How is this for a jolt of hotness out of the blue? This post by Lazy Geisha talks about things completely unrelated to any spanking issues, but this part of it still gave us shivers,* insofar as it relates to our punishment kink:

How many times did we all hear it growing up? That ambiguous phrase levied against us by those in authority to let us know that the cigarette we’d just been caught smoking in the girl’s bathroom would forever be enshrined as a black mark against us on our ‘permanent record’. Though some of us were good girls with spotless permanent records, while others (bats eyelashes and looks around the room) have enough black marks checked off to qualify for frequent flyer miles to the gates of hell and back, twice.

So we all know now that they were just full of shit and no one bothered to look at our permanent records ever again, let alone have the faintest idea where such things might be kept. As a young teenage girl I often wondered if there was some kind of publisher’s clearinghouse of permanent records which could be accessed and used against me later on in life… like maybe when I applied for a mortgage the banker would open up the thick manila folder containing all of the indiscretions of a capricious youth only to discover that I sucked down a Newport in thirty seconds in the second stall of the east wing bathroom in between Biology II and Home Economics and got pinched by that dyke gym teacher who was always after us to take longer showers after running a few laps around the track.

In reality I was a very good girl (i.e. I never got caught). I would have been mortified to be thought of as anything but a very good girl (i.e. writing spanking porn under the desk in my history lesson could never, ever been discovered). That said, I don’t think there was a concept of a “permanent record” in my school, and it strikes me as incredibly creepy for just the reasons described above.

I couldn’t even fantacise about the threat relating to other people.

Somehow the concept of a Punishment Book doesn’t have the same undertone of overall creepiness. Maybe it’s that the record is made by date, rather than by name, and therefore serves more as a chronicle of school life than a KGB dossier.

Maybe it’s that there is no pretence of grudge-holding permanence. (You whispered in a lesson in the first grade! No graduation for you!)
Maybe it’s that it’s hard to imagine a threat of an entry in a Punishment Book being more alarming than the punishment itself.

How much nicer, then, is a fantasy of a new Headmaster, who singlehandedly bans any reference to the ridiculous “permanent record”, and teaches his staff that a proper punishment must be timely, appropriate, and effective enough that it doesn’t require any additional repercussions.

After a punishment comes forgiveness. In my inner school, anyway.
Funny how a fantasy school, a strict establishment though it may be, is a much nicer place to be than any school connected with reality.

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* Because reading sex blogs together on a Sunday morning and indulging in mutual shivering is what all couples do. Isn’t it?

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