{ASSTR 32} Jankers and Spankers
{Big Billie} (spank F/F, sex F/F)

A Sally Trubshawe Henderson Story


Part 1: A Challenge from Ireland

As the Dean of Discipline, and later the Headmistress, of a select girls’ 
boarding school in the southern counties of England, I used to administer 
disciplinary spankings, and I developed a tariff of the appropriate number 
of slaps to give malefactors of different ages and school years.

Young girls of 11 to 12 in their first year usually received 4 slaps. Girls 
aged from 12 to 13 in year two got six slaps. Third formers, aged from 13 
to 14, took either six or eight slaps depending on how much pussy hair 
they displayed when they went to bathe naked in the communal showers. 
Fourth form and fifth form girls, aged from 14 to 16, all received a 
standard number of eight slaps.

There was, however, an amusing anomaly. The school required girls who 
did not reach an acceptable standard in their ‘O’ level examinations to 
repeat their fifth year in form 5C. If they were successful in this second 
attempt at their examinations they could proceed to the sixth form at the 
age of 17, gain their ‘A’ levels at the age of 19 and go on to university. If, 
however, they performed badly in their repeat examination the school had 
no option but to ask them to leave and to suffer the loss of their fees.

It was therefore in the interests of both the girls and the school that this 
repeat year was successfully completed and to expedite this the 
Headmistress appointed me form mistress of 5C shortly after I arrived at 
the school; and she also urged me to take all necessary measures to 
ensure that 5C girls were academically successful.

Now 5C was one of our larger forms. This was because our own girls were 
joined by girls from other schools which did not allow a repeat of the ‘O’ 
level year. The result was usually a class of about 30 young ladies aged 
16 or 17, some of them lazy, some of them not particularly academically 
gifted, some of them with various personal or family problems, and nearly 
all of them resentful. To keep this diverse group of lively young ladies 
under control firm disciplinary measures were required.

Accordingly the standard punishment for 5C malefactors was 12 of the 
best with the plimsoll administered across skimpy, tightly stretched gym 
knickers after PT (Physical Training). Moreover, these were big, nubile, 
strapping lasses with meaty bums and hairy pussies. I enjoyed spanking 
them and I slapped them significantly sharper than I slapped the younger 
girls.

This was a sexy scenario. In the summer of their fifth year all the girls 
made a first attempt at ‘O’ levels. Some of them performed satisfactorily 
and proceeded to the sixth form where they were exempt from my 
slapping regime. Others performed poorly, were kept down in the fifth 
form as members of 5C, and got their bottoms slapped. As you can 
imagine the sixth formers were usually highly amused at the predicament 
of the 5C girls. Oh yes! As I have mentioned before a spanking is all very 
amusing when someone else is on the receiving end. It is only when you 
feel it across your own bum that you fail to see the funny side. And if the 
spanking is a full 12 of the best laid on smartly with vim and vigour it is 
all the funnier.
 
The girls in 5C, of course, saw things differently. They were now taking 50 
per cent more slaps than they had ever taken before and they did not like 
it. They were also getting slapped harder than they had ever been 
slapped before and they did not like that either. Even worse, some of 
their old classmates were now prefects and had the much coveted right to 
enter the names of 5C girls in the punishment book and send them for 
discipline. And, worst of all, the gymnasium had a public gallery where 
sixth formers could watch as 5C girls got their bums smacked. Indeed, 
some spectators even took opera glasses and binoculars to get a better 
view!

But as well as discipline I also gave the girls of 5C support and advice. I 
tried my best to get them out of the predicament they were in and to help 
them to proceed to successful educational careers. I delivered frequent 
classroom pep talks and I held regular one-to-one tutorials with every girl 
in 5C.

Not every girl in 5C was there because she was lazy or of limited ability. 
Indeed, some girls in 5C were highly academic and intelligent and later 
went off to top universities and distinguished careers. But sometimes 
there were personal issues such as a rebellious spirit or family difficulties 
that caused them to underachieve.

