Thursday Afternoon Detention (F/fff)

[andy7788]

It was 2 o'clock on thursday. This particular time on this particular day of the week, is set aside, different to every other day of the week. For most children the time is a free study period, where it is expected that you either engage in one of the many additional lessons and activities that the school offers, you can make a start on any homework, or you can go to the library to read. However, there is something else that happens on this day of the week.

I look at the clock on the wall and its 10 minutes to 2pm. I am subconsciously shuffling in my seat. Perhaps this is through nervousness, or it might just be that the hard wood seats are particularly uncomfortable. I am not here alone, as there are 5 other girls who wear facial expressions ranging from glum, through defiant and all the way to downright scared. As I look at them I am all of a sudden self conscious as to which part of the scale I fall into. Something towards the scared end is how I feel.

This isn't the first time I have sat in these seats, but it is the first time I have been sat here on a Thursday, just before 2pm. As i take in my surroundings I consider that in many respects it looks much like the waiting room at a local doctors surgery. There is a big door, with a plaque which reads, Mrs Dawson, Deputy Head Mistress. other than that there isn't much to look at, other than the table in front of the chairs. Unlike a doctors surgery, where you might have a smattering of out of date magazines, there is just one form of reading material, the school's pupil handbook.

There are three copies of the handbook on the table, and 3 printed extracts on single a4 sheets. Intrigued I pick one of the A4 sheets up and start to read:

School Disciplinary Policy

Disciplinary action at this school is divided into four categories: mild, moderate, serious, very serious.

In the moderate category, corporal punishment is the standard punishment at the school, once milder methods have failed.

If the matter warrants an immediate sanction. Spankings can and will be administered by classroom teachers, but not in the presence of other students.

In most cases, offences in the moderate category will be dealt with by the referral of the pupil to Thursday Afternoon Detention. Thursday Afternoon Detention takes place in the Deputy Headmistress' Office. Any spankings will be administered by the Deputy Head Mistress, or nominated delegate, and may be administered in the presence of other pupils, who are also on detention.

Serious or very serious offences are dealt with on an individual basis by the School Headmistress.

Corporal Punishment/spanking is defined as striking of the buttocks with an open hand or flat object. Spankings can be administered to the seat of the skirt or underwear only, at the discretion of administering staff member.

Parents must sign on the school application form that they agree that the school has full discretion in the discipline of its students while at the School. See also the "School philosophy" page, which says "We believe the Bible teaches the use of corporal punishment in the discipline of young people. We therefore instruct our staff to corporal punishment where necessary".

I remember reading the school policy when I first joined the school and this part stood out, vivid in my recollection. I have never been spanked at home, but have seen plenty of my friends get it, as we grew up. As Thursday Afternoon Detention is rarely empty, what goes on inside is no secret, with countless accounts being banded around the school. Even though I knew what to expect I still felt terrified and anxious. Perhaps I could sneak off without anyone knowing, I was considering.

As I glance down at my hand I see the pink slip in my fingers telling me the answer. It clearly has my name, my teachers name, the offence (copying another students work) and the word moderate. I know all too well that a copy of this slip is sent to this office so they know who should be here.

The silence was broken as the door to the office suddenly springs open, making me jump. We are instructed to go inside and line up against the wall. We do as we are told and line up in no particular order. I look around the room as we wait for further instructions.

The office was huge, with old pictures of the school and previous staff members all over the walls. There was a large wooden desk, piled high with paperwork and a large padded chair behind it. In front of the desk was another chair, sat ominously in the middle of the room. Given what I had heard from other student accounts I didn't need to guess what it was for. My visual inspection of the room was then interrupted by the booming voice of Mrs Dawson.

"You have been sent to me, because your behaviour falls short of the acceptable standards that we set at this school. I am disappointed to see that there are some familiar faces amongst you. I always hope that one visit to Thursday Afternoon Detention should be enough to correct the errant ways of pupils. However, in some instances this seems to not be the case. Let me assure you that repeat referrals to this detention will ultimately be dealt with by a separate referral to Mrs Taylor (Head Mistress) as a more serious matter.

