Twin sisters experience an old school tradition

 By Julie Baker


We are the identical twin York sisters born in January 1967. We were christened Angela and Susan and we have no other siblings. Our parents run a successful haulage business based in Belfast and our family is from the Catholic part of our community. However we have never been a particularly religious family and we certainly were not involved in any political activities at any time. We have always been happy and content with what life has given us and have chosen to live quietly within our lovely city.

We have therefore been lucky with our upbringing, but we have also been fortunate with the attributes that we have inherited from our parents. We were both gifted academically at school, we were good at most sports and had outward going personalities which meant that we always had a wide circle of friends. We also inherited our mother’s good looks. We have dark, almost black, straight hair, attractive faces and well toned athletic bodies. Our skin is soft and dark in tone to the extent that people are often asking us if we have been away on holiday. We are tall and slim with firm breasts and tight firm bottoms. We have never been short of boys to ask us out on a date.

We went to a local private girls school in Belfast until we were 13. It was a mixed faith establishment and we were blissfully happy. However the school had no sixth form so our parents decided to send us away to a convent school about 40 miles away from where we lived. This was too far to travel each day so it was decided that we would board. We were quite content with this as we had each other and we knew that we would rapidly make new friends.

We loved our new school. The discipline was much stricter but we were naturally good girls and were almost never in trouble with the teachers. The younger girls were slippered over their knickers if the need arose but this wasn’t a particularly regular occurrence and certainly we were not punished in this way during out time there. Sixth form girls, in theory, could be punished by Sister Joan, the Head Teacher, with a cane. We think that two girls might have been caned in the first year we were at this school but we were not aware of anyone else being subjected to this type of punishment.

We had to wear school uniform throughout our time there. This consisted of a standard long sleeved white blouse, a light blue blazer, a dark pleated skirt which came down to just above our knees, white cotton panties, long white socks and flat soled black shoes. The colours suited our complexions, so we were perfectly content with this arrangement.

Finally we must make you aware that we were twin sisters and we were inseparable. We spent as much time together as was possible during our school years and even now we live in Belfast within a mile of each other and we talk on the phone everyday. We are both now married with families but we still get together to do something almost every weekend.

Susan’s Story

I am the younger of the two of us, born 45 minutes after my sister. I’m still not sure whether being the youngest of twins has made any significant difference to my relationship with Angela or how I have gone on to progress in life. I genuinely don’t know the answer to this but, if pushed, I would say that it hasn’t had any impact on me. I have always felt equal with my sister and neither of us is obviously more dominant than the other in personality.

One difference between us was that in the sixth form I opted to study arts type subjects whereas Angela went for science A levels. This meant that we weren’t attending the same classes but we still saw plenty of each other during sports periods and during leisure time. My school days passed uneventfully and, in our final year, my sister and I worked hard towards our exams. There were about 300 girls at the school and in that final year I had been appointed as a school prefect. This did take up some time but the behaviour in the school was generally good and there were few incidents to deal with.

However, in the first week back after the Easter holidays, my school world did temporarily unravel.

One of my A level subjects was history. There were three other girls on the same course; Anne, Dianne and Jenifer. I particularly got on well with Anne but, although the other two were quite different to me, we were a good unit who always tried to help each other. To fully understand what happened I will need to explain a bit about how the school was laid out. The main school building was an old stately home that had been gifted to the nuns after the Great War by the original family due to a lack of heirs. It was run as a religious order for many years but was converted to a school in the early 1950s. The building functioned well but there were loads of quirky rooms that were adapted for school use.

One such room was at the top of a turret and this is where we had our A Level history lessons. There was a single steep stairway leading to it and it had windows on three sides affording magnificent views over the surrounding countryside. Due to its isolated position the nuns had converted a large cupboard on the back wall into a small toilet for use by pupils and staff.

Our history teacher was called Sister Terry. She was in her early 30s and we loved her. She was easy going, friendly and really knew her subject. We worked hard for her and we all subsequently achieved top grades in our A level exams. We had four double periods for history each week with Friday being the only day that we didn’t see Sister Terry.

