by Susan Thomas
Francois Rabelais 1483-1553
Mr Jackman, better known as 'Old Jackass', gave me a detention, picking on me as usual. His lessons were always boring. He can even make Romeo and Juliet seem as dry as dust and I suppose my face showed it. It wasn't my fault I have an expressive face or that he's a boring teacher. You'd think being almost fifteen and in Year 10 all that detention nonsense would be over, but not so. Old Jackass made his detainees sit in his classroom, at a desk, with arms folded saying and doing nothing for half an hour. So, I sat there and of course it happened.
"Come out here, Diamond."
My mouth went dry and my heart began to beat faster. He was going to spank me.
"Get them down, Diamond."
I tried not to show more than I could help as I put my hands up under my skirt and began pulling my knickers down. No tights of course. Even Year 10 girls had to wear socks! When my knickers were around my knees he motioned for me to get across his lap and I reluctantly put myself in position. My skirt was lifted and I felt the cool air on my bottom as he readied himself to begin the spanking.
Smack!
His hand smacked down hard on the left cheek of my poor bottom. I yelped out "Ow" and the spanking continued, his hand smacking first one cheek and then the other in quick, crisp succession. I yelped out with increasing shrillness while my legs kicked up and down. "Oh, Please! Please, Sir, stop." Naturally he did not stop but carried on spanking until my bottom was very hot and sore. Then he let me up, my knickers now down around my ankles.
"Well Diamond, have you learnt your lesson now?"
I was so deep in my fantasy about being spanked, that in my imagination, I was standing, my hands up under my skirt, rubbing my still bare bottom. My heartfelt, "Oh, yes Sir. I really have Sir," was the result of a very sore bottom.
At that point I snapped out of my fantasy to find myself still at my desk and Mr Jackman looking at me in total astonishment. He recovered quickly enough to dismiss me but I fled the room my face burning with embarrassment. Could he possibly know what was in my head? I shrivelled inside at the thought of him ever knowing about my spanking fantasies.
That fantasy was only one of many. Any time I was bored or had nothing in particular to do I went off into a world in which girls, but in particular Diamond King, who was far naughtier in her imagination than in real life, got spanked regularly. I'd be in church and the Rev Bentley would be preaching about the importance of listening to the voice of the Lord, and I'd be off. I rarely listened. I only went because my mum was a solid, committed, church goer.
At the end of the service the Rev Bentley would say, "I'd like to see Diamond King in the vestry. Go and wait for me there, Diamond." Everyone would stare, and my mum would shake her head disapprovingly, but they all knew I was going to get spanked. Of course, they all approved because they knew I never paid any attention in church services. I stood outside the vestry door and waited for ages because the Rev Bentley had to circulate among his flock after service and talk to them all. I'd have to wait about forty-five minutes, getting more nervous all the time, until finally he arrived looking very stern in his vestments.
"You are not listening to me during the service are you, Diamond?"
"No Sir."
"If you're not listening to me, who else aren't you listening to?"
Well that question was a poser. "I dunno. My mum?"
A flash of anger. "Our Heavenly Father, girl. You're not listening to the Lord."
"Oh. Yeah, well, I'm sorry."
"I'm afraid it is my bounden duty to discipline wayward girls such as you. I want you to bend over the back of that chair."
I bent over knowing what would come next. He lifted my skirt and laid it up on my back. Naturally my knickers and tights (not at school so I wore tights) stayed up. Well he was a clergyman so seeing my bare bum wasn't right. I don't know where he kept the hairbrush but then I wasn't the only girl he spanked, so it was somewhere handy. He showed me the brush: old, with yellow bristles, and a solid wooden back, its varnish faded and scratched.
Smack!
"Yeow!" my cry rang around the vestry as he brought the brush down hard on my bottom, my knickers very little protection against its chastening sting.
Smack!
"Will you be listening in future, Diamond?"
"Yes, yes, I promise."
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
He only gave me a dozen smacks with the brush but it was enough to set my bottom on fire and make me cry. When my spanking was over I promised faithfully I'd listen carefully in future. Curiously I came out of my fantasy at the same moment he finished his sermon. My mum thought I'd been listening.
