Cheeky Tales: (British Spanking Stories)

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Mummy was a perfect product of the 1950’s. A dutiful housewife who had kept an excellent house since the day she married. Sadly her husband was no longer around, but stoically, with a stiff upper lip and a gallon of fortitude, she had carried on running the house, her home, with pride. Karen liked the strange feeling she felt (in a certain in a certain intimate area) at being exposed.

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The shop assistant was indeed a W.I. member, and knew the women in the village. Mummy knew that it would soon be common knowledge that she was now armed. The leaving of school behind her and the journey home was sullen. The man in the bowler hat frowned at her as if he knew. The walk from the bus stop to her lovely cottage was heavy and slow. Two of Mummy’s friends saw her and nudged each other. Was that a snigger? The journey to the end of the day was like some heroic trek in a fantasy novel. Long and arduous. The lunch time collection of the ‘death sentence’ sent a cold shiver to her tummy. The words left the slip and ran amok in her brain. There before her the words threatened her bottom. As she climbed the stairs thoughts of her own upbringing and the spankings she had received raced through her mind, what part of her naughty bottom had taught her the most? What words had her Mummy used to send the message home? What advice from her mentors, the W.I. and the Vicar helped her do what was needed? The memories spoke to her…”Spare the rod, spoil the child.”“It is for her own good.”“She will thank you one day.”The spit in her mouth had gone, her knees went weak as she saw Mummy swell before her taking a deep breath. Her eyebrow lifted and vanished beneath her fringe. She sat down, and opened the envelope. From the very first visit to the Girl’s Grammer School, it was made clear that corporal punishment was used. After a tour of the school looking at laboratories, home economic rooms and such like, the new girls were sat, with their Mums. At the end of the ‘Inroductory Speech’ by the Headmistress. It was made perfectly clear that corporal punishment was used to keep any naughty girl in line, and that parents had to sign a consent form to say that they agreed with the school’s Disciplinary Code of Conduct. This caused a mumbling stir in the Assembly Hall and the loins of many girls, as Mummy’s turned to whisper to their child. All the words looked so official, having been typed by the school secretary. And signed by her teacher in ‘Quink’ blue, fountain pen ink. This is a story version of one of the true real life spankings as told to me by a delightful lady who went to a Girls Grammer School and was kept in line at home by a slipper wielding mother, who used it on her daughters bare bottom… Often!

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I have just finished the first incident in the ‘Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls ~ Incident Log’ Karen listened, and the message sank in. She knew her Mummy did not do idle talk as regards discipline. Mrs.Weltwaay put the detention slips into envelopes at the end of the school day. Then with a stern face told them to go home. She had friends there, she had respect, she even had a few who envied her. Also, quite possibly, a few ladies, especially the young mothers, were in awe of her, even, more than a little scared of her. Our latest author is Naughty Julie who has recently submitted a story called Corporal Punishment In Myanmar .Now she had a vehicle for her pride. She had always been proud of her daughter, a bright intelligent daughter. Not many from the village had got into Grammer School in recent years. She knew that a lot of her peers in the W.I. Would be saying that very night…”I hear Karen got into Grammer school, she deserves it, her Mummy will be so proud.” Karen got out and some involuntary action told her to stand to attention. Anything good right now, might stop the severity of what was to come. Soon her bottom was a lovely red, spreading down to her upper thigh. Mummy remembered the sit spot and how it stung, so delivered ten right across the point where her voluptuous cheeks joined her thighs. How they bounced, sinking in, then springing up instantly, and how she wriggled trying to pull free of the pain. But Mummy held her firmly, a tight grip around her waist holding the hand that tried to protect her. This annoyed Mummy, she was in mid flow! Our latest author is Polly Jo who has recently submitted a 12-part serial called The Girl In The Striped Pyjamas.

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Mildred went to Ivy’s, where she met Betty and Mary. Like the fire in the plump bottom of our naughty girl, news of the good irls downfall began to spread. The Vicar at Saint Hugh’s Church used her as an example many times. “If you are not sure what to do, go and see her, she’ll have probably done it before, she’s marvellous!”

Almost a minute passed, but it felt longer. Karen looked at her beautiful Mummy, the rounded body looked so cosy and even at this moment strangely comforting, her Mummy bear almost. She saw her Mummy looking at her bush, her hips, she could almost read the thoughts in her head…”My my, my little girl is a girl no more.”

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Karen took the note, her hand shaking slightly. She could feel the cheeks on her face flush. “No Mummy I do not have any homework tonight.”

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In Karen’s case Mummy simply said, “I have signed it, and returned it already. Let me say this just once Karen. If you are ever punished at school, you will be punished again at home, understood?” The door handle slipped in her sweaty palm, the door made a noise far too loud. Mummy sounded so joyous as she shouted, “Hello dear, had a good day? Come and give Mummy a hug, I need one today.” Mummy noticed, and the other W.I.Women noticed. Not only noticed, but mentioned it, in a subtle way. “Your Karen is making a fine young lady, she’ll certainly turns some heads one day!” Without doubt there would be a degree of jealousy from some with troublesome daughters too, and even though she would never admit it, that gave her satisfaction too! Karen was on her tummy. She was sniffing now, not crying, and trying to understand the lovely feeling she has in her most intimate area, as she gently pushes up and down on the bed, her bright red bobbing up and down, which she can see, in the mirror, if she looks over. Which of course she does…