On the first Tuesday back after our break we noticed that Sister Terry looked troubled when she came into the room at the start of our lesson.

“I’ve got something that I need to ask you girls,” she opened up with. “If you remember, yesterday I arrived for your lesson before you and quickly used the toilet off this room. We then had our lesson and I nipped back into the toilet after you had all left. I found this in there.”

She held up a small plastic bag with a white powder clearly visible within it.

“I’ve had it checked and this is cocaine.”

There was a stunned silence.

“Unfortunately it must have been left in there by one of you girls. I’ve spoken to Sister Joan and she has agreed that initially I should speak to all of you myself to find out who is responsible. Please could the girl who left this packet in the toilet please make herself known to me.”

Nobody spoke for what felt like about five minutes.

“Alright, if nobody is going to own up to me I will need to get Sister Joan to talk to you. This is your last chance.”

Still nobody spoke and Sister Terry disappeared down the stairs. We all looked at each other. I knew that I was innocent and I was also certain that Anne would have played no part in this. I wasn’t so sure about the other two but I would imagine that whoever was the culprit would already have worked out that this was an expulsion issue. To be honest, under the circumstances, I don’t blame whoever it was for keeping quiet given how close we were to our exams.

Sister Joan, who was in her mid 50s and a much sterner proposition, was soon stood in front of us. She must have harangued us for a good 30 minutes, but it became clear that nobody was going to own up. Looking back, I can see that this put her in a very difficult position. She clearly couldn’t ignore the fact that drugs had been discovered within her school. She could have called in the police but this would have been bad for the reputation of the school and at this point she would lose control of the situation. She then played her final, somewhat desperate, card.

“If none of you are prepared to accept responsibility then I will cane you all. I’ll give you 10 minutes together and if nobody has stepped forward to take the blame by the time I come back then you will all be accompanying me to my study.”

With that, she and Sister Terry left the four of us alone. I would have to say that during those 10 minutes there was no pressure applied to anyone to own up. We all denied that we were responsible and that is really as far as we could get. One of us was lying but I felt that there wasn’t much that I could do about it.

Sister Joan returned on her own and when it became obvious that she was not going to get a result she asked us all to follow her downstairs. She must have anticipated the outcome because when we got into her study we noticed that she had cleared the top of her desk and that the head girl was standing by the window. I hadn’t realised, but the procedure was that any caning of a sixth form girl had to be witnessed by the head girl and at this point I knew that Sister Joan really meant what she had threatened.

She once again lectured us on the dangers of drug abuse and expressed how disappointed she was that nobody had come forward to take responsibility for this incident.

“I will now cane you each in turn,” she said at the end of her lecture. “Go and stand outside in a line in alphabetical order and I will call you in when I’m ready.”

The four of us went back outside into the corridor. Anne was already in tears and she spoke first.

“As I’m an Agnew, that’s going to put me first,” she sobbed.

I felt so sorry for her as I knew this had nothing to do with her. I put my arm round her shoulders.

“Be brave. It will soon be over,” I said to her.

We were soon lined up. Anne first, Jenifer second, Dianne third and me, being a York, last.

Soon a voice from behind the door was calling Anne to go in. After she had closed the door behind her the three of us waited for something to happen. We heard nothing until the unmistakable sound of the first cane stroke landing on Anne’s bottom was audible. It sounded horrific. Anne had quite a slight build and the thought of her having to endure a tough caning was almost too much to bear. I counted the cane strokes and when it got to six I was praying that Sister Joan would deem that to be enough. Two more followed but to Anne’s credit she made no noise. We heard the door handle turn and she was soon back with us in the passage.

Her face was streaked with tears and she said nothing as she walked stiffly away from the scene of her punishment. However there was one detail that made my blood run cold. In her left hand I could see that she was carrying her white school panties. Surely we were not going to have to endure the cane on our bare bottoms?

