Miss Johns

From Janus 19 with some nice Paula Meadows illustrations, including a couple I’ve “borrowed” from the story Miss Grey (which I’m unlikely to post as it has a primarily F/M theme).

We received this female reader’s story accompanied by the letter printed below. As the writer did not give her full address we are treating MISS JOHNS as an anonymous fantasy based on personally experienced realities, and we therefore withhold the surname she gave.

Dear Sir,

I was introduced to your magazine by my current boyfriend, who likes to spank me. I have enclosed a little story that I have written, in response to your invitations to contributors. It is loosely based on my own experiences when I was a schoolgirl not too many years ago.

I went to a girls’ Church of England Secondary School. The Headmistress had a caning stool, over which we had to bend when we got caned. The school used the cane rather a lot, probably something to do with sparing the rod and spoiling the child. We were automatically caned for truancy, smoking, fighting, swearing, cheating in exams, and being sent out of class. I have very vivid memories of being caught out of bounds with a group of other girls and having to queue in front of the caning stool as each of my friends took her turn over it, until it was my turn. I have to say that I never actually enjoyed being caned as a girl, I just tended to cry my eyes out afterwards, yet I can remember that I first masturbated after a caning when I was left with a strange tingling feeling in my bottom.

At my school girls were caned right through until they left at 18. Parents of course fully supported caning, and us girls, well we accepted it, after all we all got treated the same.

If you did something really bad, like I did on one occasion when I swore at a Mistress, then the caning was given with your knickers taken down. Nasty.

Several of the other teachers, all women, alas, used the slipper or the cane. One old girl used to cane us on the bottom in front of the class, but to be fair she was too old to really hurt us. The other caners did it across the hands, normally the left hand so that you could still write, which we always regarded as rather cunning.

I did get caned as a sixth former, by the Headmistress for smoking, and I really did feel humiliated by it.

My boyfriend now finds the least little excuse to put me across his knee and take my panties down to give me a well warmed seat. Every now and then I am really naughty and then he gets his cane out, but that is reserved for special occasions.

Anyway, I hope you like my story, my boyfriend did. Keep up the good work publishing the excellent magazine. By the way, we both think that the St Winifred’s Sixth Formers’ Lesson is the best-produced CP video we have seen.

Pauline W. (Miss),

Woking, Surrey

Sheila Johns was a very popular Mistress. She was 30, tall and elegant, her jet black hair contrasting well with her pure white skin.  She wore only the very best shoes, patent leather, and her outfits were so much better than the other Mistresses’. In fact every girl in the school hoped that she would grow up to be like Miss Johns.

Being a Tuesday it was 5A for maths. Sheila strode down the corridor towards the classroom, math’s text book clutched tightly under her arm.

Suddenly there was chaos in front of her. A girl rushed out screaming, closely followed by another who threw something at the first girl.

The first girl ducked, and the thing whizzed over her head and landed with a splat on Sheila’s right shoe. It was a water bomb.

It burst leaving a puddle in the middle of the corridor. The girl who had thrown the bomb appeared giggling to survey the damage. Her giggles stopped the instant that she saw Sheila. Sheila stared at both girls for a few seconds, drumming her fingers on her text book before speaking.

‘How old are you, Julie?’ she asked the girl who had thrown the bomb.

‘Seventeen, Miss,’ the girl replied, holding her head in shame.

‘Seventeen,’ repeated Sheila, ‘seventeen, and a lower sixth former, who behaves like a first year girl.’

Julie bit her lip and shuffled her feet.

‘What is your name, girl?’ Sheila demanded of the other girl.

‘Beal, Miss,’ she answered.

‘Well, Beal,’ Sheila said, ‘Get yourself a mop and get this mess cleared up, and consider yourself lucky that I am not dealing with you more severely.’

‘Yes, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss.’

‘You certainly will be if I catch you misbehaving again, Beal. Just remember that in this school you are not too old to be caned,’ Sheila advised her.

