn gentleman's 
plimsoll very similar to the one used by Mrs. Henderson. It 
was one that my father had been about to throw out in the 
spring following Judy's affirmation that she loved me. I had 
saved both it and its fellow, and I was fascinated by it. I 
had kept it close to me in my room at college. Then, when I 
went home for vacations, I had put it in the drawer at the 
side of my bed, from where I, from time to time, removed it 
and swished it around lovingly. And I had, in the same spirit, 
brought it on holiday with me. Ever since I had acquired it, 
of course, I had used it in my constant teasing of Judy over 
the two spankings that she had received from Mrs. Henderson. 
It was my firm resolve and ambition some time to get to use 
this slipper. In the short term, if the opportunity arose, I 
looked forward to using it on Judy. In the longer term, I 
would dearly love to inflict it upon my pupils if, as I was 
half contemplating, I ever became a secondary school teacher.

	Next, I confiscated the rest of Judy's joints, and 
carefully placed them, together with the partially smoked one, 
into a small plastic bag that I then secreted in my own breast 
pocket. "I will consider what to do with these," I said as I 
buttoned the pocket closed. "As a special treat, it may be 
possible for us to enjoy them together in four nights time. 
But for each of the following three nights, you, young lady, 
are sentenced to a dose of the slipper just before you go to 
bed. Come here!" By this stage, needless to say, I was 
becoming very aroused sexually. When, in a fit of wistfulness, 
I had packed the slipper in my rucksack my intention was use 
it to tease Judy with whenever I reminded her of the spankings 
I had put her to. True, I had fantasies about using it on her, 
but I had little hope that these would ever be realised. Now I 
was stunned, and extremely excited, that I had struck so 
lucky.

	Judy obediently came over to where I was sitting, stood 
beside me and gave me the slipper. "Now, take down your shorts 
and panties, please." As I gave out these salacious directions 
my heart leapt to my mouth.

	Again, Judy meekly complied with my instructions and 
pulled her hiking shorts and her knickers around her knees. 
"Right," I continued. "Now, over my knee, young lady!" I was 
sitting on a low, collapsible stool (the same one that I had 
sat on in the undergrowth the night when I had first bagged 
Judy for smoking), and my loins and bare thighs formed a 
suitable platform for Judy to lie across.

	This was the first time I had ever given Judy an erotic 
spanking. I have given her a number since, at fairly regular 
intervals, and we both enjoy them. The point, however, is that 
erotic spankings can never be purely, or even mainly, 
disciplinary. For the kind of sound disciplinary slappings 
that Mrs. Henderson dishes out the vibes have to be right. 
Disciplinary spankings of that kind are made possible because 
someone has power over someone else. One person is able to 
force another person to do something or to submit to something 
against their will. When I was a prefect I had a locus standi 
to dish out slipperings and Mrs. Henderson had a locus standi 
to inflict them. Now those disciplinary spankings were very, 
very sexy. And they were very, very sexy in a very kinky way. 
For, added to the sexiness of the actual bottom smacking was 
the kinkiness of power and domination on the one hand, and of 
submission and humiliation on the other. It was exquisite, and 
it made my heart knock against my rib cage, when, for example, 
I sent a big strapping 17-year-old for 12 of the best. The 
feeling of power as you bent her to your will, as you tore her 
off a strip with her meekly standing there taking it, was 
fantastic. And then the thought of her having to submit, being 
forced to bend over and stay in position as the stinging 
indignity of a smacked bottom was inflicted - well, my loins 
would become wet and my clitoris as stiff as a matchstick as I 
pondered the sexy and kinky scenario.

	Unfortunately, I do not think that you could ever get 
that kind of a high from spankings inflicted during marriages 
or friendships because, in both cases, the relationships are, 
or should be, voluntary and equal. There can never, in the 
last analysis, be any coercion. It is true that erotic 
spankings almost always have overtones of domination and 
submission in them. In my relationship with Judy, for example, 
I am the kinky dominatrix and she is the passive recipient. It 
would spoil everything if she ever succeeded in getting me 
across her knee. But the domination can never be harsh and 
autocratic. The victim must always be a willing victim, and 
the castigation must, in most cases, be light-hearted and not 
too severe. In other words, an erotic spanking is really a 
play spanking.

