Murmurs and a few stifled giggles ran around the room. Every girl knew what that meant. So too did the teachers.

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The shop assistant was indeed a W.I. member, and knew the women in the village. Mummy knew that it would soon be common knowledge that she was now armed. Karen took the note, her hand shaking slightly. She could feel the cheeks on her face flush. “No Mummy I do not have any homework tonight.” From the very first visit to the Girl’s Grammer School, it was made clear that corporal punishment was used. After a tour of the school looking at laboratories, home economic rooms and such like, the new girls were sat, with their Mums. At the end of the ‘Inroductory Speech’ by the Headmistress. It was made perfectly clear that corporal punishment was used to keep any naughty girl in line, and that parents had to sign a consent form to say that they agreed with the school’s Disciplinary Code of Conduct. This caused a mumbling stir in the Assembly Hall and the loins of many girls, as Mummy’s turned to whisper to their child. A poor crying Karen thought it was over, but Mummy was reaching for the slipper. Karen looked to the mirror and saw it, she looked over her shoulder, up to meet her Mummy’s eyes.The journey to the end of the day was like some heroic trek in a fantasy novel. Long and arduous. The lunch time collection of the ‘death sentence’ sent a cold shiver to her tummy. The words left the slip and ran amok in her brain. There before her the words threatened her bottom. Karen remembers the day her adventure at Grammer School began. It was the day she received the letter telling her that she had passed the 11+ exam with flying colours. Almost a minute passed, but it felt longer. Karen looked at her beautiful Mummy, the rounded body looked so cosy and even at this moment strangely comforting, her Mummy bear almost. She saw her Mummy looking at her bush, her hips, she could almost read the thoughts in her head…”My my, my little girl is a girl no more.”

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The door handle slipped in her sweaty palm, the door made a noise far too loud. Mummy sounded so joyous as she shouted, “Hello dear, had a good day? Come and give Mummy a hug, I need one today.” The promised storm arrived on one fateful Spring day. Confidence had grown into over confidence. Self confidence into haughtiness. Pubic hairs had covered her soft pubescent bone, fingers had delved, conversations with friends on the delight of a fingered pussy had taken place. It was one such conversation that made her not even notice her form teacher walk into the classroom. She carried on talking to Barbara, instead of standing up with the rest, to say in a slightly singing way, “Good Morning Miss Weltwell.” Karen took out the envelope containing the slip….the slip…the white crispy slip, the DETENTION SLIP, and walked gingerly by the stairs and into the kitchen. “Hello Mum. I got this today.” In Karen’s case Mummy simply said, “I have signed it, and returned it already. Let me say this just once Karen. If you are ever punished at school, you will be punished again at home, understood?” Karen was on her tummy. She was sniffing now, not crying, and trying to understand the lovely feeling she has in her most intimate area, as she gently pushes up and down on the bed, her bright red bobbing up and down, which she can see, in the mirror, if she looks over. Which of course she does…

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I have just finished the first incident in the ‘Saint Helena High School for Wayward Girls ~ Incident Log’ Without doubt there would be a degree of jealousy from some with troublesome daughters too, and even though she would never admit it, that gave her satisfaction too! Karen listened, and the message sank in. She knew her Mummy did not do idle talk as regards discipline. Protected: A Naughty Little Witch…A Private Little Story for Club Members Only ~ featuring Suzette.

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As she climbed the stairs thoughts of her own upbringing and the spankings she had received raced through her mind, what part of her naughty bottom had taught her the most? What words had her Mummy used to send the message home? What advice from her mentors, the W.I. and the Vicar helped her do what was needed? The memories spoke to her…”Spare the rod, spoil the child.”“It is for her own good.”“She will thank you one day.” All the words looked so official, having been typed by the school secretary. And signed by her teacher in ‘Quink’ blue, fountain pen ink. Karen liked the strange feeling she felt (in a certain in a certain intimate area) at being exposed. Our latest author is Polly Jo who has recently submitted a 12-part serial called The Girl In The Striped Pyjamas. Mummy noticed, and the other W.I.Women noticed. Not only noticed, but mentioned it, in a subtle way. “Your Karen is making a fine young lady, she’ll certainly turns some heads one day!”Mummy looked into the mirror, at this distance it was like a well framed photo, her on the bed, her shapely daughter with her upturned rump fine and round, catching the light. She looked at herself, doing what a good loving Mummy should do…her duty. The Vicar at Saint Hugh’s Church used her as an example many times. “If you are not sure what to do, go and see her, she’ll have probably done it before, she’s marvellous!” 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. Mummy sat on the bed, and slid the slipper deftly under the pillow. Then turned a nervous, worried Karen to face her. “I told you quite plainly Karen, that if you were naughty at school, you would be punished at home.” As she did this she tugged the pyjama bottoms down, to land in a puddle at her daughters ankles.