Beal swallowed hard.

Sheila turned to Julie. ‘You can come with me,’ she said. And she set off down the corridor, with Julie close behind.

5A was in chaos. Books were flying around the classroom, the noise was deafening. As Sheila entered a book flew past her right ear. She did not even blink. She stopped and said:

‘Carol, you will come and see me after school today in my study.’

Carol, a pretty girl, now with a bright red face said, ‘Yes Miss.’

Order had returned to the class.

‘Right,’ said Sheila, ‘Sit down.’

There was a good deal of scraping of chairs as the girls sat themselves down, coupled with a buzz of conversation concerning the presence of Julie.

‘No talking!’ Sheila ordered. The buzz of conversation continued at a lower level.

Sheila said loudly, ‘The next girl that speaks without permission gets the slipper!’

There was silence. The girls knew that this was no idle threat.

‘Good,’ smiled Sheila. ‘Now, Julie here is going to demonstrate that no matter how grown up a girl in this school may think she is, if she behaves like a first year then she will be treated like a first year.’

Sheila let the message sink in. Each member of 5A craned eagerly forward, waiting to see what Miss Johns would do.

‘Come here!’ Sheila ordered Julie. Julie shuffled across.

‘Get across my knee.’

Julie stood and gasped.

‘No, Miss, please!!’ she begged. ‘Not a spanking, not in front of the juniors. I’ll take a caning, honest, but please, not a spanking!’

Sheila was unmoved.

‘I have already told you that if you behave like a little girl then you will be treated like one, and naughty girls get their bottoms spanked, don’t they girls?’

‘Yes Miss,’ 5A chorused, eager to be treated to the extraordinary sight of a sixth former getting her bottom smacked.

‘Over my knee, Julie.’ Sheila said again.

Julie gave a look of helplessness and bent forward over Sheila Johns’ knee. She was far too big for it, and literally ‘overlapped’ on both sides.

Sheila turned back Julie’s regulation sixth form black skirt to reveal a pair of navy blue knickers, slightly faded, but framed by white suspenders. Sheila put both her thumbs into the waist band of the knickers and expertly turned Julie’s knickers down, clear of her bottom.

Julie’s white bottom quivered in anticipation of what was going to happen. Her face, fortunately fairly hidden from view, was now beetroot red with shame.

The girls could not believe their luck. They craned forward to get a better view of the proceedings.

Sheila raised her right hand and brought it down hard on Julie’s left bottom-cheek. She winced as it landed with a sharp smack.

Sheila’s hand came down again sharply on the other cheek, then the left again, then right, left, right. Julie tried to wriggle away from the blows raining down on her, which were turning her bottom a lobster pink.

Tears began to flow down her cheek, and dripped from her chin on to the floor to form a small puddle. Still the spanks rained down, smack, smack, smack, smack.

5A were going mad. They were virtually fighting to get a better view. They had never seen anything like it before. Many of them had in the past been across Sheila’s knee for such a spanking; if not such a severe one, and knew just how much it hurt. They would be ashamed to get one at their age!

The pinkness on Julie’s bottom was turning into a deep scarlet. Julie was blubbering quite openly — gone was any attempt to preserve her dignity in front of the younger class. She even started to implore Sheila to stop the spanking. Sheila however had no intention of stopping. She had found her rhythm now.

After another minute or so, Sheila’s arm began to tire and she slowed down before stopping. Julie lay quivering and sobbing for all she was worth. Sheila let her have a good cry before speaking.

‘Right, now stand up.’

Slowly and very painfully Julie stood. Her hands flew straight to her bottom and began to rub.

‘No rubbing!’ snapped Sheila. ‘We don’t allow rubbing, do we girls?’

‘No, Miss,’ they chorused gleefully.

In desperation Julie rubbed her hands together.

‘Now pull your knickers up,’ Sheila ordered.

