|End of Summer Spannks|
Summer's over. It's official, It must be because this is the End of Summer Spanks and if seasons aren't officially observed through spanky bloghops, they jolly well should be.
I am insanely excited to be involved in this bloghop. Partly because it gives me the chance to share my 'Back to School' spanking story with my lovely readers. But mostly because I get to reveal the most awesome prize that's ever been offered anywhere by anyone to anyone.
Prepare yourselves. Perhaps find a comfortable seat and some smelling salts. Because, today, you have the opportunity to become the owner of your very own Etta Stark Mug!
|Just add penis|
To win the prize, simply enter your email address where it says 'Sign Up for Occasional Awesome Emails' at the top right of this page and click 'submit'.
Then I can drop you the occasional email when something really exciting happens such as releasing a new book or I discover the true meaning of life or... no, that's probably it. I won;t email you about anything else. I don't want to take advantage of your good natures.
I'll be in touch after the Summer Spanks weekend and let you know if you are the lucky winner.
And if you aren't lucky enough to win The Most Awesome Mug In The Whole World TM (and even if you are, come to think of it), there are a whole host of Wonderful and Amazing Summer Spanks prizes being given away by Spanking Romance including Amazon gift certificates, an e-reader and a handmade paddle. To be in with a chance of winning one of these great prizes, please leave a comment on this post.
Remember to check out the linky list at the bottom of this post and visit all the other lovely bloggers who are participating in the bloghop.
Below is my Summer Spanks story. You can also download it is as PDF if you want to pop it on your kindle and read it later at your leisure.
Old School Discipline
Philippa Montgomery stood at the impressive oak door at the entrance to the Old Building at St Neots Academy and banged the brass knocker. She was trying to suppress any first day nerves but it wasn’t easy. This was it. The dream job. The one she had wanted since she’d qualified as a teacher.
Above the entrance was the school motto: “Poenam amplio moribus.” Punishment improves character. It made Philippa smile. St Neots had a long, proud history of administering corporal punishment and the motto must have been incredibly apt when the school was founded five hundred years ago but now that corporal punishment in school had been outlawed for several decades it seemed a little outdated. She couldn’t imagine that St Neots would change it though. Tradition is important.
The door was opened by Peter Waldegrave, Head of History and Philippa’s new boss. She hadn’t seen him since her job interview and was she hoped that she might find him slightly less intimidating than she did then.
It was hard not to be intimidated by the man. She found herself going dry at the mouth as she looked up at him. He was at least 6’4” with black hair, ice-blue eyes and a slightly forbidding expression his chiselled face that made Philippa want to either run away or reach up and stroke his cheekbones. Fortunately, she did neither.
“Philippa, good to see you. The Porter let me know you were on your way over. Did you have a good journey?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr Waldegrave.”
A shadow of a smile passed over his face. “Please. Call me Peter. I’ll take your bag for you.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question and Philippa automatically allowed Peter to take her suitcase from her.
He strode across the impressive entrance hall and headed to the huge open staircase. She trotted after him. “Thank you so much for agreeing to let me move in so far ahead of the start of term,” she said. “I only got back from Dubai two days ago. It’s so much easier being able to come straight here than having to find somewhere to live for the next five weeks before the start of term.”
“It’s no problem at all. I am here all summer anyway. I’m writing the History of St Neots Academy as you know so it makes sense to be in situ while I write it.”
“It sounds a fascinating project. I’ll try not to disturb your work.”
He looked back over his shoulder; his eyes flickered over her briefly. “I am sure you won’t” he said. “There’s some staff in residence over in the New Building all summer but over here, it will be just us two for the next three weeks.”
Referring to the main school building as ‘The New Building’ was a tradition which had been in place for the last two hundred years. It was constructed in the early nineteenth century and could only be considered new in comparison to the rest of the school buildings.