Now like many teachers I absolutely hate to see students squander their 
chances of a good education and fail the reach their full potential. Bright, 
lazy girls, for example, really get my goat, especially when they are also 
uncooperative and obstreperous.  For such girls I developed a system of 
intense personal tuition and training; this incorporated Saturday morning 
sessions in the gym that I referred to as “Fatigues” but that were known 
among the girls as “Jankers and Spankers.” Let me give you an example.

In 1968 we had a girl in 5C called Dorothy McDonagh who had been 
ejected from her school in Ireland by a fiercely academic and intellectual 
order of nuns.  When I tested her, however, she notched up some most 
impressive scores for English, mathematics and foreign languages.  So I 
wrote to the nuns to ask them why, at the end of her fifth year, Dorothy 
had been asked to leave. The Headmistress wrote back to say that the girl 
had a wild and rebellious spirit and that they could do nothing with her. (I 
already knew that Dorothy’s grandfather had died a hero’s death, killed 
by a British bullet in the shoot-out at Dublin’s Central Post Office during 
the Easter Rising of 1916.)

Well, I like feisty ladies despite (or, perhaps, because of) the disciplinary 
challenges that they present, and over the first few weeks of the autumn 
term I took quite a shine to Dorothy. She was edgy, awkward to handle, 
and sometimes stridently and irritatingly insistent on her rights. But, hey, 
what’s that among friends! Dorothy put nothing like enough effort into her 
work but when she actually condescended to produce some it was almost 
always excellent. So OK, I thought, I am going to get you through these 
‘O’ levels, Miss McDonagh, whether you like it or not!

Then, shortly after the start of term, Dorothy was referred to me by Miss 
Reynolds, her English teacher, for failing to complete work assignments 
and I booked her in for Fatigues.
Fatigues always used to kick off with a tutorial session in my room at 6 
a.m. sharp on Saturday mornings. At 6.07 a.m. there was a knock on my 
door; Dorothy had arrived.

“Good morning, Miss McDonagh,” I said brightly. “You are seven minutes 
late. You will pay for that when we start our session in the gym. But first 
let us discuss your academic progress and your referral to me by Miss 
Reynolds.”

I then sat Dorothy down opposite to me and, as we both reclined in 
comfortable armchairs, we spent more than half an hour talking about her 
case. As I had anticipated, she had a number of issues. Her family was 
affluent; they lived in a large eighteenth century house in one of Dublin’s 
Georgian quarters and her father was a top lawyer in the Republic of 
Ireland. She herself had always had the ambition to become a barrister 
but there were very few women in her country that had made it to the 
Bar and she had given up all hope of ever getting there. This, plus a 
resentment that her parents had sent her away from home at the age of 
eleven to a private boarding school in a rural setting between Cork and 
Limerick, had thrown her off the rails. The nuns were strict and scary, and 
at first she had spent every night in bed crying. But then she had learnt 
to cope, and gradually, as a teenager, a fierce flame of anger and 
rebellion had welled up inside her which not even the stern discipline of 
her teachers could completely quell.

At first Dorothy’s manner was resentful and obstreperous and I had to 
coax information out of her. But when she saw that I was listening, 
intently and sympathetically, to what she had to say, she relaxed and 
became more open and cooperative—chatty, even. Soon we were 
engaging each other with deep, long, intimate eye contact as I tried to 
look past Dorothy’s eyes and into her soul. Meanwhile, I was intrigued not 
only by my pupil’s demeanour and mannerisms, but also with her physical 
beauty; because by the age of 17, dear readers, Dorothy McDonagh had 
blossomed into an utterly stunning, drop dead gorgeous piece of Eve’s 
flesh. At that time one of the top glamour ladies wowing the cinema-going 
males was Elizabeth Taylor; and if you have ever seen her starring in any 
1950s films you will know why. Well Dorothy reminded me strongly of the 
youthful Elizabeth Taylor. She was taller, but her figure, her face and her 
colouration were similar and she had the same beautiful deep blue eyes. 
In summary, like Elizabeth Taylor, Dorothy McDonagh was a gorgeous 
blue-eyed brunette with a beautiful face and a superb, pulchritude-packed 
physique; not unnaturally our close physical proximity, our increasingly 
intimate discussions, and our long, intense eye contact fired up my 
Sapphic desires and I felt a sharp physical attraction to this troubled but 
beautiful young lady.