Again, with a good deal of pain Julie eased her knickers over her spanked bottom.

‘Now you can leave,’ Sheila told her.

Julie needed no second telling. She fled from the classroom, heading straight for the sixth form toilets.

Sheila turned back to her class. Her class of 20 smiling girls. ‘Right, let’s have a look at your homework,’ she said.

----//----

It was later the same day that Sheila Johns made her way to her study to deal with Carol. As she was walking down the corridor she heard a whispered conversation. Sheila crept round the end of the coat racks and came face to face with Julie and her friend Beal, both with lighted cigarettes in their hands.

The girls were so stunned to see the teacher standing there that they made no attempt to hide the cigarettes.

‘Well, well,’ said Sheila, ‘what do we have here then?’

The two girls could make no reply.

‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘You know perfectly well what to expect for smoking in this school.’

With a deep sigh the two girls put their cigarettes out and got to their feet.

‘Go to my study.’ Sheila told them.

When Sheila and the two girls arrived at her study Carol was already waiting nervously. Sheila reached into her handbag, took out a key and unlocked the door.

‘In!’ she instructed the three girls. Sheila Johns followed them in and closed the door.

‘Right, you two!’ she snapped, pointing to the two sixth formers. ‘Stand over there, hands on your head.’

Julie and Beal obeyed, and Sheila turned her attention to Carol.

‘Now then, young lady,’ she said. ‘Do you have anything at all to say in defence of yourself?’

Carol thought hard for a couple of seconds, then slowly and sadly shook her head.

‘You know that we take a very dim view of books being thrown across the class. There is a shortage of books and these math’s text books cost £5 each.’

Carol hung her head in shame.

‘All right,’ said Sheila. She opened a drawer in her desk and produced a large gym slipper.

The tears welled up in Carol’s eyes. She had never had the slipper before, but her friends who had, always claimed that Miss Johns made it hurt a great deal.

‘I want you to take your knickers down,’ Sheila told Carol.

Carol gulped, then unsure of herself she reached under her skirt and began to tug her knickers down.

‘Down to your knees please,’ Sheila told her.

Carol looked pleadingly at the Mistress, but seeing that she was to get no reprieve she pulled them down to the tops of her slightly grubby white socks.

‘Bend over,’ Sheila instructed her.

Carol obeyed, stretching her fingertips to touch her toes exactly as the girls in her comics had done. Sheila lifted Carol’s skirt to reveal a pure white pert little bottom. Lifting the slipper high in the air she brought it down, landing it on the right cheek with a loud crack, rather like a pistol shot.

Carol gave a cry of pain, and she tried to stand up. Before she could, however, Sheila caught hold of her neck and forced her down further, bringing the slipper down across the left cheek as she did.

Carol howled in pain.

Two red circles, one on each cheek, showed where the slipper had landed. Sheila brought the slipper down again. Carol yelled her protest and tried to protect her bottom with her hands.

Sheila was far too experienced in using the slipper to allow any girl to obstruct her punishment in this way. As she whacked the slipper down Carol howled again. The lesson was being well learnt.

Sheila lashed the gym slipper down again on the red circle on the right cheek, making it redder still. Carol was by now crying freely. The left cheek was made as red as the right one and then, satisfied that the girl had been sufficiently punished, Sheila placed the slipper upon the table.

After a few moments Carol’s crying turned to sobbing.

‘Stand up and pull your knickers up,’ Sheila instructed her.

Carol slowly obeyed, then stood facing the Mistress. Determined not to rub her bottom she clenched and wrung her hands together in front of her.

Sheila looked down at the tearful girl. Leaning forward she put a finger under Carol’s chin and held it up so that the punished pupil was looking into her face. She gave Carol a smile. Carol gave a watery smile back.

‘Now you will remember not to mistreat school property in future, won’t you?’ Sheila said gently.

‘Y-yes, Miss,’ Carol whispered.

‘All right then, off you go,’ Sheila told her.