At the first floor landing, Peter pushed open a door which led to a corridor. “Make sure you pull the door shut behind you,” he said. “Otherwise it will bang.” Philippa pulled the door and followed Peter down the corridor. He opened another door which led to dormitories and Philippa had only followed a few steps before he stopped and turned to face her. “The door, Philippa.” he said simply.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” said Philippa rushing back to close the door properly.
“This will be your room,” he said when they reached a small self contained set of rooms near to one of the girls dormitories. “I presume you are well acquainted with the layout of the school and its grounds.”
“Well, yes. I used to go here, you know.”
“I do know. You were here for the very first year female students were accepted into the sixth form. You are an important part of the school’s history.”
“It was a privilege to come here. The reception we got wasn’t entirely positive at the time, of course. There were plenty of people who thought that St Neots should remain boys only. And now the school is completely co-educational. I liked to think we female sixth-formers paved the way for that.”
“Indeed. You and your fellow students were groundbreakers. I was taught here too, as a boy. Clearly there’s something about St Neots that draws its former pupils back. Feel free to wander around wherever you like and get your bearings. I must warn you the kitchens are unstaffed and pretty empty at this time of year. However, I have what passes for a kitchenette in my rooms. You would be welcome to join me for dinner this evening.”
“Oh... um... yes, that would be delightful. Thank you.” She felt herself become flustered again by her gorgeous intimidating boss. He wasn’t asking you out on a date, you know, she scolded herself.
“I will see you at seven then. St Dunstan’s wing. I need to get back to work.”
With that he removed himself from her room and Philippa was left to her own devices. It was truly marvellous to be back at the old place. She loved St Neots with its imposing buildings and centuries of tradition. Getting a job here as a history teacher was a dream come true.
Wanting to reacquaint herself with the old place, she headed to the Old Building library. It wasn’t the biggest library at the school but it was certainly the most interesting for a historian. It was in the oldest part of the building, its shelves of antiquarian books reached up to the ceiling and on its far wall were portraits of many of the school’s illustrious Head Masters. Each one looking stern and intimidating in his mortar board and gown,
Glass cases inside the library contained numerous artefacts relating the school’s history. Philippa had spent plenty of time here as a student and was immediately drawn to her favourite case.
The tall glass case contained a leather bound ledger, opened to a date in 1780 and headed ‘Punishment Book’. There was also a birch and several canes. Philippa recognised the objects like old friends. She dreaded to think how many hours she had probably spent staring at this display as a student. Corporal punishment had been abolished before Philippa had attended the school but the subject had fascinated her for as long as she could remember.
She noticed to her surprise that the lock which normally held it closed was open. She tentatively pushed it and the glass panel swung open. She took a deep breath and almost reverently picked up one of the rattan canes. She felt a shiver go through her as she held the historic artefact.
The sound of a throat being cleared behind her startled her from her reverie. She jumped and quickly replaced the cane in the cabinet before turning to face Peter shamefacedly.
“It is not permissible to remove objects from the display cases,” Peter said sternly.
“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I suspect that your professional inquisitiveness got the better of you,” said Peter, the corner of his mouth turning up into what was almost a smile.
He strode forward and stood beside her at the display case. “So what do you know of that object?” he asked.
Feeling like she was being quizzed on her specialist subject, Philippa replied, “That particular cane belonged to Sebastian Clutton who was Head Master here in the early nineteenth century. A man with a remarkable enthusiasm for bestowing corporal punishment, even by the high standards set in this place. The punishment book there was also his.”
Peter nodded. “Very good. As you know, he meticulously recorded the details of each and every one of the hundreds of beatings he meted out to his pupils. I have had the privilege of studying his diaries for my book, you know. He kept meticulous notes there as well. And it turns out that he didn’t just punish students. He was an enthusiastic deliverer of physical punishments to all the female staff as well. Disciplining schoolboys was a duty. Disciplining maidservants was clearly something of a hobby.”
Philippa’s eyes widened. “He wrote about it?” she asked.
