BEXHILL SCHOOL

It had been so little to ask: when she went down to the shops with her friends, would Alex please bring back a bottle of olive oil. They had friends coming for supper that night night and the oil was needed for the salad dressing: everything else, lemons, vinegar, all the other ingredients were there - but they were out of oil.

The wretched girl had returned late and dashed upstairs, emerging from her room a few minutes later to show off the new yellow dress she had bought to wear that evening. And a nice new pair of shoes: apparently they'd taken simply ages to find. But when her mother asked tentatively about the olive oil, Alex had put her hand to her mouth and looked aghast: she'd forgotten all about it.

It was the absolute limit. Couldn't the wretched teenager ever remember anything that didn't concern her directly? 

The shops were now closed: there was nowhere they would find any oil at this time of night and the guests were due in half an hour. Was she really going to have to offer her husband's boss - and his wife and the good-looking son (in who's honour Alex was doing all the preening) - an undressed salad? Oh God - what was she to do?

Well, time might be short, but there was one thing that would make her feel better - a lot better, in fact. She grabbed Alex's wrist, marched over to a chair, and sat down. When Alex realised what was about to happen, she started to protest. Too late, much too late. She was pulled forcefully over her mother's knee, felt the skirt of her beautiful new dress being lifted and her knickers yanked down. Her mother always spanked hard, but never more so than when was she really​ angry, as she was now. Alex yelled and yelled, but there was to be no respite until, a few minutes later, her mother suddenly had a brainwave.

"Alex, stand up. Dash next door to Mrs Evans. She's just been on holiday in Spain and I remember that she told me that she'd brought back a bottle of special olive oil. See if she'll lend us some. And if you come back empty-handed, you'll be over my knee again, so you'd better be persuasive."