	Even so, I find erotic spankings very sexy and very 
enjoyable. Judy, for example, tells me that she likes the 
tingle of pleasure that they give, but that this can easily 
turn into the sting of annoyance if she is smacked too hard, 
or too often. My job, therefore, as I see it, is to push the 
discipline right onto the borderline between pleasure and 
submission on the one hand and pain and annoyance on the 
other, so that Judy cannot make up her mind whether she is 
enjoying it, or whether it hurts and vexes. And then, while 
she is hovering on the brink between ecstasy and agony, I will 
cunningly give her a few sharp slaps more to sting her into 
annoyance and to get her hopping mad. Oh, yes! When I am lucky 
enough to get Miss Judy O'Grady across my knees, I always try 
to stir her up, to vex her and to frustrate her. And if I am 
skilful and crafty enough I can usually get her to really fume 
with anger and boil with resentment.

	There are three things, in particular, that really get 
Judy's goat. The first is the indignity and humiliation. There 
she is, a big, strapping, grown up lady, lying intimately and 
embarrassingly across my knees and getting her bare bottom 
smacked like a naughty little girl. The second is that she 
gets her bottom slapped pretty hard. Well, at least it is 
slapped sufficiently hard that, at the time, it is a serious 
matter for her and certainly no joke. The third is that 
before, during and after her erotic slippering, she has to 
take a load of sexy, salacious mickey taking and ribald 
hilarity from me. For example, she will complain loud and long 
that she is being slapped too hard, and/or too many times. In 
reply I will belittle and disparage her complaints and give 
her my ex cathedra opinions: 1. that the dose is reasonable; 
2. that the punishment must sting if it is to be effective; 3. 
that she needs to be slapped harder now that she is bigger; 
and 4. that she is big enough and strapping enough to take a 
few smacks from a slipper without it causing her any lasting 
damage. In the short term it may sting, I will add, but the 
effect is too short lived to be worth worrying about. If I 
play it right, I can get Judy fuming at my condescending, 
arbitrary and dismissive rejection of what she considers to be 
her legitimate and justifiable complaints.

	But I digress. Let us return to how I spanked Judy 
O'Grady on that beautiful evening in the Swiss Alps.

	My heart pounded against my rib cage as Judy obediently 
placed herself across my knees as instructed. Wow! I thought 
to myself. This is actually going to happen! I placed her with 
her head to my left hand side so that her naked rump was 
conveniently positioned to take the slipper, which I had by 
now gripped firmly in my right hand.

	"Miss Judy O'Grady," I commanded grandly, "You will take 
24 slaps from the slipper across your bare bottom. After each 
slap you will shout out 'Number 1', or whatever the number is. 
You will then say 'Thank you Miss Baker. May I have another 
please.' After the 24th slap you will say, 'Number 24. Thank 
you, Miss Baker. May I have another two dozen tomorrow night, 
please?' Any delay, even a slight one, any failure to comply 
with these instructions, or any dissent or insubordination, 
will be punished by further chastisement. Do I make myself 
clear?"

	"Yes, Miss Baker."

	Whack! I then straightaway, suddenly and sharply, brought 
down my slipper onto the sexy, freckled cunt meat of Judy's 
bottom, striking just above her thighs, where the flesh was at 
it most plump and tender and where a thick bush of auburn 
pussy hair sprouted jauntily backwards from the labial lips. 
Slipper hit naked pussy flesh with a sharp, sexy crack that 
echoed around the campsite and away into the night. Through 
the twilight I noticed that Judy's auburn pussy hairs were 
scattered and rearranged.

	I was hoping to catch Judy unawares, and in this I 
succeeded. "Ouch, that hurts!" she yelled, surprised and 
shocked at the force of the blow.	I gave the bare meat of 
Judy's bottom about four or five seconds, until it was 
tingling, and then slapped it again, just as hard, in exactly 
the same place.

	Whack! This time Judy, not wanting a third one like that, 
took it in silence. I waited for another four or five seconds, 
until the escalating tingling from this second spank reached 
its crescendo. Then, at that very moment, just when Judy was 
feeling at her most irate and vexed about her sizzling bum and 
my insouciant and cavalier slapping of it, I delivered my 
punchline.