For those for whom this is the first time, let me explain what will happen and I hope that I never have to see you in these circumstances again. You will stand by that wall and wait to be called. When called you will come forward and explain why you have been sent here. You will then go across my knee and be punished for that offence. When it's over you will return to the wall, face it and put you hands on your head. You will remain there until 3pm, at which point you may then leave. I suggest you use this time to reflect on what you did and how this will not happen again.

Do I make myself clear!" She punctuated the final sentence in a particularly loud tone..

"Yes Mrs Dawson," came the synchronised reply.

Without any further delay, she sat in the chair and smoothed her skirt. Looking up at us she pointed to the girl at the end of the line and beckoned her over. I stood completely still, eyes wide as I watched the girl shuffle across the room. I was glad I wasn't first. As I was in the middle of the line, I would be 3rd I had worked out, assuming she went in the order of the line.

"Why are you here?" Mrs Dawson asks as, the girl approached.

I didn't know the girl, but guessed she was the year below me, which would make her about 11years old. She was quite short with ginger hair and a plump build.

"I skipped class miss" came the reply in a quiet, trembling voice.

"And why did you skip class" came the stern reply.

"I don't like PE, the other girls make fun of me," she answers.

"I'm afraid that is no excuse, physical education is very important in maintaining a healthy body. A healthy body leads to a healthy mind. If other pupils are picking on you, then you should bring this to the attention of the teacher in charge." Mrs Dawson lectures.

"Yes Mrs Dawson," came the meek acknowledgement.

Seemingly content that the little lecture was complete, Mrs Dawson takes the hand of the girl, pulling her round to her right side, before pulling the girl across her broad lap. The Deputy Head Mistress was a large women both in height and build and the short girl looked tiny as she lay helplessly draped across her knee.

Satisfied that the girl was in the desired position, she then proceeds to grab the hem of the girls skirt and lift it all the way up exposing the girls knicker clad rear. I couldn't help but notice how the plump girl had an equally plump bottom as her underwear stretched tightly across it. Even though I had heard many times that the normal procedure for Thursday afternoons involved skirts being raised, until I saw it with my own eyes it hadn't really hit home.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her upturned bottom, but my daze was quickly broken as the hand struck for the first time. The girl took a sharp intake of breath as the first smack hit. Mrs Dawsons hand was large and covered a large area of flesh. She started repeatedly raising it up into the air, swinging it back down firmly resulting in a loud slap. Every time it struck I noticed how the girls buttocks jiggled.

The smacks were raining down slowly and methodically. She was concentrating and alternating the smacks from one cheek at a time. After about every 10 smacks I notice that she places a few low and central, her hand big enough to span both cheeks.

I try to see the girls face, but it is buried behind her sprawling hair. I did think that she was taking it remarkably well as she isn't crying out at all. I also notice that she is gripping the chair legs tightly with both hands. So tightly that her knuckles are white.

The spanking continues for what seems like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes in reality. When it is over, the girl is helped to her feet and led back to the wall. I was able to grab a quick glance of her face and can see that she has tears streaming down her face. She was quickly into the right position facing the wall with her hands on her head. I can hear her sniffling, clearly trying to stem to flow from her running nose, a task not made any easier by not being able to move her hands from the top her head.

Mrs Dawson returned, takes her place back in the chair, ready to start the process over. She points at the girl next to me and summons her over. I have seen this girl around before, she was part of the cool group of girls in the year above me.

"Miss Williams, here you are again! What is it for this time?" Mrs Dawson questioned.

"Fighting, Ma'am. But it wasn't my fault, she hit me first. But Mrs Leek didn't see it, so she blamed me for everything." Amy Williams responds, trying to submit a defence.

"Given your track record, I am inclined to believe that Mrs Leek knows what she witnessed. Clearly as this is not your first visit to Thursday detention, I didn't make a sufficient impression on your behaviour last time. I will have to see if I can do better this time." Came the reply, clearly not believing a word of the argument.

