The headmaster can no longer administer corporal punishment to a girl, so he calls in her mother

By Samantha

Allison White picked up the phone at Smith and White law office, her secretary having just gone home.


“Mrs. White?”


“It’s John Frank at St. Agnes. About your daughter. I’m going to have to suspend her.”

“Oh dear, do you have to. It’s only six weeks before the exams.”

“Allison, in the old days it would have been different as you know from personal experience. Now we can’t deal with our misbehaving students in a sensible way and suspension is the only option in some cases.”

Allison knew very well what he meant. She had been sent to the headmistress’s study more than once when she was a girl, and on the last occasion had arrived in front of the Headmaster to receive a dozen on her bare bottom. It had certainly improved her behavior. Her father had been so angry that he had caned her that evening in front of her two sisters. She still remembered and sometimes wanted to be caned again, but suggestions to her husband that he should even give her a spanking had been laughed off.

Now she had to deal with her daughter’s problem. The suspension would mean that she would not be able to sit the exams. In her day she would have had six of the best on her bottom or perhaps more, perhaps even a dozen, and she might then have become a lawyer too. Damn! Now she wouldn’t be able to do the exams which would allow her to go to university, at least not this year.

She drove to the school, and walked in to the secretary’s anteroom.

“You can go right in, he’s waiting for you.” The secretary said.

The room looked much the same as it had when she had been punished twenty years before. The desk she had been bent over was the same. The hooks where the row of canes had hung were still there, without any canes. The man sitting behind the desk was the same, only twenty years older. Her eighteen year old daughter stood in front of the desk, obviously unhappy about what the head had been telling her.

“Allison,” the man said. “I’m sorry we have to meet again like this, but your daughter has really gone too far. And I can think of nothing else but to suspend her for the rest of the term. You know the rules as well as I do. If I were to cane her, which is what she needs, then I would be committing an assault.”

“What has she been up to?”

“She has skipped school several times, she has copied another girl’s work, we know because her mistakes are exactly the same. She acts the fool in class and has had two of my teachers in tears, and has bullied another girl on Facebook.”

“I see what you mean. Is there nothing we can do apart from suspending her?”

“Alison, I will not have my teachers abused, or permit a pupil bullying other girls. It’s a pity because I think she has some good in her, and she’s bright enough to get a scholarship, but since I can’t give her a good thrashing I have no alternative.”

Alison thought for a moment. “Suppose she had a caning at home.”

“Look my dear, I understand how you feel, but have you ever used a cane, or have you even got one?”

“I have caned one of my daughters but the cane broke on the third stroke.”

“So, you have no experience and no cane?”

“Yes I suppose so.”

“Are you really prepared to punish her the way we used to punish the girls who couldn’t behave?”

“Yes I think so.”

The head turned from the mother to the daughter. “You’ve heard all this. Are you prepared to take a really painful caning to avoid a suspension and be allowed to take the exams?”

Heather looked at her mother and then at the head and swallowed.

“What would it be like?”

The head said, “Tell her Allison.”

“You’d have to take your clothes off below the waist and then bend right over. The cane is long and thin and whippy and you would get whacked on your bare bottom very hard. As it’s your first time perhaps only six strokes although you should really get twelve. It would be the most painful thing you could imagine. If you stood up you would have extra. It would leave purple welts on your bottom which would take a couple of weeks to go. Your friends would all want to see the marks and might snigger when they saw you. If you can take that then you should agree to have a caning.”

Heather gulped. “Who would do it?”

“Probably me, if I can get a cane.”

The head spoke. “Mary can give you information on that.”

Heather was looking pale. “Do I really have to have my knickers off?”

Allison looked at her daughter, remembering the embarrassment she had felt herself. “Yes I’m afraid so darling, that’s part of the deal.”

“When would it be?”

The head looked at Allison. “You will be able to get a cane if you go right away so it should all be taken care of in an hour.”

Heather took a big breath. “Mum, I could say sorry to everyone?”

“Darling, you’ll do that anyway, but if you have a sore bottom that will remind you to behave yourself for a while. Make up your mind.”

“All right I’ll do it. But couldn’t I keep my knickers on.”

“Definitely not darling. Come on.”

Mary, the secretary, gave her a slip of paper with an address written on it, and phoned to make an appointment. They were apparently expecting them and told her to send them down right away.

Heather was silent until they were parked outside an old building then said: “Mum have you really had the cane?”

“Yes dear I have.”

“What’s it like?” Her daughter asked again.

“It’s embarrassing as you can imagine as you’ve got nothing on below the waist, and when you’re bent over they can see everything. It hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt and you’ll probably feel it for an hour or so and it will hurt to sit down, but then it will be all over.”

“Mum do you really have to do it that hard?”

“My darling, I’m going to have to punish you in a way you will remember and that means it will be hard. Come on, let’s go and buy a cane.”

The address she had been given turned out to be an old fashioned shop. Inside were shelves covered with school books. A pleasant middle aged lady behind the counter looked at them.