	"Two foul hits," I declared. "One for dissent, one for 
failing to make the correct response." This had exactly the 
effect required.

	"Oh, you bitch," yelled Judy, angry at me, and at herself 
for letting me catch her out. "You crafty, conniving bitch!"

	Whack! Whack! Whack! My response to this was to 
administer three more slaps, again just as hard and to exactly 
the same place, right across the back of Judy's golden red 
pussy hairs. This time, however, I stunned her into silence by 
dishing them out very briskly, one after the other, without 
any pause. Three sharp, sexy high-pitched cracks rang out into 
the night air like three reports from a rapid-fire machine 
gun. Then, before Judy could get a word in I interceded 
myself.

	"Three foul hits" I announced. "Extra chastisement for 
rudeness and dissent." Judy, clearly very miffed, took this 
last stinging indignity in silence. Then "time out," I called, 
and put my slipper down.

	The time had now come, I felt, for a few saucy and 
salacious verbals. I began by picking up my torch, which was 
lying by my side. I then shone it across the back of Judy's 
twat so that I could the better scrutinise my handiwork in the 
fading light.

	"Wow!" I said admiringly, "That must really tingle!" I 
switched off my torch and put it down. Then I began to massage 
and rub the hot, red, tingling meat, giving Judy's crotch and 
the back of her hairy pussy a good feel as I did so. "There, 
there," I asked, "Is that any better then?"

	"Yes, Miss Baker" answered Judy demurely. "Thank you!"

	"And yet all that was so unnecessary" I continued, 
feigning sadness and disappointment. "Five extra slaps, and 
all because you had an attitude problem that prevented you 
from obeying simple instructions. Now, shortly, when you have 
composed yourself and have had a chance to review your 
situation, we will start again. This time, I advise you to 
wait for the first spank, and to greet it, as instructed, with 
the words, 'Number 1. Thank you, Miss Baker. May I have 
another please.' Now, do you understand?"

	"Yes, Miss Baker."

	Whack! Just as Judy was getting out the '-er' of 'Baker' 
I let her have it. Yet again the spank was just as hard as the 
first five. It also landed right across the back of the twat, 
exactly where the first five slaps had landed and where the 
meat was all pink and tingly.

	"Number 1. Thank you, Miss Baker, can I have another 
please?"

	Whack!

	"Number 2. Thank you, Miss Baker, can I have another 
please?"

	Whack! These slaps numbers one and two and the one that 
followed them, also landed, like the previous ones, across the 
back of the twat. After the third one, Judy was clearly in 
some distress.

	"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried gently at the accumulated 
tingling and stinging of 8 whacks to exactly the same piece of 
arse.

	Whack! "Two foul shots. Penalty for failure to make 
correct response to slap three in good time. Two valid slaps 
applied. Twenty-two to go. Time out." This last, gratuitous, 
slap also landed across the pussy meat, and Judy did not like 
it at all. She was clearly a damsel in distress, and she asked 
me a favour.

	"Permission to speak, please Miss Baker."

	"Yes, Judy. Permission granted."

	"Please, miss, may I rub my bottom?" The request was so 
humbly and contritely addressed to me that I would have been a 
real cow not to have granted it. Not that I am incapable of 
being a real cow, of course. But, on this occasion, I decided 
to be reasonable.

	"Certainly, Judy" I replied, in a friendly and 
cooperative voice. "You must stay across my knee until your 
chastisement is complete. But provided you remain in position, 
I will grant you a minute of time out in which to compose 
yourself." (These little respites, of course, were exactly 
what you did not get when you were slippered by Mrs. 
Henderson. The incremental effect of one of her spankings 
could be devastating. But for an erotic love spanking natural 
breaks are required, since they bring a number of benefits. 
For example, they prolong the sexual pleasure by lengthening 
the amount of time that the loved one is across your knee. 
They also give you longer to work on your sexy verbals and to 
lather your victim into a vexatious fury. Sally's slipperings 
came sharper. She liked to hit you hard, especially if you 
were a big, strapping girl. She was also able to get a better 
swing because she was standing up, and you too were bending 
over from a standing position. None of us had any doubt that 
Sally enjoyed her work, but her ostensible objectives were 
disciplinary and reformative rather than erotic, and at least 
you did not, at the same time, have to contend with a mocking 
tongue as well as a stinging slipper.)

