"Have you learned your lesson, Simon?"
"Yes, Miss Nolan," I said, a little uncertainly.
"Very well. Stand here in front of me and begin."
I stood where she indicated, standing up straight the way I remembered my father telling me to. My heart was pounding because I hadn't the faintest idea what it was I was meant to have learned. I knew it was a poem and I was supposed to have learned it by heart, but the weather was excessively hot and Daniel, the stableman's son, had taken me swimming last night and all thought of the beastly lesson had gone out of my head. We had swum in the pool in the river where all the village boys swam and it had been wonderful with all of us splashing about and diving – till the older lads came along and drove us off.
I looked at the window in the hope that some inspiration might strike. I had remembered my lesson as soon as I got home, but then Miss Peters, my nurse, had grabbed me and sent me straight off to bed and wouldn't let me go to the schoolroom for the book. So I could hardly be blamed for not learning it, I felt.
"'All the world ....'" I began and then stopped.
Miss Nolan was beautiful. She had blonde hair that curled over her ears no matter how much she scraped it back, and blue eyes that were now piercing into mine.
"'All the world's a stage,'" she prompted me, and I did so want to do it right for her.
"'All the world's a stage,'" I repeated. But there was nothing else in my head at all.
"You haven't learned it, Simon, Have you?"
"No, Miss Nolan." I looked into her eyes and saw the anger growing there. I knew that I ought to look down and I dropped my head. Her foot was tapping on the carpet.
"And what did I say last week that I would do if your lessons were not learned?"
"Spank me."
"Yes, and what else?"
"Tell my uncle."
"Should you like me to spank you?"
"No, Miss Nolan."
"Or tell your uncle that you are idle and disobedient?"
"No, Miss Nolan."
"But you have been idle and disobedient, haven't you?"
"Yes, Miss Nolan."
"So you must be well spanked, mustn't you?"
"Yes, Miss Nolan."
The problem was that I only had the vaguest notion of what was meant by spanking. Miss Peters had smacked my legs once or twice and last week Daniel had shown me the stripes of bruise across his bottom that he said were from a whipping that his father had given him. I felt just a little frightened, but much more interested to see what was going to happen.
"Very well. Take off your trousers, please."
It never occurred to me to be surprised or shocked. I just did as I was told. I had to take my sandals off to get my short trousers over my feet, but then I was standing in front of her in just my shirt. Now I saw that in her hand was a large leather slipper which she must have had ready because she hadn't moved at all. I suddenly thought that it was too big to be hers and I wondered whose slipper it was.
"Now. Place yourself across my knee."
I went round to her side and lowered myself across her lap. Her knees were tight together so my top half hung down and my face was only a few inches from the floor. I could just feel the carpet under my toes and I was very conscious of my bottom that was now the uppermost part of my body and covered with just the thin layer of my drawers.
I felt her haul my shirt up till it was bunched up high on my back, and I was even more conscious of my pants stretched tight over my bottom. But then I felt her fingers hooking into the elastic of my knickers, and suddenly they were pulled down sharply and my bottom was naked. There was a pause of a second or two in which I was conscious of the cool air on my skin and then the slipper slapped down on my bottom and I gave a sharp yelp at the suddenness and acuteness of the stinging pain. The second slap made me yell too, but after that I lay still and allowed her to beat me.
She seemed to be getting angrier because the slaps got harder and harder and I lost count of them, but I was determined not to cry out any more. She stopped after a dozen or so. I had managed to take it without any more yelling but I was wriggling about on her lap to escape the steady blows of the slipper. It was the most painful thing I had ever felt – as though my bum was on fire.
"Get up," she ordered and I struggled to my feet. I stood in front of her, my drawers round my knees, both hands clutching at the excruciating stinging in my bottom. "Pull up your drawers." I did so but my hands still rubbed at the stinging.
"Now," she said, "you see that I meant what I said about spanking you if you were disobedient."
"Yes, Miss Nolan."
"After lunch I shall test you again on your lesson. You will have learned it by then, or I shall spank you again. Shall you like to be spanked again?"
"No, Miss Nolan."
"Then you must be sure to learn your lesson well. More than three mistakes and the slipper will get to work on your posteriors. I will not have an idle boy in my charge and your uncle would agree, wouldn't he?"
At lunch I sat with my uncle in the small dining room. My bottom was still smarting from the beating, though now it had faded to a rather pleasant warmth. I had tried, really I had, to learn the beastly poem but it wouldn't go in and was resigned to getting another spanking when I went back to the schoolroom. The thought of it scared me a bit because the slaps hurt, but it was also exciting and I had already recognised that I enjoyed letting down my trousers and pants and lying across her knees.
"I hear Miss Nolan spanked you this morning."
"Yes, Uncle Jeremy."
"Good for her. Did it hurt?"
"Rather."
"Still warm, I expect."
"A bit."
"Good. Have you learned your lesson?"
