A story from the ‘old’ site which aims to explore a girl’s caning from both sides. It was fun writing it but I’m not so sure how well it works from the reader’s perspective.

By Kenny Walters

Monday 4.05 pm – Amy Westbridge

It’s amazing how quickly four hundred girls can exit a school building. Just five minutes after the last bell of the day sounded, I’m wandering along the corridor on my own with just the occasional sound of female chatter in the distance.

Mr Stewart’s office is at the top of these steps and round to the right. As I get near the top I look round over my shoulder and see that his office door is closed. Mr Stewart is my Housemaster and sixth form mentor, responsible for helping me with any problems I may have during the school year. I’ve got a really good one for him this time.

Monday 4.06 pm – Derek Stewart

That’s it for today. It’s my wedding anniversary, although we split up over two years ago, and I’m going out to dinner with my ex-wife. I’m not sure where. Somewhere cheap and Chinese. I like Chinese and Susan, my ex, has taken enough of my money already.

Damn! I hear footsteps and they’re getting nearer. Sounds like the shoes have a bit of a heel to them. That’ll be female. Sixth form, by the slow steady pace. Someone is tapping on the door.

“Come in!” Not much happens so I try again with more feeling. “Yes, come in!” The door is being peeled open so slowly. Will I get to celebrate (celebrate?) my wedding anniversary during at least the current month? “Oh, Amy.”

That’s a surprise. Amy’s a clever girl who doesn’t need a lot of tutoring. If she’s ever got any questions, she usually manages to ask them during the day.

“Take a seat, Amy.” I gesture towards the chair by the side of my desk. “Will this take long, only…?”

Monday 4.07 pm – Amy Westbridge

“I’m really sorry to trouble you, Mr Stewart.” Already I get the feeling he’d sooner be somewhere else. That’s unfortunate because I really need to speak to someone, preferably him, very urgently. I wait for him to reassure me that he’s got plenty of time for me, only he doesn’t. so I continue anyway. “I’ve got a problem and I really need your help.”

Mr Stewart sighs, but says: “That’s fine, Amy.” He leans back in his chair and turns a little towards me. “How can I help?”

I still feel nervous, but I make a start. “I went out with a few friends last night and, well, we had a few drinks. You know the sort of thing.” I pause, looking for some encouragement to continue.

“Yes.” That’s all he says, but it will do for me.

“Well, we got chatting and one of the girls had some cannabis in her bag which was fine but I’ve never tried it and didn’t particularly want to.” I stop again for at least a sign he’s interested. I don’t see it. “Well, then some police officers came into the club and started looking around. We were all over eighteen so there wasn’t a problem with us drinking but the girl who had the cannabis had already been in trouble for that sort of thing so she quickly gave it to me to look after, just in case the police decided to search her.”

Mr Stewart suddenly looks concerned. I think he can see where this is heading. He still doesn’t say anything, at least nothing helpful. I carry on.

“Unfortunately, one of the policemen noticed her handing me the packet. It was just a little plastic bag with a small amount of resin in it, but he still spotted it. He came straight over and told me to hand it over. I tried to deny it but he knew so in the end I had to give it to him. Obviously we were both arrested and we spent the rest of the evening at the police station. As you can imagine, I’m in big trouble.”

Monday 4.12 pm – Derek Stewart

It seems I appeared interested enough for Amy to tell me her story, and what a story it was. Through a little bit of stupidity she’d got herself into quite a mess.

“I see.” I say, when it seems Amy has completed her story and is waiting for me to respond. It was a daft thing to say really, but what was I supposed to do? “Yes, I can see you’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle there. Obviously, if I can be of any help, give you a reference or something, then just let me know.”

I take a quick look at my watch. The time is getting on and I need to be out of here. Unfortunately Amy is in no rush to leave.

Monday 4.14 pm – Amy Westbridge

I’m pleased. I’ve at least got my story out and Mr Stewart hasn’t hit the roof or thrown me out. He’s even offered to help, although I’m looking for something much more than a reference.

“I was wondering… that is… as my Housemaster… I was wondering…”

This is difficult. If telling Mr Stewart my story was hard, this is even more so. He looks at me, waiting for me to say whatever it is that’s on my mind. If only he’d say something, anything, that shows me he cares!