	"Indeed, I will try to help you more than that, Judy" I 
added archly. "If you take the next ten slaps obediently, and 
make the correct responses promptly, I will give you another 
break, this time of three minutes, in which to compose 
yourself further at the half way stage."

	"Thank you very much, Miss Baker. I would like that." And 
she sounded truly grateful!

	Whack! Sharply, and without any warning, I brought down 
the slipper again, just as hard as before, across Judy's 
bottom. This time, however, I struck higher up, across the 
middle of both buttocks, just as Mrs. Henderson did after she 
had softened up your pussy meat.

	"Number 3. Thank you, Miss Baker, may I have another 
please?" This time Judy's response came promptly.

	Pause until four or five seconds after the last one to 
give the bum time to tingle.... Whack!

	"Number 4. Thank you, Miss Baker, may I have another 
please?"

	Pause.... Whack!

	And so on until 12 valid spanks had been applied. By now, 
Judy's replies were all in order. For my part, I made it a 
little easier for her by spreading the slaps as evenly as I 
could over the whole bottom, while avoiding, for the time 
being, the sore and tenderised pussy meat at which I had aimed 
my earlier blows.

	During the half-time break I took the opportunity to eye 
up Judy's bottom, and the rest of her prone form as she lay 
across my lap. Judy ruefully rubbed her bottom as she 
gratefully took advantage of the temporary relief from her 
trip-hammering. I again put down my slipper and took up my 
torch. I then shone it all over her naked flesh. By now I had 
long been intimately aware of Judy's physical charms, but they 
still never ceased to delight me. For a big, meaty girl her 
figure was very curvaceous. I was particularly fond of her 
firm but soft tummy and midriff, which were currently pressed 
by the weight of her body against my bare thighs, exposed as 
they were by the absence, on those parts of my anatomy, of my 
hiking shorts which had ridden up into my crotch. Judy's waist 
was trim, but from it her hips and bottom curved outwards in 
the most shapely and alluring fashion. The bottom was meaty 
and the thighs long, broad and fleshy. And now as always, that 
thick clump of auburn red minge fur sprouting upwards and 
backwards from the pussy sent me into paroxysms of desire. Oh 
yes, I thought, as I gazed down on her gorgeous form, my Judy 
has plenty of pussy hair on her, and plenty of meat too. She 
has scarcely an ounce of fat, and the meat is excellently 
distributed, in all the right places.

	"Please Miss Baker, may I have permission to speak" asked 
Judy contritely.

	"Certainly, Judy. What can I do for you?"

	"Please Miss, could I please have another time out after 
18 slaps."

	I looked down at Judy's bottom and shone my torch on it 
again. By now she had stopped her vigorous rubbing and I took 
the opportunity to inspect it carefully. It was well reddened, 
to the extent that, in the half light, I found it difficult to 
distinguish the mass of light brown freckles from the 
surrounding skin, particularly in the region around the back 
of the pussy meat, the epicentre of my initial assault.

	"Very well, then," I conceded. "That seems reasonable."

	Whack! Again I got my shot in quickly, immediately after 
granting my concession and before Judy had time to thank me 
for it. Judy let out a little cry of shock, "Aw!" but then she 
got in her response, and I had to admit that it was quick 
enough to beat a charge of slowness. 

	"Number 13. Thank you, Miss Baker. May I have another 
please?"

	Whack!

	"Number 14. Thank you, Miss Baker. May I have another 
please?"

	And so on, without further incident, up to and including 
slap 18.

	Whack!

	"Number 18. Thank you, Miss Baker. May I have another 
please?"

	"Shortly, Judy. Time out."

	I did not want to make Judy's rump too tender. I was not, 
therefore, bringing down my slipper with anything like the 
same venom as had characterised my earlier swots. But, for the 
grand finale, this could not last, and I warned Judy about it.

	"That's right," I said in a kindly voice. "Give yourself 
a good rubbing and take plenty of time to regain your 
composure. Then you must be brave, for the last six slaps will 
come pretty sharp."