"I've tried, but I haven't really learned more than a bit of it."
"So, another dose when you go back after lunch, eh?"
"Yes, Uncle Jeremy."
"Finished your lunch?"
"Yes."
"Off you pop then." And then he said something over his bread and butter pudding, which I thought I had misheard and I puzzled over it all the way upstairs to where the slipper was waiting for me. "I wish Miss Nolan would spank my bottom."
I recited the poem as far as I had learned, which was "Then the soldier, something something, full of strange oaths ...." The problem was that I didn't understand it. So it wouldn't stay in my head.
I had prepared a speech, begging her not to spank me again, but now, with no more poem in my head and the slipper in plain view on the desk beside her and her beautiful blue eyes piercing mine, I could not say it.
"Is that it?"
"Yes, Miss Nolan. I'm sorry. I tried to learn it, but you will have to spank me again." And with that I pushed down my trousers, followed them down with my drawers and lowered myself into position over her lap. It was delicious, that moment, longer this time than the first, when I lay there, my bottom naked and glowing, with the cool air wafting between my thighs. Of course, now my backside was tender and each slap of the slipper hurt much more, but I lay still and uncomplaining. Her anger of the morning was gone but I still got a dozen really stinging slaps. I wriggled a bit and my legs jerked and when she allowed me to get up I could feel my face twisting with the effort of not showing how much my tight little buttocks were hurting.
I went to bed that night, my head whirling with the strong new sensations and feelings I had been subjected to. I had known – but didn't know how I knew – that boys were beaten when they were naughty or if they hadn't learned their lessons, so my first spankings were like a sign that I was growing up. Ahead lay a year of Miss Nolan's slipper, and then there would be teachers with canes, and Uncle Jeremy had once threatened to whip him, and Daniel's father used a riding crop on Daniel's bottom, and Daniel was the same age as me. At seven years old, with the night light making patterns on the ceiling, it was all very strange and frightening, but also exciting. My bottom was still a little warm from Miss Nolan's slipper. It felt nice, really, like the bed when the fire had been allowed to burn too late but concentrated in just my rear end. If it wasn't for the awful sting when she hit me I'd have looked forward to being slippered every day.
I knew the poem now, because after the second spanking she had helped me to learn the rest and I had spent the evening making sure that I knew it. I wondered whether it would be fun to put in a few mistakes so that she would spank me again.
I needn't have worried. Over the next year, until I went away to school, Miss Nolan gave me lessons every day, and now that the ice was broken between us, there were plenty of times when I needed a good strong spanking. It was always with the slipper and always on my bare bottom. I counted the whacks and usually she gave me a dozen slaps: sometimes it was a few less and once or twice it was two dozen or three. That was when she was really angry, and after the first dozen it started to become much, much more painful, every slap driving the agony deep into the muscles of my bottom. But I was a sturdy little lad and never yelled for these whackings no matter how bad they were. I was an intelligent boy and learned well, but my streak of laziness and sense of fun led me into trouble very often. Once I was spanked five times before lunch and had to eat standing up, which my uncle thought was hilarious. But there were also weeks when the slipper had no work to do. Other times Miss Nolan would start the lesson with the slipper in her hand and the words, "Time for a good spanking, Simon, I think." I let down my drawers and lay across her lap to be beaten, but without the slightest idea what I had done wrong.
Once, just before he was sent away to school, I had got all my sums wrong and had to be slippered. Miss Nolan stopped spanking me after sixteen slaps and let me up. To my amazement, my willy had gone stiff and was sticking up like a little flagpole.
"Oh, you shameless boy!" she exclaimed. "Over my knees again this second."
I didn't understand what the matter was but I obediently draped myself across her lap a second time. I never minded doing that, as I've said, and by this time I wasn't all that upset by being slippered. I could feel my willy pressed awkwardly between my belly and her thighs and I tried to shift myself so that it was easier.
"Lie still," she insisted. "I shall spank you till you remember yourself."
And with the same the slipper came slapping down on my tender little backside, harder than ever, again and again on the same tender area. After eight or ten smacks I yelped a little and she stopped.
"Have you regained your proper state?" she demanded. I didn't know how to answer, so I remained silent. Suddenly, she pushed her hand in under my belly and her fingers caught hold of my still erect little dick. "No!" she exclaimed. "Not a shred of shame." And the spanking started a third time. And now she kept slapping away at my bottom till I was squirming and yelling, though I was _d_a_m_n_ed if I was going to beg her to stop. At last she did stop though and somehow my dick had gone soft again and she allowed me to get up and pull up my trousers.
I didn't understand it at all, though it was another exciting development that made her punishments even more dangerous and thrilling. At bedtime that night my bottom was still burning and throbbing from the terrific beating I had had.
Soon after that Miss Nolan left and I had to go to school. I was sorry to see her go because she was very beautiful and she had been kind to me. I wasn't sure whether the slipperings were a price I had to pay for being near her, or part of the attraction.