Schoolgirl Judy and the Full Moon

   
 02/05/2018    spanking

Judy discovers the uncomfortable consequences of flaunting her lace knickers in another photo-story from The Hardwood Academy, a very traditional finishing school for young ladies.


Schoolgirl Judy and the Full Moon

Dr Bernie Bottomley glanced up at the wall clock as Judy entered his office. Still feeling like a relative new-boy (less than a month had passed since his appointment as Headmaster of the Hardwood Academy) he was already well known as a stickler for good time-keeping, and Judy had very wisely arrived on the dot of 9:30.

"Judy, thank you for coming to see me," Dr Bottomley began rather amiably. "I happened to be speaking to your tutor yesterday and a few of the things he told me sounded like they might require, shall we say, a little bit of a follow up."

"Err, yes sir?" Judy replied, not at all sure where this enquiry was headed.

"Needless to say I was fascinated when he told me about your work in astronomy, especially as I hadn't been aware we even had an astronomy course here at Hardwood." Seeing the lack of comprehension on Judy's face, he continued. "I understand you have been helping some of your fellow students learn about," he paused for emphasis, "the moon."

Judy fidgeted nervously and looked down at the carpet.

"Ah-ha. I see the penny has dropped. Mooning your classmates to be precise! I suppose technically it wasn't a full moon, if we are sticking with our astronomy metaphor, but I think I can safely say that everyone present got an eyeful more than they bargained for."

"As you well know, we are a finishing school for young ladies, with ladies being the operative word. You are one of our senior students, not to mention Head Girl, so do you honestly think that it's ladylike behaviour to go around exposing your bare bottom in public?"

"But, like you said yourself, it wasn't my full bottom!"

Dr Bottomley was rising from his chair so that he could move around to Judy's side of the desk, and pretended not to hear this foolishly cheeky retort.

"Fortunately," he resumed, "it just so happens that I know of a very effective technique that will probably make you want to keep your bottom out of the public view for quite some time. Rest assured that I will be more than happy to repeat the course should it ever become necessary."

Taking the naughty girl by her upper arm, he led her to a wooden stool beside his office wall. "Place both your hands on the stool and remain there until I instruct you to stand."

Nervously she obeyed, feeling the headmasters fingertips gingerly lift the hem of her navy blue, pleated dress. With a gasp she realised her lace boyshorts, hugging the curves of her peachy bottom, would now be on full display. In dismay she realised they were about as far removed from the official uniform policy as it was possible to get.

Without further preliminaries, Judy heard the crack of Dr Bernie Bottomley's hand impacting firmly on the seat of her pants. A split second later a surge of warmth and a prickly sting filled her bottom. There was little opportunity to ponder this humiliating sensation before his hand was back, marking out a percussive rhythm - crack, crack, crack - stoking a fiery heat while her cheeks bounced and her heart raced.

After a minute that felt more like an hour, he paused to ask, "Remind me Judy, does our uniform policy permit students to wear almost transparent, black lace knickers?"

There was a second's hesitation, followed by the sullen reply, "No sir."

"No sir, it does not sir. You are absolutely correct," and inserting the index finger of each hand into her waistband, he whisked them down in a smooth movement that sent them tumbling to the floor where they lay, bunched unceremoniously around her ankles.

Horrified by the awful, amplified exposure of her bottom, she braced herself for the next onslaught of his right hand. He addressed her rapidly reddening cheeks, playing each perky orb with a degree of flourish and dexterity that one might normally expect to see from an accomplished player of the jungle bongos.

Quite unexpectedly, a particularly resounding spank that seemed to echo from the nearby walls sent her bolt upright, flinging both hands back in a desperate bid to cover her bottom. She hesitated, expecting at any moment to hear the stern voice of Dr Bottomley demanding that she return to the prescribed position, but without a word he gently guided her wrists upward into the small of her back.

"I'm glad the message finally seems to be getting through," he told her. "And I think a dozen more will ensure your full cooperation with our school uniform policy in future. Be warned, any more of this hand waving nonsense and we will begin again!"

Accompanied by the sound of her indignant gasps and barely stifled yelps of protest, she silently counted from one to twelve, resolutely determined to give him no excuse to resume again at number one.

The change in pace was dramatic, as was the degree of force he threw behind each and every spank. Pausing for ten seconds or more, Dr Bottomley wound back his arm and delivered his right palm to Judy's bottom with full force and perfect aim.

Her spanking concluded in a blistering creshendo whose sting rang out and continued reverberating long after Dr Bottomley's hand had finally come to rest. His broad, almost leathery palm had tanned her behind to such an extent that she could easily have believed she had been on the receiving and of a slipper, or the dreaded school plimsoll.

When finally he instructed her to stand and face the corner, the throbbing sting that ebbed and flowed in long, tingling waves throughout her backside left her almost hopping from foot to foot. As was the habitual routine at The Hardwood Academy, she knew better than to rub her sore bottom until she was dismissed from the office and she awkwardly clasped her hands in front of her as she stood, awaiting his permission to depart.

If there was one thing of which she was absolutely certain, it was that her bottom had definitely had more than its fair share of exposure for the time being, and she had no desire to bare it again, least of all to that fearsome right hand of the new headmaster.

Five minutes later she scampered down the corridor, red-faced and contrite, her hands clasped tightly to her bottom, and praying that nobody would see her while she hurried to rejoin her class...


Summary

The outfit featured in the story is a Lovehoney Classified Schoolgirl Set. We also featured it in these posts:

We'd very much welcome any feedback and suggestions in the comments below. We both love the concept of the impact photo, pioneered in the early days by Janus Magazine and the photographer Vic Barnes in particular. For several months we've been refining our own technique for capturing the moment, and we're certainly capturing more hits than misses with our current method. As they always say... practice makes perfect! ;-)

Hope you enjoy! x





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