LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Every Schoolgirl Needs Discipline
Nothing embodies wholesome feminine charm so much as the English schoolgirl. The girl who walked down Abbott Close in Merseyside that autumn day was a perfect example. She was wearing a navy blue school blazer over her white school blouse. Her short skirt was grey and red tartan. She wore black Mary Jane shoes; her slim calves were covered with thick white stockings.

Her face was a picture of youth and innocence, from the rosy glow on her cheeks to her deep blue eyes that peered out through oversized tortoiseshell glasses. A beret, whose colour matched the school blazer, sat atop her head. From it spilled her chestnut hair, trimmed in short bangs on her forehead; she had woven part of her hair into two shoulder-length braids.

Carrying her canvas book bag by a strap across her shoulder, the girl mounted the steps of a semi-detached and rang the doorbell. The door opened to reveal a middle-aged man, with thinning dark hair that was grey along the sides.

He was well-dressed, wearing a white shirt beneath a sleeveless cardigan sweater. His trousers were dark wool, his shoes brown, of wing-tip design. The man had about him an air of authority; a man who was fair-minded yet stern, with no tolerance for misbehaviour.

"Well now. Hello, Pamela," he said in an even voice.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bishop," the girl replied. The mere sight of the man brought a faint blush to her cheeks, a slight tremor to her voice.

"Come in, young lady."

Pamela did so, removing her beret and placing it, along with her bag, on the divan when Mr. Bishop instructed her to do so. "You're five minutes late," he remarked.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bishop."

"Ah well, it's the way of young people these days. I've laid out some tea and biscuits on the dining table. Shall we have some as we talk?"

"Yes sir."

Mr. Bishop poured Typhoo tea for them both. Pamela nibbled on a Bakewell tart as the man took a sip of tea and began to speak.

"Pamela, I called you here today to discuss your problems. I can't begin to say what a disappointment you've been to all of us at Charters Academy."

"I'm sorry, sir," she murmured.

His grey eyes now cold, Mr. Bishop went on, "You neglect your studies; you're insolent to the other teachers. And I've heard shocking, scandalous rumours about you. I pray they aren't true."

The girl's blue eyes were now wide with anxiety. "What rumours, sir?"

"If you must know, one involves Lesley Collier. I'm told that you and she ... well, I can hardly say it. That you and Lesley were caught kissing each other in the art class storage room. Kissing rather passionately, I'm told."

The young girl, now blushing intensely, bowed her head but said nothing.

"Well," said Mr. Bishop, "is there any truth to this?"

The girl heaved a sigh. "Yes sir, it's true."