Trouble brews when a boy and a girl are caught drinking, but then strange consequences follow.

By Wendy A

It was one of those warm autumn days, the sun was low in a blue sky, and not the usual chill wind that so often blows at that time of year. Joe and I were enjoying a beer to wash down a large plate of fish and chips.

“Beats school lunch at St Gregory’s,” said Joe. “Not the usual stew with no meat and a pile of smelly cabbage.”

I reflected for a moment and replied: “Let’s just hope we don’t get caught or something else could get beaten, remember what happened at the end of last term, ten of the sixth form leavers were caught drinking at lunchtime and got whacked.”

“You’re right but doesn’t it make the fish and chips taste even better. We’ll just have to be careful and slip out the back door when we leave and go through the car park to the lane at the back.”

I again reflected and agreed that it would be better to leave that way rather than by the front door into the High Street. Dismissing negative thoughts the conversation turned to hockey and football; I was in the first team and Joe was captain of the boys’ football team. Both teams had a practise session after school that afternoon.

“Lunch should be finished at School by now so we had better get a shift on,” said Joe. We finished our beers and left by the rear door that led to the toilets and the rear yard. We had only gone a few steps from the back door when a voice boomed out: “What are you two doing here?”

My heart dropped, we had been caught red handed, it was the voice of Mr Grieves the senior maths teacher who had been parking his car and had just shut the door. “I don’t think I need an answer to my question, it is plainly obvious and I can smell the beer from here. Get off back to school and I will see you later.”

We made our way out of the yard. “Oh shit!” I said. “We’re in for it now, there is no way he will not report us to Dr Hamilton.”

Joe nodded his head and we headed back to school using a side gate used for deliveries. We were quick to mingle with the crowd of pupils in the quad.

I spoke first. “Can we keep this between the two of us for now? I don’t think I could stand the questions of our classmates and the sniggers of a few who will know only too well what punishment awaits us. May and Carol would be delighted to know that I am going to get a sore bottom given that they were not chosen for the hockey team.”

Joe agreed, so we just chatted to friends trying to hide the sinking feeling in our stomachs.

The bell rang for the start of classes; we were both in double French that afternoon and headed for the French wing. My mind was elsewhere and when I was asked a question I had not even heard posed, I was flustered and reprimanded for not paying attention.

About fifteen minutes into the lesson there was a knock at the door. It was Daisy, the new assistant secretary. She had a note in her hand which she gave to Mme Dupont. Mme Dupont read it and then announced that Joe and I were to go with Daisy. There was no need for anyone to explain where we were going; the summons to go with the school secretary was almost certainly going to be followed by a whacking.

Daisy led the way.

“Why have you come for us, where’s Mrs White?” I asked.

“She did not feel well after lunch and the Headmaster told her to go home,” Daisy replied.

On reaching the Headmaster’s study, Daisy knocked and opened the door. She ushered us inside and the two of us stood in front of his imposing oak desk while Daisy returned the note to Dr Hamilton. “Thank you Daisy, that’s all for now.” She turned and went to the door to the Secretary’s office.

Dr Hamilton turned to us. “You know the rules; absence from the School during School hours is only permitted with written permission from a senior member of staff. Do you have such permission?”

We both shook our heads. “Even for Upper Sixth formers, this rule applies. Although you are both of an age when drinking alcohol is permitted by law, it is not permitted during School hours. You are both well aware of the consequences of your action, I had to deal with a similar offence at the end of last term, a fact that I am sure you know only too well. Do you have anything to say?”

Joe spoke first: “No Sir, I am sorry for being so silly.”

“Me too Sir,” I added.

“There is only one punishment that I can impose; you will both receive a full six strokes. Do you wish to add anything in you defence?” We both shook our heads and looked down at his desk.

Dr Hamilton pressed a buzzer under his desk and Daisy promptly entered from her office. “You will escort these two to the changing rooms and wait till they have changed. You both know the drill, sports kit and no additional protection. Once you are changed Daisy will escort you back here. Off you go.”