Jenifer was next to be called in. I thought she might fare a bit better as she had a more substantial build, but it tuned out that her way of dealing with the situation was to bellow out after every cane stroke. We could hear Sister Joan telling her to be quiet but it didn’t seem to make much difference. She reappeared after her eight strokes, again with her knickers dangling from her hand. This totally confirmed to me that I wasn’t going to be allowed the protection and modesty that my underwear might provide.

Dianne, next in line, was a very pretty girl with long blond hair, fair complexion and willowy figure. I wasn’t sure how she would get on with Sister Joan’s cane. The same routine followed with the sound of the cane landing on what I now knew to be naked flesh. The cane strokes kept on coming and I could her low moaning noises from Dianne after each stroke.

It was not long before she was also heading down the passage leaving me to face Sister Joan alone. Dianne was also holding her panties in her hand but as she walked away from me she raised her skirt to rub her bottom and I was afforded a view of her cane marks that I would rather not have seen. Her pale skin was marked with livid red stripes and I was left thinking that Anne was the lucky one. She had to go first with no time to prepare but seeing and hearing what I had, made the whole ordeal in my opinion far worse for me.

It wasn’t long before my name was being called out. I turned the door knob and went in. Sister Joan was standing at the end of her desk and the other girl positioned just inside the door.

“OK, Susan, I want you to take off your blazer and hang it on the back of that chair.”  She motioned to a hard back chair by the window.

“Please then remove your knickers and hand them to me.”

Taking off my blazer was no problem but I could feel my hands shaking uncontrollably as I lowered my panties and stepped out of them. I handed them to Sister Joan who then passed them on to the head girl. Having a bare bottom under my skirt already felt strange and, without thinking, I gently caressed the smooth skin on my lower buttock with my right hand. I knew that in a few minutes my smooth, unblemished skin would be rough and raw.

Sister Joan was continuing her instructions.

“Stand in front of my desk with your legs together and bend over so that your upper body is flat on the desk surface and your hands are gripping the far edge of the desk. I want you to be still while I’m caning your bottom. When I’ve finished I will tell you to get up and you are then free to go.”

I did as instructed and soon it was the dreaded moment when I could feel Sister Joan raising the back of my skirt and laying it flat along my back. The skirt was heavily pleated and the front still hung as normal down the side of the desk. I next felt the wooden cane resting gently on my bottom. It was totally wrong that I, an innocent person, was in this position but I was determined to take the caning with minimal fuss. This bit was much harder than I had anticipated.

The first cane stroke cracked into my naked and unprotected bottom. Many people in their life won’t experience this but I can tell you nothing could prepare you far that initial shock to the system. There is a split second delay before the pain explodes in your bottom. At that moment nothing else in the world is important beyond trying to comprehend the degree of pain and trying to work out how any further strokes might be endured.

“One,” said Sister Joan in a barely audible voice. I guessed she did this for her own benefit so that there was no danger of the punishment being too much or too little.

The cane strokes kept on coming. She was leaving gaps of around 10 seconds between strokes and she was resting the cane back onto my skin during this time. Feeling the cane resting like this was a reminder of what I was going through but predictably the worst moment was between feeling the cane leave your skin and the next blow arriving. It was a horrible prospect!

By the time I got through to five, six, seven strokes I was starting to build a bit of resilience but the eighth and last stroke totally broke my resistance. It was the only time I let out an involuntary yelp and I collapsed onto the surface of the desk in floods of tears.

“You can get up now, Susan,” I heard Sister Joan say.

As I stood up my skirt fell back into place and Sister Joan looked quite sorry for me.  She briefly took me into her arms.

“Well done, Susan, you took that well,” she whispered in my ear. “I know it wasn’t you.”

With that, I turned to go and was handed my panties as I left the room.

Angela’s Story

One day in the summer term when I was in the lower sixth I was called to see Sister Joan in her study.