Throwing a glance in the direction of the two sixth form girls standing with their hands on their heads, who had witnessed her tear-inducing slippering in mounting fear for their own backsides, Carol turned and left Sheila’s study. Sheila Johns then turned her attention to the two trembling sixth formers.

‘Come here,’ she ordered them.

The two girls came over. Sheila turned to Julie.

‘It appears that the spanking I gave you earlier today did you no good at all. So I propose to take far more drastic action against the pair of you. You know that the Headmistress insists that any girl caught smoking is automatically caned. I therefore propose to cane the pair of you.’

The girls had expected as much, and their sentence came as no real shock. But knowing what they were in for did not ameliorate their states of mind, for there is no way to prepare oneself for the pain and embarrassment of a caning.

Sheila opened her desk drawer and took out her punishment book.

‘Full name, girl,’ she snapped at Beal.

‘Wendy Beal, Miss,’ Beal sniffed,

Sheila turned to Julie and said loudly, ‘And yours, young lady, I know only too well. If I had had a pound for every stroke of the cane I have had to give you since you have been at this school I would now be extremely wealthy.’

Julie hung her head in shame, knowing what Sheila said to be true. Sheila completed the entries in her book and returned it to its resting place. She then crossed the room to a cupboard and opened it. She selected a cane from the bundle of half-a-dozen or so resting in the cupboard.

‘Come here, Beal,’ she said sharply, giving the cane a menacing swish through the air.

Wendy crossed the floor to the Mistress.

‘Bend over that stool.’ Sheila pointed to a high stool with her cane. Every girl in the school knew of Miss Johns’ caning stool, and every girl dreaded the day that she would have to bend across it.

Wendy bent over the stool.

‘Take a firm grip of this,’ Sheila told her, tapping a bar towards the bottom of the stool with her cane.

Wendy gripped the bar.

Sheila turned Wendy’s skirt back to reveal her pantyhose. Sheila sighed. It always slowed things up when you had to cane a girl wearing pantyhose.

With a sharp tug Sheila pulled Wendy’s pantyhose down to her knees. Then she turned her attention to the pair of faded navy blue knickers underneath. Wendy clamped her thighs together to try to stop Sheila taking her knickers down.

‘No you don’t!’ Sheila told her.

‘You have been at this school long enough to know that all caning’s are carried out on a girl’s bare bottom.’ Wendy relaxed her grip on her thighs and Sheila eased her knickers down. Wendy instantly clamped her legs together to protect her modesty. Sheila smiled to herself.

She measured Wendy up with the cane. Wendy tensed herself for the first stroke. The atmosphere in the room became very acute.

Sheila waited, like the experienced schoolmistress that she was, for the girl to relax.

The instant that she did she whipped the cane down. It arced fully across the girl’s bottom, leaving two thin red lines that quickly became a single red line. Wendy’s head shot up and she gave a cry of pain. Sheila was very well known as a local tennis player, and her forehead smash was something to be admired. The girls at school all knew where she got the practice.

Sheila waited for Wendy to compose herself before bringing the cane down for a second time. This stroke landed a little lower, across both pouting cheeks. Again Wendy gave a cry of pain, but now her hands flew to her bottom and frantically she tried to rub the pain away.

Sheila allowed her a few seconds before tapping her hands with the cane and saying, ‘Come on, hands back on the bar.’ Wendy reluctantly obeyed.

The cane whipped down again, and before Wendy could grind her cry of pain out, or get her hands to her bottom, Sheila had delivered another stroke, a fraction of an inch below.

Wendy howled her protest. Tears were flooding from her eyes. Her blazing, pain-radiating buttock cheeks writhed desperately. The agony was so intense that she dare not touch her bottom, for fear of it hurting even more. She pleaded with Sheila to let her off the remaining strokes.

‘Please, Miss Johns,’ she sobbed, ‘I’ve learnt my lesson, honest I have. I promise you, I’ll never smoke again!’