Daisy opened the door and the two of us exited. The changing rooms were at the far end of the school so the walk of shame took more than a few minutes.

I spoke first. “Are you going to act as the witness, Daisy?”

She looked rather embarrassed and her eyes did not meet mine. “Yes, he has asked me to stand in for Mrs White twice before; once when she was on some sort of course and another time when she was at a funeral.”

Joe spoke next. “One would have thought that the Headmaster would ask someone a little older to stand in for Mrs White?”

“I did ask the Headmaster about that when he first asked me to act as a witness. He explained that he would not wish for a teacher to witness a whacking as it could negatively affect the relationship between the pupil and the teacher.”

We had reached the changing rooms, girls to the left and boys to the right. Each of us entered while Daisy stayed outside.

I mulled over the fact that Daisy would witness my whacking. I had known Daisy for several years. After leaving the local Comprehensive at sixteen with no exam passes she had got a job at a local coffee shop, the one where I often met my school friends at weekends. Even before leaving school she had worked at the coffee shop at weekends.

She was a pretty girl and had become close to several boys. As a result she often went to the same parties as me and had become one of our crowd. I knew that she had been attending night school and had obtained a secretarial diploma. With that, she had been engaged by St Gregory’s. It was going to be strange to be whacked in her presence.

We both emerged in school sports shirts, socks and trainers. I had on my hockey skirt and matching navy blue knickers, Joe was in football shorts.

It was several years since I had been whacked by the Headmaster and was anxious to know what was going to happen. “So what is the routine Daisy?”

“When we reach his study you two will wait outside while I announce our arrival. You will then be called in one at a time. He seems to deal with girls first. When you come into his study there will be a chair set up in the middle, you have to stand by the chair. He will ask you to lift your skirt and bend over with your hands flat on the seat.”

That sinking feeling was getting worse. “Will I get the cane?” came out of my mouth more as a squeak than my usual voice.

“I don’t think so Sally. So far he has always used a belt on girls. He calls it a tawse; it has two tails and a sort of handle. The cane seems to be reserved for boys.”

At that, we reached the Headmaster’s study, Daisy went in while Joe and I stood in the corridor, neither wishing to speak.

We did not have to wait long. Daisy popped her head out of the door and beckoned me in. I went to the chair in the middle of the room and stood there waiting.

The Headmaster spoke. “Right, Sally, you will receive six stokes of the tawse on your bottom. When I tell you, you will lift your skirt to your waist, bend forward and place your hands flat on the seat. I trust that you only have on one pair of knickers?” I nodded as my answer. “Bend over Sally.”

I did as instructed, revealing my sports knickers, and leaned forward. My legs were wobbly and I felt ever so vulnerable. Dr Hamilton opened a cupboard to his left, took out the belt thing and came round to my left side. I looked round and saw Daisy standing to my right and slightly behind me. She smiled.

“Ready, Sally?”

I squeaked again: “Yes, Sir.”

Almost immediately there was a loud “crack” and then a searing pain shot from my bottom to my brain. I am not sure whether I made a noise but it was sure as hell difficult to remain bending. I so much wanted to stand up and rub my bottom.

Another “craaack”. God the pain.

Yet another “craaack”. My bottom was on fire and my eyes were watering.

The next three strokes seemed to merge together. I was so concentrating on staying bent over, in so much pain, and trying without success to stop the tears that were by now flowing down my cheeks.

I awoke as if from a bad dream when Dr Hamilton said: “That’s all, Sally. Adjust your skirt and compose yourself.” At this Daisy appeared at my side with some tissues which I took and wiped the tears away.

Daisy spoke in a whisper: “Are you ready Sally? It’s Joe’s turn now.” She took my arm and I let her guide me to the door to the corridor.

As I came out of the study, Joe turned his head. “Oh my god Sally, why did I suggest lunch at the pub?” Daisy beckoned to Joe and he went into the Head’s study.