“Angela,” she said. “I have been very impressed with the way that you have conducted yourself this year and you are my first choice to be head girl next year. This is a considerable honour and there is no doubt that having this on your CV in future will help you in later life. However I must explain to you in detail the implications of taking this position and then you will need to go away and think about it before giving me a decision.”

I couldn’t really see where this was heading at that moment but I nodded as a signal for Sister Joan to continue.

“The role entails all that you would expect from taking this position. You will be in charge of the school prefects, you will have regular meetings with me to discuss school matters and you will be a role model for the younger pupils. However, I must explain to you one of the school traditions that has been in place since we were founded a few years after the last war. Discipline of the lower school is quite straight forward, with misdemeanours being dealt with by lines, detentions and the occasional slippering. The senior girls are more difficult and it will explicitly be your responsibility to ensure that there are no major incidents amongst the upper and lower sixth forms. I have the right to cane girls in the upper school although it is more than five years since I’ve had to do this. However, if I do have to cane a girl whilst you are head girl than I shall cane you also. It’s the principal of collective responsibility. If I need to cane someone then, in effect, you have let me and yourself down by allowing it to happen. Have I made myself clear?”

I had vaguely heard about this tradition before but it had generally been dismissed as a bit of a school myth. The offer of the headship and this caveat had totally taken me by surprise and I agreed that I would think about it for a couple of days and then see Sister Joan again.

I told Susan about the offer but, unusually in our relationship, I decided not to tell her about the possibility of me being caned for someone else’s misdemeanour. Usually we are open and honest with each other about everything, but in my mind this eventuality was unlikely and I didn’t want her to worry about it. She seemed to be genuinely thrilled for me and, of course, from her perspective, could see no reason for me to turn it down. I therefore saw Sister Joan again and accepted.

All went well until the first week back after the Easter holidays. It was Tuesday afternoon and I was in the middle of a biology lesson. Sister Terry knocked on the door and poked her head round the corner. She excused herself to my teacher and then said that Sister Joan would like to see me immediately in her study. When I got there she looked a little flustered and quickly explained that some drugs had been found in a toilet and that one of four girls was responsible but not one of them would own up. She confessed that she had made no progress and that she had left them for 10 minutes to see if they could sort it out amongst themselves. She wasn’t hopeful despite threatening them all with the cane if nobody owned up.

“I have to tell you, Angela, one of them is your sister.” My heart sank. I knew that I would have to act as a witness and I  also knew that it would break my heart to see my beautiful sister caned for something I’m sure she would not have been responsible for.

“Wait here, please,” she continued. “If we are lucky we will identify the culprit, otherwise I’m afraid I’ll need you to witness the punishments.”

With that, she left me in the study while she headed upstairs. I could feel my heart thumping and I wasn’t sure if this was due to the prospect of seeing four girls caned, including my sister, or whether it was the thought that I might too be in for a sore bottom. It wasn’t long before Sister Joan was back down in her study along with the four girls. She gave them another severe grilling before telling them to go back outside her study, line up in alphabetical order and wait for them to be called in individually for their punishments.

“Angela,” Sister Joan instructed me. “I want you to stand by the door and witness the canings. You won’t be required to do anything other than take each girl’s knickers from me before they are punished and hand them back to them as they leave. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes, Sister Joan,” I replied.

“OK, I’ll call the first girl in.”

I had already worked out that Anne would be the first one in, given that they had lined up alphabetically. She looked incredibly nervous as she listened to Sister Joan’s instructions and I felt sorry for her, given that she was not a strong girl and almost certainly she was not the culprit. Before long though, she was laid on top of the desk, her skirt raised and her bottom offered up to Sister Joan to receive the cane. I was astonished how well she took it. Hardly a murmur escaped her lips. However, as I handed her panties to her afterwards, I could see the tears running down her cheeks. She had been badly hurt.

Next in was Jenifer who had a much more substantial build. Her bottom was quite ample and as the cane strokes landed I could her skin indenting and waves of flesh radiating out upwards and downwards from the site of the impact. Every stroke was followed by load wails from Jenifer and at one point Sister Joan had to ask her to be quiet. I couldn’t help thinking about the girls left in the corridor and the effect this fuss would be having on them.