When Dorothy had finished her story I had my say. I told her that, in my 
view, she was being unduly pessimistic about her preferred career. The 
times were changing, I said, in an unacknowledged reference to the 
famous Bob Dylan lyrics, and if she really wanted to be a barrister in the 
Republic of Ireland she should show more determination and fighting 
spirit. That was her dream so I would recommend, as a first step, a Law 
degree at a top Irish academy, preferably Trinity College, Dublin. If she 
got her ‘O’ levels out of the way, and worked hard at an appropriate study 
programme at Advanced level, it was my opinion that she was in with a 
good chance of success. She was also, I added, being unfair to her 
parents. They had almost certainly sent her away to a top Ladies’ 
Academy in Ireland not because they did not love her but because they 
wanted the best for her. She could thank her lucky stars, I added, that 
after she had been expelled by the nuns her father had not packed her off 
to a finishing school in Switzerland where her only instruction would have 
been how to capitalise on her youth and beauty by bagging a rich 
husband.

My final point was that, as her form mistress, I had no intention either of 
letting Dorothy squander her considerable intellectual and academic 
talents without putting up a fight or of failing to support her in her 
preferred life choices; she wanted to enter the law and, whether she liked 
it or not, I was going to strain every muscle, nerve and tendon in my 
body to ensure that she did precisely that. I might well fail because my 
disciplinary regime was less strict than that of the Irish nuns; but I still 
intended to give it my best shot, starting right now.

“Very well, Miss McDonagh,” I concluded. “Please go straight to the 
gymnasium and strip for action. I shall be there in five minutes, and I 
expect to find you changed into you gym kit and awaiting my 
instructions.”

At which Dorothy biffed off.


Part 2: Dorothy’s Jankers

Five minutes later I entered the gym changing rooms and, as I always 
did, I locked the doors behind me. (We rarely got cases of theft, but some 
girls found it hilariously funny to hide someone else’s knickers or engage 
in similar mischief.)

When I arrived Dorothy was still getting changed.

“Too slow, young lady! Come here! Face the wall!”

Crack! Crack! Crack!

“That’s for tardiness!”

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

“And that’s for the seven minutes you were late for our interview!”

I did not bend Dorothy over, but I did raise her skirt and slap her on her 
knickers as she stood with her bottom towards me. And I curled my gym 
slipper under her bum cheeks and slapped her on her meaty 
undercarriage, where her bum curved around to her pussy crack. The ten 
slaps were not vicious, but they were just hard enough to be sharp and 
disciplinary rather than playful and it was clear that Dorothy felt them; 
she remained silent but when she turned to face me I could see from her 
expression that she was not amused.

As soon as Dorothy had changed I ordered her into the gym.

“Right, girl, running on the spot please. Knees up! Higher! Higher! No, not 
good enough!”

Slap!

Once more I wrapped my slipper around the meat of Dorothy’s seat and a 
satisfying crack rang out as it hit home.

“That’s better! Now keep that up for three minutes, until I tell you to 
stop.”

Soon, despite the chilliness of the autumn morning, beads of sweat began 
to form on my victim’s forehead.

“Now climb the rope, please, and put your hand flat on the ceiling when 
you get to the top. Do that three times! Come on! Faster!”

Slap! Slap! Slap!

As Dorothy rose into the air up the rope her succulent bum, tightly 
encased in a thin, skimpy pair of gym knickers that were slightly too small 
for her, presented a tempting target and I gave it another three sharp 
flicks with the slipper, then three more on her second ascent and three on 
her third.

“Give me three forward rolls on the gym mat and then three backward 
rolls. Repeat that three times. Now give me twelve press ups. Come on, 
girl, press up!”