	Whack! Without further ado, I inflicted the next spank, 
and it was a beauty. Wow! I bet that one did come sharp! Very 
sharp!

	"Number 19. Thank you Miss Baker. May I have another 
please?" To follow, numbers 20 and 21, like number 19, were 
applied ad lib. to different parts of the upper bum. But, for 
the last three whacks, I returned to the sexy pussy meat 
across the back of the twat. And I hit it pretty hard, too!

	WHACK!

	"Oh, oh, oh!" cried Judy involuntarily at the unexpected 
sharpness of the strike, which fell onto the plumpest and 
tenderest part of her rump. But then, again in good time, she 
followed on promptly with the correct riposte. "Number 22. 
Thank you, Miss Baker. May I have another please?"

	WHACK!! Again it was the plump, tender pussy meat that 
took it.

	"Aw aw, aw...Number 23. Thank you Miss Baker. May I have 
another please?"

	WHACK!!! Wow! Did I rattle her cunt flesh and scatter her 
pussy hairs with that one!

	Then came the delicious little sting in the tail!

	"Number 24. Thank you Miss Baker. May I have another one 
please?" Judy thought it was all over, but she was in for a 
very sharp and sexy little shock! Again, I waited for four or 
five seconds for the bum to tingle from the last slap. Then, 
just as Judy was wriggling and cursing from that, I gave her a 
couple of free gifts.

	Whack! Whack! "Three foul slaps. Penalty for incorrect 
response to final slap."

	Judy's vulnerable and exposed pussy meat took two more 
sharp little spanks from my trusty slipper, with the second 
spank following quickly on from the first one. This time I did 
not hit her all that hard. Indeed, those two final little 
smacks were almost playful, delivered with two flicks of the 
wrist rather than with downward motions of the arm. 
Nevertheless, they goaded Judy into paroxysms of fury. She had 
thought, in good faith, that her punishment was over, and then 
she had found that, to her great frustration and annoyance, it 
was not. When roused, Judy has a quick and violent Irish 
temper, and this final indignity sent her completely over the 
top.

	"Oh, you bitch! You crafty, cunning, devious, scheming 
bitch. Oh, you sly, shrewd, clever, conniving bastard!"

	Whack! Whack! Whack! I dished out another three sharp 
flicks, in quick succession, across Judy's tingling pussy 
meat. "Three foul slaps. Penalty for insolence." I announced. 
Again, I deliberately did not hit Judy all that hard. In the 
last analysis this was still a playful sex spanking, and I did 
not really want to hurt her very badly. The result was that 
the smacks did not succeed in slapping Judy into line. Instead 
they merely served to enrage her further.

	"Aw, aw, aw! Oh you bastard. You strict, vindictive she-
cat!"

	Whack! Whack! Whack! I gave Judy's cunt meat another 
three flicks, again in rapid succession. "Three foul slaps. 
Penalty for continued insubordination."

	"Oh, you skilful, calculating, Machiavellian cow! Aw, aw, 
aw! That really stings!"

	Whack! Whack! Whack! "Three foul slaps. Penalty for 
further disobedience and for making unauthorised comments." 
Again, these were only flicks of the wrist, but yet again they 
were applied in quick succession, and the incremental effect 
of all of these slaps was, eventually, to bring Judy to heel.

	"Aw, aw, aw! Oh, wow, that stings, that really, really 
stings!" howled Judy.

	Whack! Whack! Another two rapid flicks across the 
beleaguered twat meat. "Two foul slaps. Penalty for 
unauthorised comments."

	By now Judy had learnt her lesson. She gritted her teeth 
and took this last stinging indignity in silence. "Time out. 
Three minutes," I cried. "You may compose yourself." Judy 
pulled her hands behind her back and began to vigorously 
massage her reddened rump. When she had finished, I gave it a 
massage and a fondle myself, concentrating on the fleshy, 
hairy bit around the back of the twat. "There," I said 
sympathetically. "Is that any better?"

	"Yes, Miss Baker," replied Judy submissively. "Thank you 
very much."