It was not long before I heard the first stroke. The sound seemed much sharper and I could only imagine that he was being caned. Five more strokes followed.

Joe looked in a little distress when he exited and gave his bottom a rub.

Daisy escorted us back towards the changing room, the corridors were busy as it was the break between afternoon lessons. All eyes were fixed on the two of us and our escort. I was very conscious of my bottom; it felt huge and I knew I was not walking normally.

We reached the changing rooms and Daisy said: “You don’t have to go back to class this afternoon. You can both go to the library if you want.”

We looked at each other and nodded agreement. Sitting in class for another hour or so would be most uncomfortable and everyone would be looking at our bottoms and wondering what state they were in.

Daisy spoke again. “OK the library it is. After school I was wondering whether you would like to unwind a little. We could go to my flat for a drink? You know where I live and it’s less than ten minutes walk from the main gates.”

“I have hockey practise after school.”

Joe also said that he had football practise.

“Well it’s up to you but I am not sure how you will feel having a shower after sport. You could nip over to my flat and have a shower and change in private.”

Her offer sounded enticing. I had no wish to have my bare bottom on display to the whole team and also to whoever else was there, there would probably be some juniors in the changing room.

I looked at Joe who nodded.

“OK Daisy, we’ll be at your flat shortly after five o’clock.”

We went to the library and spent an hour or so going over our painful experience. Joe had been caned and definitely had the impression that the Head had really put all his weight into each stroke. He enquired about how I felt and again said he was sorry to have suggested going to the pub. I countered him by saying that I had readily agreed and fully knew the consequences of being caught.

It was nearly time for sport practise and we decided to make our way to the changing rooms before the rest would reach it. I got changed and was ready when the rest of the team arrived. My friends flocked round me and the questions flowed. How many? What with? What were you wearing? Did you have to lift your skirt? Who was the witness? What did Joe get?

Thank god for the hockey coach who shouted that we had two minutes to be on the field. Questions stopped and the others rushed to get their kit on. I put my clothes into my sports bag so that I could make a quick exit after we had finished.

The coach kept us longer than I had thought so when I got back to the changing room, Joe was already in the corridor in his football kit with his bag over his shoulder.

“Give me a minute” I said.

We made our way to Daisy’s flat. Nobody questioned us about still wearing our kit in the street.

Daisy welcomed us and we had drinks in our hands in double quick time, wine for me and a beer for Joe. After running round a pitch we were both thirsty and quickly emptied our glasses, Daisy refilled them. I was soon feeling a little light headed.

Till then we had spoken of nothing of any consequence.

Daisy looked serious all of a sudden. “I don’t know how I am going to broach what is in my mind. I feel guilty and confused. I am in some ways sorry that I had to witness your whackings and would have preferred it to have been anyone but you two.”

“Let me start at the beginning. I have not been spanked for many years. My Mom spanked me occasionally when I was young but not since I was eight or nine. We were not whacked at our school. We got detentions, extra work, jobs like tidying up the school grounds or at worst suspension.”

“I told you that I had witnessed two other whackings before today. In one case it was two boys and the other was two girls and a boy. They were all in lower forms and I did not really know them.”

“I now come to the difficult part. I had never really thought about school corporal punishment. There was no reason why I should, even if I knew that some schools did still practise it. To be honest I found the whole thing fascinating. The ritual, the looks on the pupils’ faces, the trembling, the tears. It has something to do with the power exercised by the Head, his right to cause pain, and the total submission of the pupil. They bend and stick their bottoms out to get whacked. Only in one case did I have to hold a girl down as she kept standing up.”

“I feel ashamed but need to admit my guilt. You are my closest friends and I hope that you will forgive me. When I witnessed the previous whackings, I had strange feelings, sexual type feelings. I have lain in bed at night dreaming of these over and over again. I have imagined the pain, the marks left by the tawse and particularly the cane.”