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Dorothy’s attempts to press upwards were not helped by the weight of my 
slipper coming down right onto the meaty part of her rump every time 
that she straightened her arms. At the end of the exercise she collapsed 
onto the mat exhausted.

“OK. Three minute time out. Take a rest.

And so it went on for more than an hour: circuit training conducted at a 
brisk and hectic pace with the constant spur of my pump across her rump 
to keep Dorothy’s mind on the task at hand. I did not slap her all that 
hard; my spanks mimicked the flicks with a riding crop administered by a 
horsewoman across the flanks of her steed and they were meant to sting, 
humiliate and infuriate rather than to really hurt the recipient.

The session in the gym started at about 6.50 a.m. and finished around 
8.05. By that time Dorothy’s face was almost as red as her bottom and 
the sweat was dripping from her brow.

“Now, into the changing rooms! Come on, girl. Quick about it!”

And I delivered another three admonitory swats to Dorothy’s shapely 
rump. This projected her rapidly out of the gym and soon she was 
standing before me near the entrance to the showers.


Part 3: Dorothy’s Spankers

When I had Dorothy alone with me in the changing rooms I stood close to 
her and attracted her attention with intimate eye contact.

“Now, Miss McDonagh,” I said, quietly but firmly, “to complete the 
discipline, and to prepare you for your shower, please take off all of your 
clothing.”

I fully expected that this salacious request would be met with dissention 
and rebellion but, to my surprise, it was not. Dorothy, without demur, 
stripped off stark naked in front of me; and she did it slowly and 
deliberately, trying as hard as she could to titillate me.

And on wow, dear reader, but was Dorothy’s raunchy striptease effective! 
She knew exactly how to inflame my Sapphic passions by jiggling her 
breasts, turning away from me, wiggling her bottom, and so on; she 
competed her act by standing firmly and defiantly, legs akimbo, and 
catching me in the eye, her faced wreathed in a triumphant, come-on 
smile.

I was shaken, palpitating wildly and deeply shocked at the stunning 
beauty of this gorgeous teenaged temptress. At first I stared obsessively 
into Dorothy’s lovely, deep blue eyes, looking her straight in the face. But 
then my attention was distracted by her bodily beauty and I allowed my 
gaze to drift downwards over her firm, voluptuous breasts, her tapered 
midriff, her belly button and loins, and her well-proportioned, meaty 
thighs. Then my attention was caught by the thick clump of raven black 
pussy hair that sprouted luxuriantly from the enticing triangle formed by 
the tops of the thighs and the lower tummy; and, through that hair, thick 
as it was, I could just about discern two plump pussy lips, pouting ever so 
slightly open to display, between their serrated edges, two coral pink 
inner labia.

As I leered obsessively at my pupil’s pudenda I was abruptly reminded of 
the dangers that face any teacher who loses control of the disciplinary 
agenda. Dorothy could see that she had me rattled and off my guard, and 
she was quick to exploit my weakness. She quickly stepped forward two 
paces, slipped her arms around my waist, pulled me towards her and 
kissed me roughly and passionately on the mouth. Then, when that kiss 
was over, and while I was still in a catatonic state and a myriad 
conflicting emotions were swelling in my bosom, she kissed me again.

This second kiss was gentler and more intimate, and, despite my fears 
and misgivings, I found myself returning it rather than fighting it off. It 
was Dorothy who was naked, but her saucy, insolent assault had also 
caught me, metaphorically speaking, with my knickers down and my 
seductress took full advantage. She began to work her tongue between 
my teeth and into my mouth; soon our embrace had escalated into a wet, 
passionate, French kiss and our tongues were locked in a delicious duel.

Then, however, Dorothy went too far. With her left hand she tweaked at 
my right nipple and, at the same time, she brought her right hand up and 
stroked me between my legs and onto my vulva.

The tweak and the stroke were both gentle and they were applied not 
skin to skin but over my track suit; even so, the spell was broken. I pulled 
away from our embrace and with the flat of my right hand I administered 
a sharp slap to Dorothy’s left cheek.