	"You have one more slap to take, Judy," I explained. You 
will reply to it with the words 'Number 24. Thank you, Miss 
Baker. May I have another two dozen tomorrow night, please.' 
Is that clear?"

	"Yes, Miss Baker."

	WHACK!!! Again, I got in my final spank just as Judy was 
enunciating the '-er' of 'Baker.' Again she was taken by 
surprise and she did not like it at all. This time I applied 
the slipper further up Judy's bottom thus providing a respite 
for her disciplinarily challenged cunt flesh. It was a real 
beauty, though. Yet again, the sharp sexy crack of flat rubber 
slipper sole onto naked, nubile, quivering buttocks echoed out 
loudly into the night air.

	"Ouch!" Judy let out a loud yell at the force of the 
blow, and in that yell were frustration, vexation, anger and 
discomfort at the sharp shock of this final, hard spank. But 
she still got in her response in acceptable time.

	"Number 24. Thank you, Miss Baker. May I have another two 
dozen tomorrow night, please?" I did not answer immediately. 
Firstly I paused and waited for my victim to fully feel slap 
number 24. Then, just as the ringing and tingling reached a 
crescendo, I delivered my punch line.

	"Certainly, Judy. I will be pleased to oblige."

	I then told Judy to lie still and await further 
instructions. There were several of these. Firstly, I put the 
sole of the slipper in front of her lips, and told her to kiss 
it. This she did, humbly and contritely. Then I told her to 
thank me for the time and trouble I had taken in correcting 
her. "Thank you, Miss Baker," Judy replied in a chastened and 
penitent voice. Finally, I asked her to turn over and pull 
herself up, so that she was sitting in my lap. When she did so 
I felt the hot, tingling meat of her bare and chastened rump 
pushing against my naked thighs.  "Now," I said. "Look at me." 
Judy looked long into my eyes through the darkening night. Her 
eyes were sparkling brightly, and she now seemed ecstatic 
rather than angry. "Right, now fix me in the eyes, thank me 
again, and tell me that you bear me no ill will or grudge for 
the chastisement that I have justifiably inflicted on you." 
Without demur, Judy quietly and compliantly did as I had 
asked.

	"Now," I said. "I want you to kiss me." Slowly and 
tenderly, Judy put both of her arms around my neck and pulled 
my face towards hers. Then she, very gently and tenderly, 
placed her open, pouting, seductive lips full onto my mouth. 
Next she pushed her lips against mine and gave me a long, 
passionate French kiss. For what seemed like several minutes 
our lips and tongues intertwined in wet and delicious 
intimacy.

	"Oh, Julie," she whispered ecstatically. "I do love you."

	"And I love you, Miss Judy O'Grady," I answered happily. 
"Come on. Let's go to bed."

	That night we made love, slowly and passionately, until 
the dawn. Then we slept, wrapped in a loving embrace, until 
the sun made it uncomfortably hot inside our little tent and 
we were forced to get up.

	In the morning I inspected Judy's bottom and found that 
it had all but recovered from its chastisement. It was a 
little sore, but by bedtime it would be ready for further use. 
Judy's witness was that the spanking that I had given her was 
longer, but in general less violent than those inflicted by 
Sally. On the other hand, it had stung and tingled quite 
sharply at the time, particularly because the slaps were 
hitting home onto bare meat rather than onto the seat of a 
pair of gym knickers. Furthermore, it was not over so quickly, 
and the recovery period was rather longer since the greater 
number of spanks made her a bit tenderer afterwards. Happily, 
however, 12 hours later, all red marks had gone and there was 
no bruising.

	I was still careful not to be too heavy handed with my 
discipline, since I was afraid that numerous and repeated 
blows might bruise Judy's bottom. But I seemed to have the 
balance about right, and bruising never occurred in practice. 
On this occasion, for example, Judy took her two further 
spankings on the next two evenings as prescribed, and we 
celebrated both of them with two further bouts of wild, 
ecstatic lovemaking. This was followed by further amorous 
activity, and, of course by the smoking of those joints in 
circumstances which were truly serene and idyllic. Wow, oh 
wow! Even now, after all these years, my heart stands still in 
joyful wonder when I recall the beautiful weeks that we spent 
up those mountains on our first foreign holiday together.


 

 
 