“When I heard that it would be the two of you that were to be whacked today my mind was in a whirl. The sexual feelings doubled from previous times, no, they quadrupled. My stomach was heaving with excitement. I know I will relive the events of this afternoon for ever. I was so worked after up that I had to go to the toilet to relieve my feelings. I know it is bad, I know it is disgusting.”

“I really don’t know what to do. I had an idea that you might help me either to discourage me from these feelings or alternatively there may be no cure. I watched you earlier get your bottoms whacked. I want you to whack me. I want you to give me what you endured.”

At this she stopped, there was silence. I broke it first.

“What you have said is not that strange. There is something about spankings that does produce strange feelings. There is a fascination at seeing well marked bottoms. The showers are filled with shouts and squeals when a bruised bottom is on display. The run up to a whacking can not be expressed as fun and the beating itself does hurt like hell. It is after, knowing you have climbed a mountain and now have the easy descent, the feeling that you have achieved, a sort of mental glow. I am not sure how guys feel?”

We both turned to Joe.

“I am not sure where to start and feel that I may upset you. What I am about to say is not my own personal view but rather that of guys in general. The whacking of guys does not produce the same feelings that you have explained. What guys talk about is the whacking of girls, their eyes are fixed on a girl’s bottom after she has been beaten, they try to imagine how it looked bent over, they would love to look at a girl’s bare bottom and would love to touch it and see any bruises.”

Daisy again broached the subject of us beating her as we had been.

“But how can we do that? We don’t have a tawse or a cane?” I said.

She then explained that she had borrowed a spare tawse and cane from the stockroom where all the stationery is kept.

“I want it just like the two of you. Six with the tawse and six with the cane. I still have my school gym knickers so I can wear those.”

I enquired whether twelve strokes would not be too much in terms of pain and also bruising. After some further discussion she agreed that she would get four of each, eight in total.

Joe concluded the discussion. “Well, if that’s what you want then so be it.” He looked at me and I nodded consent. “I have never, ever spanked a girl but have dreamt of girls being punished at school. One thing, don’t be surprised if there is a sexual reaction. I suggest that Sally gives you the tawse and me the cane, OK Sally?”

I agreed.

“Right Daisy we have decided to give you corporal punishment because of your repeated behaviour when witnessing whackings,” Joe said in a deep severe way. “Now go and get prepared and remember that only one item of clothing over your bottom is allowed.”

Daisy got up and went into her bedroom. We selected a dining type chair and placed it in the middle of the room. We also moved some items to allow a free swing of the tawse and cane.

There was a knock on the door. We both sat on her sofa.

“Come in,” Joe shouted.

Daisy entered with a rather sheepish grin on her face. She was wearing a white T-shirt with, it appeared, no bra underneath and a pair of green gym knickers with two white stripes down the sides. This was completed with short white socks and sneakers. She looked quite cute dressed like this and also rather vulnerable; quite a difference to her usual office wear of blouse and mid-length skirt. She had the cane and tawse in her hand and placed them on a table.

I took over with the instructions: “Right Daisy, when you are told to bend over stand about one foot from that chair, bend and place your hands flat on the seat. “Are you ready Daisy?”

She nodded.

“Then bend over.”

She bent slowly. She must have put on some weight since she had left school. The knickers were tight and stretched thin. I picked up the tawse and swung it a couple of times in a movement not unlike swinging a squash racquet. I drew it back and let go with what I thought was moderate force. It landed right in the middle of her bottom. She made no sound and stood her ground. I decided to increase the strength of the second one. This did produce a reaction, her legs bent slightly as if to ease the pain. The third and fourth were even harder and she bent her legs after each, the fourth even produced a grunt.

“Right Daisy, you may stand and rub your bottom. You will get the cane after five minutes.”

She raised herself slowly and half turned to face me. I could see her eyes watering and she vigorously rubbed her bottom.