“You voluptuous young minx!” I cried out angrily. “I’ll make you sting for 
that; I’ll make you tingle for your insolence!”

But Dorothy could see that she had won. She had got to me, and she 
knew it.

“I bet you will,” she said triumphantly. “Well, go on then. Give it your 
best shot!”   

“Miss McDonagh,” I replied, trying my best to recover my composure and 
to return to the official order of service, “Your session on fatigues will be 
completed in the usual way. I am going to spank you; you will take the 
standard tariff for a girl of your age, namely twelve of the best with the 
slipper; and to punish you for your lascivious insubordination as well as 
for your lack of effort in your English studies I will make sure that you feel 
them. Please face that bench, straighten your legs and touch your toes.”

Oh wow! This was the really sexy bit. Dorothy, still smirking victoriously, 
obediently turned towards the bench and bent over as instructed. This 
gave me a sudden and stunning eyeful of her most intimate parts, this 
time observed from the rear, and the sight made me catch my breath in 
lustful wonder. Dorothy was a beautifully willowy and supple girl and, with 
straightened legs, she still touched her toes with ease. The effort of 
stretching downwards, however, tightened the muscles in her calves and 
the tendons in her thighs; and Dorothy had a pair of the shapeliest calves 
and two of the most nubile and tempting thighs that I have ever seen. 
Then, on the top insides of the thighs, where they rose to meet the pussy, 
two enticing little dimpled hollows rippled and quivered between taut, 
stretched tendons; and, nestled between those hollows, I found myself 
leering again at the two meaty enticing labial lips with their pink inner 
linings and at the thick black clump of wiry pussy hair that sprouted 
luxuriously from those lips in indelicate and saucy profusion. Dorothy’s 
upper rump had been turned to a fetching shade of pink by my 
preparatory slaps and tail flicks while the epicentre of my sexy assault, 
namely the meaty bits to either side of the perineum between the bum 
hole and the pussy, were a deeper shade of red. Ouch! I was beginning to 
find this little game distinctly over-exciting!

 “Now, Dorothy, please read out the text on this card that I am placing on 
the bench.” 

Yes. It was “Dorothy” now rather than “Miss McDonagh” since after this 
spanking had been inflicted I wanted to forge a friendlier and more 
cooperative relationship between us.

“Good, Better, Best
Never Let It Rest
Till Your Good is Better
And Your Better Best.”

“Well done, Dorothy. Now study this card. And I removed the first card 
and replaced it with this one:

(Slap) Good (Slap) Better (Slap) Best
(Slap) Never (Slap) Let It (Slap) Rest
(Slap) ‘Till Your (Slap) Good Is (Slap) Better
(Slap) And Your (Slap) Better (Slap) Best 

“I am going to give you a total of 12 slaps. After each slap please read 
out the text between that slap and the next one. Now let’s rehearse that.”

And I gave Dorothy’s bum another sharp flick to which she correctly 
responded:

“Good”

Flick!

“Better”

Flick!

“Best”

And so on, until Dorothy’s bum had been flicked a total of twelve times.

“Not bad, but your responses were too slow. Let’s try again.”

Flick!!

“Good”

And so on, only this time I flicked Dorothy’s bum a little bit harder than 
during Rehearsal 1.

“Not bad, again, but now your responses are not loud enough. Please 
speak clearly, distinctly, and at a good volume. Now, let’s run through the 
rehearsal a third time.”

Flick!!!

“Good”

And so on, with Dorothy’s bum getting flicked just that little bit harder 
still.

“That seems OK. Now brace yourself. Here comes the spanking proper, 
but first, please wait; there will be a slight delay while I gird up my loins 
to deliver it.”

I wanted to get my head straight before I undertook the important duty 
of enforcing cooperative, serious, diligent and studious behaviour onto 
this rebellious, cocky, casual and nonchalant teenaged madam since, if 
my discipline was effective, it could have benevolent, life changing 
consequences for Dorothy. “This will sting, my girl,” I thought to myself, 
“but it is for your own good!”