“You must be Mrs. White and Heather, come on through.” She opened a door behind the counter and led them down a short corridor and opened a heavy door into a large room. The walls were covered with an assortment of straps, spanking paddles and innumerable canes. The floor was bare apart from a pine table, a wooden chair, and what Allison assumed was a punishment block with straps to hold reluctant girls or boys. A tall middle aged woman stood waiting for them. Allison recognized the headmistress from her time at school, now presumably retired.

“Allison she said, how nice to see you again, and this must be your daughter, Heather isn’t it? I understand you want a cane, presumably for Heather. From what Mary told me she needs a caning. Pity they’re not allowed to use corporal punishment in schools any more. Some girls certainly need it. What I would suggest is a medium cane about three feet long, and nice and flexible. We have some excellent ones here.”

She selected a slim yellow cane with a crook handle, examined it carefully and gave it a little swing through the air. The tip of the cane drooped slightly.

“This is a nice one, bendy, not too thick. It will sting like fire and produce some nice stripes. You should use it on the bare or over thin knickers or it won’t be so effective. I assume that’s what you are planning.”

“Yes of course, Mrs. Platt.” Allison said.

“What do you think Heather?” The woman said.

Heather said nothing.

“What! Lost your tongue dear? This is for your own good you know. Hold it, see what you think, see how nicely it bends. I think it should curl nicely round your bottom.”

She held out the cane but Heather shrank away.

“What do you think Allison? Give it a bit of a swish.”

Allison took the cane bending it between her hands, then stood back and took a couple of practice swings making it hiss through the air.

“Yes, that should do very nicely.”

“Then we seem to be ready. Are you going to stay still, Heather, or would you like to be fastened down? The rule is that if you stand up you get extra strokes so it might be worthwhile to go over the punishment block.”

Heather took a big breath. “I don’t want to be strapped down. I’ll bend over the table. What do you want me to do?”

“Skirt off dear, and knickers.”

Heather undid her skirt revealing brief almost transparent knickers quite unsuitable for school. Most of her bottom was uncovered and the cane would have landed nicely on bare skin if the revealing garment was left on, however she did as she was told and the flimsy garment joined her skirt on the chair.

“Bend over the table darling,” Allison said. “Hold tightly onto the sides.”

Heather obeyed, a tear already in her eye, and her school blouse up around her waist. Allison handed the cane to the woman saying: “Would you please give her two demonstration strokes, I’m not sure how hard to do it.”

The woman took the cane touched it to the girl’s bottom, brought it back slowly and down hard, making it hiss through the air to crack down on the girl’s naked bottom. Heather jerked back and let out a gasp, almost letting go of the table before settling back to receive the next stroke.

“No need to bring the cane back above your head, try to use the wrist and it will give a perfectly satisfactory result.”

She brought the cane back again and down in another whistling stroke. Heather grunted with pain and couldn’t help jerking back once more. The woman passed the cane to Allison.

“Right, not too hard with the first couple, concentrate on control. I’ve given her two nice parallel marks to aim for. Then I would suggest you give her six hard ones after that, which would make eight real strokes. I don’t think any less would be considered enough to let her off a month’s suspension.”

Allison took the cane, touched it to her daughter’s bottom, brought it back and down tentatively. Her daughter hardly moved. She gave her the next a bit harder, and Heather made a face. There were two faint pink marks. This was obviously doing no good and she swung the cane back and down harder with a crack which made the girl gasp.

“Hold tight Heather,” she said. “The next five will be hard.”

The marks she produced in the next minute were not evenly spaced or perfectly straight. She gave her a couple below the fold of her bottom, a place which she knew from experience to be particularly painful. Heather let out a series of yelps and began to cry after the fourth stroke. The sixth and last stroke was the hardest of all, and she jumped up clutching her bottom and dancing. Allison stood holding the cane and staring at her. Heather looked at her mother’s face.

“Oh Mum I took the whole caning before I stood up.”

“Sorry darling, you were warned, bend over again.”

“Please Mum not so hard.”

“Bend over at once girl.”

Allison watched as her daughter clutched the table, her body heaving with her sobs and was tempted to ease up with the extra strokes, but Mrs. Platt must have divined her intention.

“You must do it properly, that’s what you said would happen. Don’t forget what she’s done and the trouble she’s caused you as well.”

Allison hardened her heart, touched the cane to her daughter’s bottom and brought it down in a hissing stroke, causing a loud yell. She swung the cane for a final stroke producing an even louder shriek.

“All right darling, you can get up.”

Mrs. Platt handed her a Kleenex. “Here, blow your nose.”

Outside Allison paid for two canes in case one broke.

“It sounded as if you made a good selection. I’d say you did a pretty good job.” The woman at the counter said.

Heather gave her bottom a rub. “She’s too good, it still hurts like hell.”

“You must have deserved it dear.”

“I suppose so.”

In the car she was silent for a while then said, “Mum that really hurt.”

“It has to, to do any good.”

“When you had the cane, did it hurt that much?”

Allison thought back to the time her bare bottom had been caned by an angry headmaster. “Yes darling I had it from a man and got twelve strokes.”

‘I hope I never get that.”

“Well you’ll have to behave won’t you, because we’ve got a cane now, and a spare in case one breaks.”

Somehow mother and daughter knew that there was likely to be another time.

The End