At this stage Joe wanted some practise with the cane. He took a cushion from a chair and set it against the chair in the middle of the room. He whacked the cushion a couple of times and then let go with a hard one. He turned to Daisy.

“Is that about how hard the Head canes?”

She replied: “yes,” in a squeaky voice.

Joe took over. “Right, Daisy, the next part of your punishment is about to start. Bend over the chair and stick that bottom of yours out.”

She obliged and her knickers stretched thin, much as I am sure to Joe’s delight. “Ready Daisy?”

And she replied: “Yes Sir.”

The first stroke hit low on her bottom just above the thigh crease. It brought an immediate reaction, a sort of aaghhhhhh and a bending of her legs. She did however keep her hands on the chair. When she was settled back into position Joe gave her the second stroke. This one was higher up around the middle of her bottom and brought a similar reaction from her. The third looked as if it was between the first two, again her knees buckled but she held firm.

I noticed that Joe was determined to make the last one a good hard stroke. He drew the cane back further than before and let go with all his force. She screamed and stood up, grasped her bottom and bounced up and down. Tears were flowing from her eyes. It took her a good five minutes to calm down.

After further rubbing of the afflicted area she gingerly sat on the chair she had been bending over.

“Thank you, both of you,” she said in a croaky voice. “I now know how it feels to be whacked. Joe, can you get me some more wine?”

He went into the kitchenette and returned with a bottle and a beer for himself. He filled her glass and gave it to her, and topped up my glass.

After a further few minutes, by which time she had emptied her glass, we asked how she felt.

“I am coming down the mountain. I have one more favour to ask. Can I see the damage to your bottoms?”

I had imagined that this would inevitably be asked and had decided that I would agree as long as the others did the same. I had already seen many girls after a tawsing but never cane marks. “I’m OK with that as long as you both agree,” I said.

Joe was hesitant but the idea of seeing two spanked girls’ bottoms was too much for him and he agreed.

Daisy enquired who would go first and the order in which we had been beaten was agreed; me first, then Joe, and finally Daisy.

The two of them sat on the sofa and I moved to the chair in the middle of the room. I reached under my sports skirt and pulled my knickers down, then I flipped my skirt up and held it above my waist.

Daisy said: “Bend over the chair Sally.”

I obeyed, keeping my legs tight together.

“You have quite a lot of bruising especially where the tips on the tawse’s thongs landed. They will last a few days.”

I stood and eased my knickers back up. It was then that I realised that my bottom was still tender as the waist band scraped against the skin.

Joe was next. He moved to the chair and dropped his shorts. He was wearing a jock strap underneath.

“That’s two layers of clothing, naughty boy.”

He blushed and bent over. The lines left by the cane were blue black with the deepest bruising where the tip of the cane had cut into his flesh. He pulled his shorts back up.

Next Daisy stood, went over to the chair, slipped her fingers in her gym knickers and eased them down gently making sure she kept them away from her bottom, not an easy task as they were far too tight for her. She winced when they touched her bottom. Her bottom was a mess and this became clearer as she bent over. The tawse had produced red blotches and the cane had left four clear lines across the whole width of her bottom. The lines were red and seemed to be double, giving the impression of eight whacks.

I couldn’t resist the temptation. “Daisy, can I touch your bottom?”

She replied that I could do better than that and could rub some cream into the worst areas. She stood and went into her bedroom without raising her knickers and returned with a pot of cream. “This should help a bit,” she said.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Joe’s eyes were popping out of his head as he drank to the full the image of a half naked young girl.

She bent again and I gently rubbed the cream all over her bottom with a double dose for the most marked areas. I could feel the raised lines where the cane had struck. She was clearly aroused by my rubbing and even touched herself briefly. When I had finished she carefully pulled up her knickers and sat in an arm chair.

Daisy looked at the two of us and said: “I hope that this can remain a secret between the three of us. I can assure you that I would never tell anybody about your whackings this afternoon.”

“I am sure that I can speak for the both of us. Today will remain forever Daisy’s secret.”

The End