Mrs Dawson, in well practiced fashion takes Amy's wrist, guiding her round to her side and then straight across her lap. Amy is quite tall and her feet touch the floor, whilst her hands are also flat on the floor. Just like before, it isn't long before Mrs Dawson has raised the girl's school uniform skirt and she is ready to begin.

After getting a good look at Amy's bottom, bitch, is all that comes to mind. It is far more tight and shapely than my own. I feel a strange and somewhat guilty sense of satisfaction, as Mrs Dawson sets to work, smacking her ridiculously perfect butt. Once again the smacks ring out like rifle shots, bouncing off the walls of the office.

I am actually taken aback by the force of the swats being delivered to Amy's bottom. I'm not sure if it is because Amy is older or because it is her second time at Thursday detention, but Mrs Dawson was definitely upping the ante. I can see Amy's face grimacing, her eyes closing tightly shut. I can also see she is trying vey hard to stay stoic and strong, despite the onslaught.

I switch my attention back to her bottom. Amy's knickers are the customary white, in line with the school uniform policy, but are quite high cut. The result of this is that parts of her lower bum are much less protected. Whilst I am sure the cut of her underwear helped her feel more adult like, when in this less than adult-like situation, I expect she is regretting her decision to pick this particular pair today.

Mrs Dawson is applying a similar method as before alternating cheeks and making sure every inch is being spanked. As the spanking continues, Amy is starting to lose her resolve. She has started to squirm around a little, sometimes lifting a leg off the floor after a smack on the corresponding side. Her steely silence also broken, by the occasional ow, ah and intake of breath. But instead of letting up at this point, Mrs Dawsons just spanks even harder and faster.

Then she stops.

"Am I going to see you back here Miss Williams?" She asks.

"No ma'am" came the reply.

"I hope so, but lets make sure." punctuating the sentence with a smack, low and across both buttocks.

Mrs Dawsons hand rains down hard with renewed vigour, alternating cheek to cheek again. She then starts to strike slightly lower, at the point where Amy's bum ends and her upper thighs start. These smacks are met with a shriek from Amy as the hand strikes mostly bare flesh. Sensing the increased response, the Deputy Headmistress, continues to concentrate on this area. Any exposed flesh has gone through a shade of pink and is now becoming quite red. Amy's legs are now kicking freely and she is writhing all over the large woman's lap, trying to get her butt out of the way from the stinging palm.

Watching the spectacle of one of the cool kids being reduced to a blubbering child, my thoughts went on to how I will fare and my own bottom. I am glad I am wearing pretty full cut knickers, but as I think about it I an all of a sudden very conscious that they are riding up my butt a bit. Seeing Amy's bright red exposed flesh and hearing her squeal convinces me I that I need to do everything I can to avoid having any bare skin. Hoping know one will notice I reach back under my skirt, hook my thumbs in the leg elastic, trying to pull them out so that they cover as much skin as possible. I am now relieved that I have maximised what little protection I have, but also that my adjustment has gone un-noticed.

I watch the show reach its conclusion and then suddenly realise that I am next. I feel the hairs on my arm stand on end and I start to tremble. Surely she won't smack me that hard, I think. It was only a bit of copying.

Amy is now being helped to her feet, all defiance completely gone, being replaced instead, by tears that are flowing freely. As she is led to her place facing the wall, I feel my eyes well up and think I might cry. At the beginning I was glad to be not going first, now I'm so sure. Having to watch some of the others go first, just makes me even more terrified about the upcoming ordeal.

As I prepare myself for what is to come, I notice Mrs Dawson go round the other side of her desk. What was she doing, is she doing it on purpose? I think. She sits down in her chair and starts to sip from a drink. Great, I think, she is having a rest, getting her strength back! Every bone in my body is begging me to run out of the door, but I know that doing that will only make things worse.

After a couple of minutes rest she rises from her seat and I feel my heart start to pound. It feels like it was going to pop out of my chest. My face is flushed and I am feeling very hot all of a sudden.