Sheila ignored the pleas for mercy. She was going to give six of the best, and that was an end to the matter.

‘Hands out of the way, girl,’ Sheila said in her best Schoolmarm voice, ‘Otherwise there will be extra strokes.’

Wendy wailed a protest, but was determined not to get extra strokes, and somehow forced herself to grip the bar once again.

The cane whipped in for the fifth time. The stroke was savage and hard, and very loud. It fell a mere fraction of an inch below the others. Wendy therefore had five cane weals in a small area right in the centre of her bottom.

The final stroke was the one the girls all feared. They called its resulting weal the ‘mark of Miss Johns’. Sheila always placed the final stroke across the tops of a girl’s thighs, where it hurt so much more. As a result the weal showed below a girl’s gym shorts or swimming costume, thereby telling all her classmates that she had had the cane from Miss Johns. It was even more embarrassing for sixth formers, as all the junior girls could see the mark at lunchtime netball practice.

Sheila lined the sixth stroke up, straight across Wendy’s thighs. Wendy gave a moan when she felt the tap of the cane on her thighs, warning her. Sheila drew the cane back and then delivered it smartly to its target.

Wendy screamed in pain as it bit into her. Her legs flew open, her modesty tossed to the wind. Oh, how could anyone be so cruel? Wendy burst into tears, the twin flashpoints of excruciating pain throbbing like raw flames.

Sheila Johns flexed the cane between her hands and admired her handiwork. That final stroke had produced double angry-looking weal’s that Wendy was engaged in frantically rubbing. After allowing the girl a few seconds of rubbing she said, ‘Stand up, girl.’

Still crying bitterly Wendy stood, hands clasping her bottom, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto Sheila’s carpet.

‘Don’t cry on my carpet,’ said Sheila, indignantly. ‘It makes the colours run.’

Wendy rubbed her eyes.

‘Pull your knickers up,’ Sheila told her.

Wendy struggled to obey, wincing as the elastic of her pantyhose bit into her tortured bottom.

‘You know what to expect the next time I catch you misbehaving?’

Wendy, face distorted, nodded her head.

‘Right then, you can leave,’ Sheila said.

Slowly and painfully Wendy made her way across the room. As the door closed behind her and her footsteps clattered off down the tiled corridor, her bawling could still be heard.

Sheila turned to Julie. ‘And so it’s just us two, again,’ Sheila said.

‘I should charge you for this,’ Julie told her. ‘After all, all these canings you give me are only making your forearm smash and tennis serve stronger.’

‘Do I hurt more than I used to then?’ Sheila asked with a quirk of a smile.

‘Well, hmm, it certainly hurts a lot more in the summer, when you are playing plenty of tennis.’ And Julie added, ‘Do you cane us to keep your arm in trim for playing tennis, or do you play tennis just to keep in form for caning us?’

Sheila laughed, enjoying the easy banter with this spirited, but charming, girl whose prettiness would soon be setting suitors’ hearts a-flutter.

‘A bit of both I think,’ she answered. Then she picked the cane up and crossed the room to the cupboard.

‘I think we will use my nice new springy one today,’ Sheila smiled quietly to herself.

Julie groaned. ‘That’s not fair!’ she objected. ‘You have already spanked me today, and in front of all those fifth formers too. I felt so humiliated!’

Sheila laughed, taking even more pleasure in the turn the introductory exchange was taking. ‘Nonsense! I made you quite a heroine amongst them. They will remember you for the rest of their lives.’

‘Maybe,’ said Julie, ‘but for the wrong reasons. Anyway can we get this over with please, I am meeting my boyfriend tonight at 7.30.’

‘I hope you are not going to the pictures, because by the time I have finished with you, you will not feel like sitting down anywhere for quite some time.’

‘Actually we’re going to a disco, so this should help me wriggle about a fair bit,’ Julie said with a smile.

‘Come on then, over here, Julie. You know the drill.’

