More memories of Miss Rose

You may have already seen my previous mention of Miss Rose, the young Matron who looked after the younger boys when I was a boarder at a prep school on the south coast of England in the 1960s. Here is one particular incident which stands out from all the other times I was subject to her particular brand of discipline. It concerns the only time I ‘shared’ a spanking with another boy.

This incident occurred when I was into my second year at the school, and I was nine years old. That autumn, a new boy, Simon, joined the school and moved into our dormitory. Simon immediately became Matron’s favourite because he was so little and could be very cute when he wanted to be.

Being her favourite had its benefits – you got tucked up at bedtime and sometimes you got to sit on Matron’s knees during story time. I soon became the best of friends with Simon. Being favourite didn’t protect Simon from spankings, however – far from it. In fact, he got more than his fair share of spankings because he could be quite mischievous when he wanted to be and Matron was always on the look-out for him to do something wrong, because I guess she thought he had a particularly spankable bottom.

Whilst we were waiting our term to bat at cricket one day, I decided to teach Simon all the naughty words for bottom and penis that I knew, which was a small number of the ones I now know. Simon just could not bring himself to say any of them at first; he just blushed all over and looked too flustered to speak. I kept trying until, in an attempt stop me pushing him to say anything worse, he said ‘bum!’ loudly as we were changing after games.

Unfortunately, Matron was hidden from us around the corner at the other end of the dormitory, and what was worse was that she was bending down to pick up some socks off the floor. She immediately picked up Simon’s outburst over the noise of 10 small boys all talking at once and, I think, assumed that the word referred to her own bottom in some detrimental fashion.

If she had been in a good mood, she might have found it funny and passed it off with just a ticking off, which in her case consisted of the guilty boy standing in front of her whilst she tapped him repeatedly on his upturned nose with her forefinger as she told him off.

Unfortunately for us, she was in a bad mood due to the noise and mess we were making of her otherwise pristine dormitory. I could see we were in big trouble as soon as she stormed over to us, a terrible silence suddenly ensuing. “Simon, was that you who said that rude word?” “Yes, Miss,” came Simon’s little voice, now squeaky with fear. I stood beside Simon, conscious that I had got him into this trouble. She tore him off a terrific strip, making his lips quiver and tears form in his eyes. I began to get pins and needles in my bottom as I guessed what was soon to follow.

I tried to interject on Simon’s behalf (because I knew my role would come out sooner or later) but to no avail – it just guaranteed me a ticket on what was going to be a very hot double bill. In the back of my mind was the fear that Matron might send us to the Head for punishment, which would mean the slipper or the cane and possibly even a letter back home telling of our vulgarity (the most feared outcome). However, we were spared this outcome.

“You two, stand facing the wall hands on your heads. I will deal with you once the other boys have gone for afternoon break.” That, I knew, meant no biscuits and time for a prolonged session in the bathroom with Matron.

The other boys took about five minutes to clear out. I could sense rather than see their looks of sympathy – daytime spankings from Matron were pretty rare events, reserved for the worst crimes. After the others had left, Matron continued to bustle around, picking up pieces of kit that had gone astray and generally tidying the dormitory up – one could tell that there were going to be more spankings that evening.

Finally, she turned her attention to us. Because we had been changing, I was just dressed in my white games shorts and Simon was in his underpants and socks. “Right!” She grabbed Simon by his elbow. “Come with me, you naughty little boy”. She motioned me to follow. “And you too!”

We were led into the bathroom. Between the two baths was an ordinary chair that Matron pulled out. I was banished to the corner behind her and then Simon was stood before here whilst she lectured him again. “I have been storing up several spankings for you, so now you are going to have them all in one go. Right – let me take your pants down and put you over my lap.” Simon was stripped and over her knee he went, his plump pale little bottom uppermost and his underpants dangling from one ankle.

Fortunately, Matron hadn’t had time to fetch the dreaded hairbrush; she just spanked very hard with her hand. Because I was behind her, I dared to peep. I had never been in the same room as another boy being punished and this was interesting, even though I knew it would be my turn next.

The vigour of the punishment was frightening. Matron really laid into Simon’s bottom with terrific whacks that echoed around the room. His bottom went from palest alabaster through various shades of pink, strawberry and then raspberry as she spanked him red raw.

As boarders, we were supposed to take our punishments without complaint but after about 12 smacks, Simon became increasingly vocal and his free hand began to creep up as though to protect his bottom. Matron saw what was coming, paused briefly and grabbed both his hands to hold them still, then continued to spank him until he was wailing.

Finally. she stopped after what seemed an age of continuous hard spanking and lifted Simon up off her knees. He was very unsteady on his feet and, not unsurprisingly, looked very unhappy. He was sent to stand in the opposite corner, which meant it was my turn.

“Ian – come here!” I was a veteran of many spankings, so I quickly pulled my own shorts and pants down and flopped over her knee to get the spanking started as soon as possible. I held onto the chair legs to keep my hands occupied and Matron spanked me in her controlled, school manner rather than the all-out domestic manner with which she had spanked Simon. Four smacks to each cheek in turn, then four on the other was her standard approach.

As she went through this pattern at least six times, building up a crescendo of stinging pain, I concentrated on the floor in front of me, bit my lips and saw my vision blur as tears came to my eyes. She roasted my bottom with a final six whacks to each buttock and then I was lifted, shivering, from her lap.

In the brief silence that ensued, I was conscious of sniffing and tears coming from both Simon and myself. We were kept standing in our corners for about five minutes before we were allowed to return to the dormitory to dress.

This was the only time I ever shared a spanking with another boy. Afterwards, I remember sitting next to Simon in the classroom with both of us constantly shifting from cheek to cheek as the sting became too much to bear. Our bottoms were still glowing at bedtime, much to the amusement of our friends.

Contributor: Ian

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