Except, of course, that it wasn’t entirely. By now I was so sexually 
stimulated by the gorgeous naked lady bending over before me that I 
throbbed and ached with desire. I have always enjoyed administering 
disciplinary spankings especially when, as in this case, they had strong 
kinky and sensuous overtones. I knew that I would get a strong sexual 
buzz from slapping Dorothy’s bottom and I knew that this was wrong.

But, more insidiously than that, I knew that I was about to slap Dorothy’s 
bottom in anger, and I knew that I was about to slap it very hard. 
Dorothy would be taking not only the punishment that she deserved but 
also an unjust surcharge inflicted out of personal pique; and that too was 
not right.

Dorothy had really shaken me with those two kisses, especially the 
second one, the really lengthy French kiss that I had returned to her with 
passionate fervour. I shouldn’t have done that, and I knew I shouldn’t. To 
give way to the sensual and luxurious lusts of the moment was weak, 
naďve and unprofessional. I would have thoroughly deserved it if Miss 
Pargeter, the Headmistress, had slippered my bare bottom for me, and 
slippered it hard. I was mortified and vexed at my lapse and I intended to 
make Dorothy pay for it.

And make her pay for it I did. In my anger, vexation, embarrassment and 
spite I spanked her hard; and Dorothy had a bare bum to add extra bite 
and edge to my slipper. As they traditionally do, the first three slaps 
landed right onto the plumpest and meatiest part of the bum, just above 
the thighs. I pulled my arm back as far as it would go and then brought in 
round in a fast, wide arc.

CRACK!

Oh wow! She really felt that one! The slap hit home like the explosion 
from the barrel of a rifle, and the report echoed loud around the changing 
rooms. Dorothy’s shapely callipygian buttocks wobbled and quivered and 
her thick, black, wiry, backwardly sprouting clump of pussy hair was 
scattered every which way. After the sharp impact the pump rebounded 
from off its target like bouncing rubber to reveal an indented lily white 
stripe that, over the next few seconds, blushed to crimson pink. Ouch! 
That one really bit into her arse! Dorothy let out a low, urgent grunt but 
otherwise restricted herself to the required response, which was prompt, 
loud, crisp and clear.

“Good.”

I waited for the target area across the back of my victim’s cunt to turn as 
red as it was going to get, and for the tingling to reach its height. Then I 
gave Dorothy another one, slightly harder, delivered to exactly the same 
piece of arse, across the back of the perineum between bum hole and 
cunt, right where the buttock meat was at its plumpest and most 
succulent.

CRACK!!

For a second time, pussy hairs flew and wobble, sting, tingle went 
Dorothy’s shapely, womanly rump.

“Better.”

Prompt, crisp, loud and clear, Dorothy articulated the second part of the 
old Victorian schoolroom adage.

I paused again to allow the initial sharp sting from the slap to be 
supplemented by the sharp tingling that is, for the recipient, such an 
infuriating after effect of a spank from a gym slipper. Then, drawing back 
my arm again, I inflicted slap number three, and it was the hardest so far.

CRACK!!!

Dorothy’s butt end cried “Spanko” for a third time; then she made her 
response

“Best.”

And so it went on until Dorothy had taken her twelve of the best. I gave 
them to her hard: three across the back of the perineum, six delivered at 
random elsewhere across the bum, and a final three particularly sharp 
and spiteful ones where the first three had landed, across the plump 
buttock meat between the pussy and the bum hole.

I spanked Dorothy very hard. I was afraid she might break down or burst 
into tears but I need not have worried. Like a true heroine she bravely 
stayed in position, took her swats, and shouted out the required 
responses loud and clear:

“Never …Let It …Rest
Till Your …Good Is …Better
And Your …Better …Best.”