I'm not sure when my deep interest in corporal punishment or spanking first began. I remember one day my mum had been given a gift card for a pedicure and manicure at a beauty parlour in the high street. I didn't want to wait in the shop so wandered along the high street and into a second-hand book shop. The rooms above the shop were also full of books. I browsed around, idly picked up an old autobiography, opened it at random and my mouth went dry. The writer was at school just before World War One. Summoned to the see the headmistress, she was told to "lower her drawers" and bend over a chest. Once in position the headmistress swished a birch across her bottom until she had been punished sufficiently.
After that I haunted that bookshop trying to find other examples. I bought the odd book from time to time to disguise what I was up to. I found one example only. A girl was staying with her grandmother and did something wrong. She was hauled over Grandma's knees, her dress pulled up and her knickers down, and she was given a vigorous spanking with the back of a hairbrush. I couldn't see why we still shouldn't be spanked. My mum tried grounding me sometimes but given she's a single parent that's a joke. She'd have been better taking a hairbrush to me.
My birthday isn't until August so I was only fourteen in Year 10. Always the youngest, but always in top sets, despite being a girl with 'attitude'. That Christmas my mum bought me a top of the range laptop. I was super pleased as I had no idea it was coming. I did need it for school work but I also used it for something else. As soon as I had it set up and was in private I typed into a search engine, 'spanking girls'. It blew my mind with millions of hits in just a few seconds. So, I wasn't the only one with this interest!
I was like a toddler with a biscuit tin at first. I looked at so much stuff. Most of the videos were either disgusting or way too severe. Some of the sites were clearly more interested in sexual abuse than corporal punishment and they made me feel sick. I quickly learned what to avoid. I also deleted all my browsing history. I dare say some expert could still uncover it but it was safe from casual inspection by my mum. I saved nothing and bookmarked nothing. I didn't want my mum finding out about my obsession.
In the end I settled only on two sites. I memorised both their web address and my password into them. One, a huge story site, asked for a small annual contribution to get all the facilities, but I paid that on my debit card. I loved that site. I could save favourites on my own page, which meant they weren't on my laptop, but I could go back to them. I especially loved the stories about girls of my age getting spanked. They fuelled my fantasies beautifully. The other site was called 'Nurturing Our Girls'. There was a brother site for boys but I didn't join that. Members of the site referred to themselves as Nogs or Noglets so I became a nog. Parent Nogs were very strict with their girls and a lot of the posts were about what was reasonable at different ages. All were much stricter than my mum and of course many used spanking as a punishment. Sadly, they all seemed to be in the USA. When I thought about the number of members, as against the population of the US, then membership was tiny, but it was good to know that somewhere my fantasies might actually be possible.
I was always incredibly secretive about my obsession and never told anyone. I was also good at keeping my Internet activity well and truly scrubbed clean. I was still like that when I won a place at university. It was right up in the north of England but the course was perfect for me: computer science and mathematics. I also liked the look of the university and the town it was in. Mum was supportive even though, as her only relative, I was going to be a long way from our home in Winchester.
University wasn't easy for us. My dad had been killed when I was only two so although his photos were around our bungalow I had no actual memories of him. He had an insurance policy which had paid off the mortgage on our small bungalow. His pension fund gave Mum a miserly amount per month which would halve when I left full time education. She was a school bursar so we had to live off her wages. My father's pension fund did have a clause paying further education fees. When he took it out those fees were small, unlike now, so the pension fund caught a cold. Tough luck! However, I had to fund my own living expenses. I had been working in my local garden centre part time for several years and had saved every penny. Mum had also saved my dad's tiny pension since forever, but I was going to have to work as well as study.
I loved being at university. Just everything about it pleased me but I'd only been there about five weeks when my mum rang and asked if I was free that coming Saturday. She had a man she wanted me to meet. He lived not too far away from the university, so she wanted to pick me up and take me to his house, where I could meet him and his twelve-year-old daughter. I was not to know the far-reaching consequences of this meeting.
I was astonished and impressed that mum had got a man so quickly after I left for university. She'd never had a man in her life since my father died but, being objective, she was a very attractive woman. She had a cracking figure, dressed nicely, had a simple but attractive hairstyle and was very intelligent. I'd always had Mum to myself but I couldn't be jealous now. I'd left home and the chances were that I wouldn't come back permanently; it was her time now.
When she came it was so early she couldn't have driven from Winchester.
"Where have you come from Mum?" I asked.
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