Finally she sits down in the chair in the middle of the room, points her finger straight at me and then beckons me over. My mouth is dry as a bone, as I walk slowly over to her.

"And why are you here?" She booms, nearly knocking me over with her voice.

"I forgot to do my homework, so copied from another girl, on the bus this morning." I figure that trying to put up a defence didn't do Amy any good, so went for the honesty is the best policy approach.

"I see. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that this is clearly unacceptable. Maybe after today you will remember to do your homework in future."

I know the lecture is over when my hand is grasped. I am pulled to my left and round so that I am facing her right thigh. The grip still firm on my wrist, my arm is pulled out in front of me, pulling my body forward with it. I feel my legs make contact with her right thigh, as she continues to pull on my arm. I have no option, her vice like grip unremitting, I brace myself with my free hand placing it on her knee, as I lay myself across her lap. My hand is finally released as the job is done and I am now staring at the floor.

I try to place my hands on the floor like Amy had, but I can only just reach.
Similarly my toes are just about touching the floor. It is my first experience of being in this position and the overwhelming feeling is one of extreme vulnerability. This feeling is then magnified as I feel my skirt being raised, leaving me with just a thin layer of material protecting my bottom that is now pointing skywards, exposed.

Not that I have any further thoughts of escape, but if I had these would have been quickly dispelled, as I feel a firm hand press on the small of my back. A second after the hand was holding me down, her other hand takes my breath away as a loud slapping noise signals the start of the spanking. There is a slight delay before I feel a stinging sensation on my left cheek. Another loud noise and a similar sensations on my right cheek. Left, then right, left then right, the process being repeated.

Initially I think that this isn't quite as bad as I was expecting. It certainly stung but the sting is bearable. However after about 20 smacks, the sting is increasing. Barely had the pain died down from the last smack when another is added. Her hand felt huge as each smack covers a large area. The by-product of this being that the same area of skin is being repeatedly struck. The heat and the pain is building and I am getting desperate for her to target anywhere else to give my poor scorched skin time to recover.

I try rocking my hips from side to side to try and give the central area of by butt a break. This is largely unsuccessful, as my struggles are minimised by the strong hand holding me down. Her other hand just continues striking my bottom relentlessly. Realising there is no escape I decide to concentrate on just getting through it and praying for it to finish soon.

My feet start drumming against the floor, almost completely involuntarily. The pain and sting just continue to build with each spank. I grab the legs of the chair and grit my teeth trying not to burst out crying. I feel a tear roll down my nose and drop onto the floor.

"Please stop...... I am sorry...." I sob. But she doesn't stop.

Not knowing when it will end, tears are now flowing more readily. My butt feels like I have sat on a stove. Then without warning the smacks stop. It takes a second or two for this to register and I lay there limply. I feel the hand on my back release, before being scooped up by my armpits and back up onto my feet.

Once on my feet my hand go straight to my bottom, rubbing furiously. The rubbing only helps a little, but is cut short as I am led back to retake my place by the wall. My hands are placed on my head, with my nose only a couple of inches from touching the wall.

I'm not particularly aware of what is going on behind me. My mind is still racing from what just happened. At least the pain in my bum is starting to subside. There is a loud smacking noise which rang out like a rifle shot. It makes me jump. Whilst I feel sorry for the girl on the receiving end, I am just glad thats no longer me on the receiving end

As I stand there, it takes a couple of minutes for the tears to stop completely. On reflection, If there is one thing I am sure of, it is be that I won't be copying anyone's work and I never want to come back to Thursday Afternoon Detention ever again!

[spankyfox45]

Love this story great detail.I like F/F Stories and also F/m keep up the good writing look forward to your next story.

[Often123]

I agree, the girls here are certainly learning their lessons from the formidable Mrs. Dawson, a firm-handed lady.

[pipspank]

This is a sensationally good recollective story. Everything is spot on here. I really like it - thank you.

[profken]

Loved the first person viewpoint! Great story.

[andy7788]

Thanks very much for the comments, very kind, glad you liked it.