Karen got out and some involuntary action told her to stand to attention. Anything good right now, might stop the severity of what was to come. Somewhat cowed, we finally arrived at our destination. Once we had transferred everything into the house, we ate dinner, and then it was bedtime both us children. The following day, there was still a hostile atmosphere between Mother and I. I remember doing my best to behave and do extra chores in an attempt to get ungrounded. Needless to say, the ploy didn’t work and I was kept in for around a couple of weeks.

Oh shit! Why today, why does she need a hug? Today of all days when I have let her down.” Thought Karen. Hannah lay down crying on her bed and her dad looked at me. “It’s your turn now, Sarah. Come here.” I did so, very reluctantly. “Because you are the one who actually broke the glass, you are going to get 12 spanks,” he told me, then firmly placed me across his knee. Karen liked the strange feeling she felt (in a certain in a certain intimate area) at being exposed.

Finally, the headmistress sat down at the end of a bench alongside a large art table. She grabbed one of the boys, pulled his shorts and pants down, then made him bend over the bench beside her.

A formidable no nonsense women. Her standing in the community was the fuel that drove her on. At Christmas she probably had to do without, to provide a lovely Christmas for her daughter. She was the woman you went to to get something done, Tombolas, Raffles, Carol Concerts to name a few. In short, she was a very much loved and respected member of the village community. Mrs.Weltwaay put the detention slips into envelopes at the end of the school day. Then with a stern face told them to go home.Unbeknown to most of the class, during the lunch break the two boys in question had forced a younger pupil to swallow some marbles. Their victim had been taken to the local hospital as a precaution, but was not seriously harmed – presumably the doctors believed nature would take its course, and the boy would eventually just poo them out again. Karen felt aroused slightly, which made her feel even more of a naughty girl. But stood before Mummy as she scolded her was such a mixture of feelings. Her pubic hair had grown, it was now a delightful mixture of light fair hair with a hint of ginger, like her hair. The mirror of the dressing table was behind her, so Mummy could see her bottom, a bottom she was so proud of, like her new breasts, pert, and pleasingly plump. Once we had all been given a good hiding, Mother again called on the guilty party to confess. Of course, nobody did. For one thing we were all far too busy crying, nursing our sore bums, and of course we all feared confession would lead to another dose of that slipper, or worse. Around three weeks afterwards, the unthinkable happened – and I got my last ever spanking from Mother. Mummy was a perfect product of the 1950’s. A dutiful housewife who had kept an excellent house since the day she married. Sadly her husband was no longer around, but stoically, with a stiff upper lip and a gallon of fortitude, she had carried on running the house, her home, with pride.