The pretty and slim Dianne was next. I could see she had the most beautiful and toned body when she was bent over the desk. Her bottom looked as though it were made out of porcelain; pale, delicate and verging on translucent in appearance. However, when the cane landed on it it was obviously made of sterner stuff. The flesh was so firm that the cane was almost bouncing off her as though her bottom was made of rubber. She quickly displayed the most vivid cane marks, though, with red stripes marching up and down her bottom as the caning progressed.

And then it was time for my beautiful, loving and kind sister. There was no eye contact as she came into the room and I could see that, as was usual with her, she was making every effort to create the best possible outcome from the situation. It was horrible to see her having to remove her panties which were soon nestling in my hand, still warm from her body heat. The sight of her bare bottom waiting for the cane filled me with dread. I should have closed my eyes because the sight of that caning will be with me for the rest of my life. She took it well with just a low whimper audible after each cane stroke. Soon I was handing her back her underwear and we exchanged knowing glances as she departed.

Suddenly it was then just Sister Joan and myself in the room. She went to sit behind her desk and I took a seat on the chair by the window that had taken the blazers. We sat in silence for several minutes while we both processed what had just happened. I was desperately hoping that Sister Joan would find a way of not having to cane me. Those hopes were soon dashed.

“You do realise that I’m going to have to cane you now, Angela,” she said eventually.

“I know,” I replied. “Can we get it over with quickly, please?”

“Of course, Angela. Get yourself ready.”

I knew the procedure and my blazer was soon hung on the back of the chair. Confirmation of my nerves were my shaking hands as I searched for the waistband of my panties before lowering them to the floor. I folded them and placed them on the edge of the desk. I then bent over the desk and reached out to grip the far edge, waiting for Sister Joan to do the rest. As I felt my skirt back being lifted and my bottom exposed I hoped that somehow Sister Joan would go easy on me under the circumstances.

After the first stroke this clearly wasn’t part of her plans. Many people go through life without ever experiencing a caning but there is nothing that can prepare you for the shock on receiving that first cane stroke. The pain exploded in my bottom and I couldn’t help letting out a little cry of shock and anguish. The cane strokes kept on coming and I had to endure the full eight. By the end I was gulping in huge lung fulls of air in an effort to control my emotions. Afterwards I lay on the desk for a few minutes while I recovered. Sister Joan gave my bottom a gentle rub presumably in an effort to sooth my pain. When I did eventually get up she pulled me towards her and gave me a little squeeze.

“Well done, Angela,” she whispered in my ear. “You took that really well.”

She released me and I put on my blazer before carefully replacing my underwear. I was soon in the passage walking back to catch the end of my biology lesson.


We have often since talked about the events of that day. We were arguably the two best behaved girls in that school, yet on the same day we had to endure the most severe canings. To this day we are astounded that this could have happened to us. The mystery of how the drugs ended up in the toilet was never solved. We both had cane marks and bruising to our bottoms that took a couple of weeks to totally disappear but other than that there were no repercussions. We took our A levels a few weeks later and both got into our first choice universities.

We have sometimes wondered about the possible motivations behind Sister Joan’s punishments. Did she derive any pleasure from slippering the younger girls’ bottoms and was it really necessary to bare our bottoms before we were caned?  The touching of skin and cuddles could be viewed as erotic actions, maybe even of a sexual nature. This is another question that we cannot answer.

Finally, there was a long term upside for both of us. We felt nothing but pain and humiliation on the day of our canings but several years later we realised that our view of the events of that day were changing. We share the same genetic makeup so it is maybe not surprising that we now both feel the same way about corporal punishment. We love it! We both have loving husbands and young children but we regularly find opportunities and excuses for our husbands to discipline us. It’s usually with a cane and it always involves us bending over with our knickers down and bottoms bared!

The End

© Julie Baker 2017

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