“At great length. There was one maid in particular, Molly Beaton, whose punishments get the most florid descriptions. He spanked her on her very first day for bringing his shaving water up late and continued to spank her on a regular basis for the rest of his time as Head Master. Given that she was in her sixties and Clutton in his eighties by the time he took retirement, I don’t think she objected too strongly to his methods of discipline.”
Peter’s ice-blue eyes were watching her intently. Did he have any idea, she wondered, how very turned on he was making her? The first time he’d said the word ‘spank’ she’d almost had to stifle a moan.
“Come with me, Philippa,” he said, briskly. “I want to show you something.”
He took her to through to the history classrooms. Philippa looked around her hardly daring to believe that she would soon be teaching in these very classrooms.
“There’s a store cupboard here that you might find elucidating. Given your apparent area of interest.”
He unlocked the door to a large cupboard and turned on the light. There was an abundance of items inside from school trophies to framed maps and old-fashioned school desks with ink holders.
“What with my interest in the school’s history, I have a tendency to hoard. I thought those might of interest to you.” He nodded towards the wall and Philippa followed his gaze.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
Hanging on the wall, each from its own individual peg were four school canes.
“Not as old as the ones in the library, admittedly. But you are allowed to pick these ones up.”
Philippa couldn’t resist she reached up and unhooked the nearest cane from its peg. Examining the smooth rattan cane, she wondered about its history. How many recalcitrant backsides had been caned by this object?
“How old are these ones?” she asked.
“Hard to tell. It’s not like there were distinctive fashions in canes over the years. Relatively recent I’d say. 1960s or 1970s most likely. Caning was still regularly carried out then.”
“Was there caning when you were a pupil here?”
Peter smiled. It was probably the first full smile she’d seen on him. He should do it more often she thought. He was good-looking beforehand. When he smiled, he was breathtaking.
“Ah well, I am an important part of St Neots history too in that regard. I have the dubious honour of being the last boy ever caned at this school.”
Philippa laughed. “Is that something to be proud of or ashamed of, I wonder?”
“A little of both I think.”
“What did you do?”
“I smuggled a young lady from the nearby girls’ school into my study in the middle of the night.”
He let out a short bark of laughter. “I was seventeen years old. If you can’t imagine what the young lady and I intended to get up to then you may need to work on your deductive reasoning.”
“Oh.” Philippa blushed and then blushed still further as she tried to formulate her next question. “And the girl, did she get caned too?”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “No. It wouldn’t have been likely anyway. But after we were caught, we decided to represent her as the poor innocent misguided soul who was led astray by my wicked ways. It seemed the best way of avoiding us both getting in trouble over it.”
“What a gentleman you were.”
Another laugh. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”
“Did it hurt? The caning, I mean?”
“Of course. That was the point. But it was preferable to expulsion.”
“Do you think corporal punishment should be reinstated?” she asked.
Peter shook his head. “God no, I think we’re better off without it, don’t you? Although,” he continued thoughtfully. “I think there is one exception I would like to make to that.”
He was looking at her in such a way that it turned her insides to mush.
“What’s that?” she said quietly.
“I think I could support Sebastian Clutton’s policy of administering corporal punishment to the female staff. What do you think? Do you think the occasional sound spanking would help you do your job better?”
“I... I...” Philippa spluttered. His words had lit a fire directly within in her. She was so turned on by his last question that she could barely formulate a sentence. “I’m not a maidservant!” she spluttered out and then cursed herself. Might he take that as a ‘no’?
“No, obviously, you’re not a maidservant. You’re a history teacher. There weren’t any female teachers in Clutton’s day; if there had been, perhaps he would have taken great delight in punishing them too. As your line manager at St Neots, it falls into my remit to deal with you over any disciplinary matters. Do you know why I came down to the library earlier?”
“No,” said Philippa.
“After expressly telling you to shut the doors properly earlier, you managed to leave not just one but both of them ajar after you left your room. I found it impossible to work with the doors banging and came down to tell you of it.”
