Well, another thing which Penny noticed, was not surprising in itself but she took with utmost discretion and tact, although she was feeling very like that herself – a wetness on the lap where Tasha’s weight was bearing. Her instinct was to ignore but note – Tasha would sort that on her own. Yet, she took it as a compliment that she and Tasha could share such things – a bottom bare, the natural juices, all so healthy – that a spanking sometimes produces when done as it should be – vigorously, as Mrs F would say. Mildred was walking by, the strains of the spanking symphony drifted through the window turning into a cocophony of sound, hard whups! and long, long howls of pain! She nodded satisfactorily. “Good old Mummy, keeping up the standards, that’ll teach her!” Now it was Tasha’s turn – her long-suffering spanker was getting impatient so she should complete the task , or else. Besides, it was getting a little cold. English graveyards are never warm. So, Tasha without much further ado, unbuttoned the dungarees. The flaps unflapped, hooks were unhooked and buttons undone, until at last the trews and panties came down (not Raeger but M&S) revealing a sight of total delight – a deeper-cheeked rear of width and girth. Penny gave out a cry of delight – “what an inheritance my dearest friend – your splendid bottom bare – which in time will no doubt be passed on to generations yet unborn”. Then I heard her trot out this little ditty. “Spank a boy and do it right, trousers down, pants up tight. And if he smiles when he should frown, then spank him with his pants right down.” With that, Aunt Pam pulled my jeans down, exposing my underpants. My face was now near to the floor and I remember clearly the smell of the carpet, mixed with tobacco smoke as Doreen lit up a cigarette. Oh shit! Why today, why does she need a hug? Today of all days when I have let her down.” Thought Karen.

Murmurs and a few stifled giggles ran around the room. Every girl knew what that meant. So too did the teachers.Now Penny, my dear”, said Tasha “I know I have been out of line as chum and deserve attentions to my bare bum. May I say, we’ve just had a masterclass in how it’s done from Mrs F, shall we set to?” Seeing a girl’s pants was unheard of in everyday life, so for it to be sanctioned, legally, was almost akin to waiting for execution where you were not only punished, but legally invaded and destroyed, like in an act of war. It was both somehow thrilling and terrifying. The adults who mostly protected you could also punish you. This kindled in me my first great ‘love’ in the murky world of shadows – the desire to see a pretty girl spanked. 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. Why haven’t you taken his pants down?” Doreen asked with interest. “Oh my dear, that’s far too vulgar.”“But you used to cane Rory on his bare bottom?”“Ah that’s different – he’s my son, whereas this one is merely in my charge. I’ve no desire to see what he’s got down there! But pants up nice and tight, and we have a perfect view. Now we’ll see who’s boss, young man!”

The pain did not leave, it was still growing. Even in the dark of night she could feel the heat on her hand. And lying on her tummy, stroking her poor bottom, she fell asleep.I remember actually grinning and not really taking her seriously, and yet feeling quite excited, with a combination of disbelief and adrenalised elation! I asked her if it was true that she’d caned her Rory across his bare bottom, but she just told me that it was none of my business – what was my business right now was my own behaviour. There is always a rather rowdy, ribald crowd, with plump bare bottomed lasses on their knees giggling. The majority are plump older women, with ‘their girl’. We go and sit, she is about to start a tale….not verse, not poetry, but something akin to Chaucer, and his Canterbury tales. I snapped, "You don't know! You were the last person driving my new Cadillac! You were out drinking again, weren't you?"