By the end of Dorothy’s ordeal I was in a state of high sexual erythrism 
and catatonic shock. The situation was so sexy and kinky that it blew my 
mind. I found the injustice of it all a real turn on. I was not merely 
inflicting just and reasonable punishment as a responsible teacher and 
mentor. I was slapping this young lady’s arse harder than it should have 
been slapped because she had annoyed me. I wanted to get my own back 
on her. I was miffed and angry. I wanted revenge and I used my official 
position and the power and authority that I had over her to get it. At first 
it made me feel guilty but as soon as my trusty slipper started to crack 
against bare arse my opinion changed. Yes, I thought, I have caught this 
young lady with her knickers down, bare and bending, presenting her 
shapely and succulent rear end perfectly positioned to take the pump. I 
will take advantage of the situation! I will give it to her! I am a proud, 
haughty lady, wilful and capricious, and I like my own way! And you know 
what, dear reader? The arbitrary and dictatorial discipline that I dished 
out to Dorothy really turned me on!

All good things come to an end, and Dorothy’s punishment was soon 
over.

“OK,” I said. “That’s all—for now.”


Part 4: In the Showers

Dorothy stood up, turned around, and stood, stark naked, in front of me. 
I could see at once that her spirit was undaunted by her ordeal. Her arms 
hung loosely at her side and she did not, like most girls, rub her bottom 
to massage away the sting. She looked straight at me. Her expression 
was radiant and her eyes were shining. She looked relieved that her 
spanking was over but also sexually stimulated because she had been 
spanked.

Yet again I found my gaze wandering all over the sumptuous nude body 
of this beautiful Irish girl. Wow but she was gorgeous! How, I mused, 
could Dorothy take a spanking like that and still be so proud, defiant and 
unabashed? And how could she still look so beautiful after such a 
slapping? I had rudely ruffled her tail feathers for her. Her punishment 
was meant to embarrass, demean and humiliate; but it had failed and at 
the end of it she was confident, poised and radiant.

Then the truth hit me. This Irish girl epitomised the beautiful country from 
which she came. I could no more subdue her spirit than centuries of 
British oppression could subdue the spirit of her countrymen. Like them, 
like Ireland, she was proud and free, and I did not want her any other 
way. The school’s disciplinary regime made it almost certain that I would 
be spanking Dorothy’s bottom again; and I would enjoy doing it! But I no 
longer wanted to subdue her and bring her to heel. I just wanted to help 
her and to be her friend.

As these thoughts ran through my mind I raised my eyes from Dorothy’s 
tempting thighs, loins and breasts and gazed once more into her 
stunning, deep blue eyes. Soon my heart was all aflutter and I was 
palpitating wildly. Dorothy, sensing that I was again vulnerable to her 
advances, stepped up to me once more. She gently slipped her arms 
around my waist and pulled me towards her. I felt her firm, nubile breasts 
and thighs pushing into me.

“Thank you,” she said. “I deserved that.”

Then she resumed that soft, delicate French kiss that I had broken off so 
abruptly when it was first given. This time, however, I did not break it off. 
It was accompanied by an increasingly intimate embrace and it lasted for 
a long time.

“Just you wait, my girl! I’ll make you tingle for that the next time I catch 
you bending.”

“I bet you will!” And Dorothy kissed me again.

“You know, you really are a scheming, lascivious minx, aren’t you? I 
believe you have done this before.”

“Yes. I was very naughty when I was with the nuns. They caught me at it 
once and I and my girlfriend were savagely beaten. I received many 
savage beatings from them. They are far more brutal than you; in fact, 
you are not brutal at all.”

“I’m sorry,” I said sympathetically.

“Well kiss it better, then,” replied Dorothy, and she resumed our tongue 
tennis for the fourth time.

Eventually Dorothy went for her shower and I stripped off and followed 
her, eagerly ogling the red pump marks across her bare bum as I did so.

It was a long time before we emerged from those showers, and by the 
time we did we had both been very naughty. Our lovemaking slowly 
escalated from naked kisses and caresses to intimate body soaping and 
indecent gropes, tweaks and tickles. Soon both of my nipples were hard 
and erect as Dorothy skilfully worked on them with long, deft, sensitive 
fingers. Then my lover gently kissed the lips of my face while working a 
finger between the lips of my pussy. Next, when her finger had aroused 
my clitoris to bone hard erection and my pussy to hot sticky wetness, 
Dorothy fell to her knees and gently insinuated her tongue into the 
intimate inner crevices of my unshaven haven.