Embarrassment flooded her face. What an idiot she was. She had completely forgotten what he had told her about the doors. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled.
“Well what with that and touching historic artefacts without permission, I believe you have a punishment coming. Do you agree?”
Philippa stared at the tall, gorgeous, domineering man in front of her and, terrified as she was, felt like all her Christmases had come at once.
“Yes,” she said hoarsely.
“Hand me the cane, Philippa.” he said.
She did as instructed. He held the cane in his right hand and swished it through the air. He then took hold of Philippa’s arm and led her gently to one of the desks in the classroom.
“Are you ready for your caning?” he asked.
“Bend over the desk.”
Philippa complied. She was wearing a formal black skirt with a white shirt and high heels. This was her first day in her new job after all. She had wanted to look smart.
Peter took her skirt and lifted it up above her hips and then pushed her knickers to the side slipping his finger inside of her.
Philippa was surprised by his action but didn’t object. It felt good to have him touch her there, even though she was so wet it was almost embarrassing. She was practically dripping onto her shoes.
Peter chucked. “Good girl. I see you’re very ready indeed.” He withdrew his finger and walked over to a neighbouring desk from where he pulled out a chair. Seating himself he patted his lap. “Over my lap, Philippa. I think a warm-up spanking would be in order first.”
“A warm-up spanking?” she asked cheekily. “Is that historically accurate?”
“No. Think of it as a concession to the caring, compassionate twenty-first century. I’m all heart like that. Now get over my lap.”
She placed herself carefully across his thighs and then shrieked as he pulled her forwards, tipping her so that her hands were on the floor and her bottom was raised high in the air. He pushed her skirt out of the way and yanked her knickers down to her knees.
Then he spanked her bottom. Hard. She tried not to wriggle as the firm had swats rained down on her bottom, but it was difficult. She resisted the urge to shield her bottom with her hands. This had been her number one sexual fantasy for the last goodness knows how many years. She couldn’t believe it was finally happening. She also couldn’t believe how much it hurt.
After Peter had successfully turned her bottom into a furnace he stood her up in front of him. “Right that’s the warm up done. Time for your caning.”
Philippa panicked slightly at that. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. But she didn’t want him to stop. Peter led her to the desk and bent her over it. Her skirt was still round her waist and her backside was once again exposed to his view.
“Just four strokes, I think, as you are new to this,” he said.
Philippa wondered briefly how new he was and then the first cut of the cane vanquished any thoughts from her mind.
She yelled out at the sudden rush of pain in her backside. She heard the second stroke of the cane whistling through the air as it came down. Once more her backside exploded in pain. The third stoke hit her lower down on her backside, its sting making tears spring to Philippa’s eyes despite her best efforts to stop them.
“Last one,” said Peter. “You’re doing well.”
“The last stroke of the cane came down on the very lowest part of her buttocks where her cheeks met her thighs. Philippa screamed out at the pain and gripped the desk tightly. Even once he had stopped, the pain in her backside was overwhelming. She was sore beyond all her expectations and, god, she was more turned on than she had ever been in her life. Peter pulled up her panties with a jerk and the touch of the cotton against her pussy was almost more that Philippa could bear. She felt like she was seconds away from reaching orgasm.
“You took your punishment admirably,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you ... sir.” she said, still bent over the desk.
Peter laughed. “ I like you calling me ‘sir’” he said. “Up you get now.”
She did. Her face was scarlet, her hair was all over the place and her cheeks were streaked with tears. And yet Philippa had never felt more sexy or more wanton than she did right now.
If Peter felt the same way, however, he wasn’t giving anything away.
“Right,” he said briskly. “I need to get back to work. Are you still coming to my rooms for dinner at seven?”
“Good. I’ll see you then.” He began to walk off.
“Aren’t you going to put that back in the store cupboard?” asked Philippa looking at the cane that Peter was still holding.
He laughed. “Oh no. This is coming up to my rooms with me. I have a feeling that I am going to find plenty more opportunities to use it.”