Julie crossed the room to the stool. Once she got there she stopped and reached under her skirt and tugged her knickers down to her knees. She then undid the button on the side of her skirt and stepped out of it. She bent forward over the stool taking a firm grip of the bar, in the same way that Wendy had. Julie braced her legs, slightly apart, not caring about her modesty, knowing from experience that this was the best way to take a caning.

Sheila looked at Julie’s bottom, still red from the earlier spanking. She ran her hands over it gently. She could almost feel the heat. ‘Is it still sore?’ Sheila asked.

‘A little.’

Sheila picked up the cane and lined up the first stroke.

‘Are you ready?’

Julie nodded her head and bit her lip. The Mistress raised her arm high. The cane came down squarely on to Julie’s bottom. She gave a gasp of pain. The first stroke always hurt far more than you expected it to.

Sheila gave Julie some time to compose herself before bringing the cane down again, slightly harder this time.

Julie groaned and her head shot up and down. Her body went as taut as a bowstring, her knees sagged and then tensed again.

‘Give me a nod when you are ready,’ Sheila told her.

It was always so much more civilized caning a girl like Julie, who had been caned many times before, she thought to herself. You could get on with her beforehand, and she knew the score. There was none of this pleading not to be caned, or trying to rub her bottom halfway through. None of the hysterical screaming either, the girl simply took it and that was that.

Julie nodded her head, and Sheila whipped the cane down again like a tennis maestro.

Julie moaned and threshed her hips. She sniffed back the tears, but could not stop one streaking down her cheeks from each eye.

As she nodded her head again Sheila lashed the cane down. As in Wendy’s caning, she kept the strokes close together. Julie gave a sharp cry of pain.

Sheila put a hand on her heaving shoulder, noticing her fast panting breaths. ‘Steady, girl, steady. Take your time,’ Sheila advised her kindly. ‘There are still two to come.’

Julie sniffed back the tears and wiped her brimming eyes with the back of her hand, brushing her hair away from them. Then she nodded her head.

Sheila delivered the fifth stroke with the measured severity of the other four.

Julie let out a shriek as her head shot back.

Sheila walked around her study to give Julie a chance to recover. She stopped and said, ‘It’s the special next, so don’t nod your head until you are good and ready, OK?’

‘OK,’ Julie echoed at last.

It was a full 45 seconds after the fifth stroke before Sheila Johns took up her position once again, and lined the cane up on Julie’s thighs. Julie took a deep breath then nodded her head.

Sheila drew the cane back and lashed it down, in one accelerating motion.

Julie yelled with pain as the stroke landed. It was one of Sheila’s better marks, and for several moments afterwards the pain was out of this world.

Satisfied with her work, Sheila set the cane down with a clatter on the desk and went over to Julie.

‘All right, Julie?’ she said putting her hands on her shoulders.

Julie nodded her head.

‘Can you stand?’

Julie slowly stood up, then for the first time she allowed her hands to stray to her bottom.

‘Gosh,’ she gasped, with tears still running down her cheeks. ‘There was no need to give me such a tight caning you know.’

Sheila laughed. ‘Yes, the girls tell me that this new cane is a bit on the sharp side. Never mind, it will do you the world of good.’

‘Oww! Look at that one, oh really Johnners that last one is going to show for ages!’ Julie exclaimed.

Sheila laughed again. ‘Come on, put your knickers and skirt back on and I’ll give you a lift home, unless you want to go and have a cry in the toilets.’

‘No, it’s OK. I’ve grown out of crying in the toilets. Ow! Ooh! Gosh, you really did do a good job on me, how on earth am I going to sit through your double period tomorrow?’ Julie gasped.

As Julie and Miss Johns left the school they passed a red-eyed Carol. She beamed at Sheila and said, ‘Good night, Miss. I’m sorry that I misbehaved.’

That was the thing about Miss Sheila Johns. She was the most popular Mistress in the school.