At first I was a passive recipient of Dorothy’s advances. I was flustered 
and embarrassed by the temptations so invitingly dangled before me and 
ashamed and fearful of the possible professional consequences. “Oh, you 
naughty girl,” I exclaimed helplessly. “I should bend you over here and 
now and give you another twelve of the best.”

“Yes, you should,” replied Dorothy. “But you are not going to, are you?”

“No,” I answered resignedly, “I’m not.” And, as she knelt at my feet, I 
lovingly ran my fingers through my paramour’s beautiful wet, jet black 
hair as I sank to the ground to join her. We lay there together on the wet 
tiled floor with the hot water cascading over our nude bodies and 
resumed our intimate, naked kissing and cuddling.

By now I had thrown my initial caution to the winds. I was returning 
Dorothy’s advances with passionate enthusiasm and the next time she 
moved her mouth to my cunt lips I moved my mouth to hers. Soon we 
were intimately embracing each other in a delicious soixante-neuf: two 
tongues invaded two hot, wet pussies and four hands rubbed, squeezed 
and slapped at four bare buttocks, four naked upper legs and four nude 
inner thighs.

Dorothy was a skilful lover; my first orgasm came before hers and it was 
fierce and violent. Soon I was writhing around on the tiled floor of the 
communal showers as I screamed out ecstatically and ejected copious 
quantities of love juice into her face, where it mingled with the hot water 
from the shower nozzles before it was washed away.

I myself also had previous experience and no little skill in the jousts of 
Sappho. Soon my pert, darting tongue had stiffened Dorothy’s clitoris and 
brought her to hot, wet, sticky orgasm. I briefly felt the emissions on my 
nose and chin, and I tasted their wet saltiness in my mouth. Then they, 
too, were washed away by the hot water.

I do not know exactly how many times we brought each other off in those 
showers, but it was enough to satiate our sexual passions, at least for the 
time being. After we came out of our soixante-neuf we lay there gently 
kissing and cuddling. Then, eventually, we rose to our feet and, still 
kissing and cuddling, we at last merged from the showers and I turned off 
the water.

That day Dorothy and I became lovers; we have remained lovers, as 
opportunities have presented themselves, for over forty years; and we 
will remain lovers until we are separated by the grave.


Part 5: Breakfast at Sally’s, and Afterwards

When we were both dried and dressed I unlocked the changing room 
doors. Then we left the changing rooms, I locked the doors again from 
the outside, and we went off to my room for breakfast. This was a slow, 
leisurely affair. It lasted for several hours and it escalated into brunch. It 
was mid-afternoon before Dorothy and I finally parted company, and by 
then we had firm plans in place to ensure the success of her studies.

Far more important than the plans, however, was Dorothy’s attitude, 
which had undergone a sea change. I have learnt during my long career 
as a teacher that exhortations, criticisms, threats and punishments are 
not in themselves enough. If you want to get the best out of students you 
need to win over their hearts and minds. The way to do that is to offer 
them your friendship and to give them your time; and you can only do 
that successfully if you like doing it and if you do not begrudge the effort 
that it takes. In other words, to be a really good teacher you need to put 
in the effort and you need to like kids.

Well, I had spent the time and I had made the commitment with Dorothy. 
This was something that, for all their brutal and cruel punishments of her, 
the nuns had never done. A few years later Dorothy won a Scholarship to 
read Law at Trinity College, Dublin. Later, like her father before her, 
Dorothy became one of the Irish Republic’s most famed and distinguished 
lawyers. A few years ago she was invited back by the nuns to give the 
speech and to present the prizes at their annual Speech Day. Thus, as is 
said more profoundly and more spiritually about our Lord in the New 
Testament: “The stone that the builders rejected has become the corner 
stone.”