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But this is really difficult for me.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” At last he responds. “Please take your time and tell me what’s on your mind.”

That’s a bit better. Still not entirely what I need, but better.

“You see, as my Housemaster, you’re responsible for all matters concerning my life at this school, including discipline.”

I pause to give him the chance to seize the initiative, but he doesn’t. He sits there looking blankly at me, as though he hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about.

“I sort of feel we get on quite well together.” I know I’m putting this very awkwardly, but then I’m feeling very awkward about having to do this. Since it’s my whole future that’s at stake, though, I need to press on even if I’m still not getting any help from Mr Stewart.

“I really wouldn’t be asking you this, Mr Stewart, if I didn’t feel we have a good relationship together.” My mouth goes very dry and I have to stop to get my emotions together.

“Asking me what, Amy?”

I see Mr Stewart glance secretively at his watch as he speaks. Doesn’t he realise just how important this is to me? Am I really boring him that much?

“Well, I’ve been asking around and, like, there seems to have been the odd occasion in the past where girls have got into trouble, you know, with the law and that, and teachers have been able to deal with matters themselves?”

There! I’ve finally said it!

Monday 4.22 pm – Derek Stewart

I knew I should have taught in an all boys school. Girls! I’ll never understand them. I could understand when Amy came to tell me all about her little tale of woe. After all, that’s what I’m here for. A sort of mentor and general safe ear for all the girls’ little problems. School problems, that is. I’ve offered to give her a reference. What more does she want, for Heavens sakes!

“I’m not sure I’m quite with you, Amy.”

Amy looks at me with those great big green eyes, like she’s expecting me to perform miracles and undo all the ills that befell her last night. I mean, just one word from me and plod will drop all charges and give her a medal, won’t they?

I must say, she looks damned attractive with her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. And she’s got a lovely figure too. What am I thinking? She’s a pupil, for Heavens sakes! Or student? Yes, that’s the damned silly word we ought to use for them now.

Then the penny drops.

“Ah, I see! Yes! Of course. Silly me. Yes, you’re worried about how being charged with possession of cannabis will affect your schooling here. Well, I think I can reassure you there. The school does accept that girls will get into trouble now and again, and you have an excellent academic record here, so I think I can safely say that there won’t be more than the odd word of admonishment from the headmistress. Hope that helps.”

I look at my watch for the umpteenth time. Perhaps that’ll be the hint she needs.

Monday 4.26 pm – Amy Westbridge

Oh no! He’s got it all wrong! I sigh with frustration. Why are men so bloody stupid? He can’t be much older than thirty-five and dementia’s already set in!

“No, you misunderstand.” I look down at my feet and try to make my voice falter.

“Sorry, I don’t… “

Mr Stewart looks helplessly back at me as he struggles to work out just what I do want. That might be useful!

“Of course, you’ve only been here a couple of two years. Sorry, I should have remembered that.” I try to exaggerate his newness to the school and its little ways. It seems to work because he’s really floundering now.

“No, no!” He replies. “Sometimes it seems like I’ve been here a lifetime and yet I’m still not fully au fait with everything that goes on. I’m sorry if that makes things more difficult for you.”

I smile to reassure him. “No, it’s just that in the past when girls have been in trouble of this sort they’ve been dealt with under the school’s disciplinary code. I believe the school prefers it because it avoids any bad publicity and the police prefer it because it saves them a lot of time and effort.”

Oh no! He looks baffled again. I really am going to have to spell it out. I glare at him so he knows he should be fully aware about what I mean. I spell it out, perhaps a little too sarcastically for my own good.

“A school punishment instead of having to attend court? No police? No wasting court’s time? You deal with me instead? As my Housemaster and therefore responsible for my school discipline? Uh?”

Monday 4.31 pm – Derek Stewart

What is the damned girl talking about? It’s gone half past four and I’m still here! I need to get home, get showered, get changed and get to my ex-wife’s house.

Hold on! I do remember something someone said about taking over a minor police matter so the girl didn’t have to attend court or any of that malarkey. Wasn’t it old Mrs Thingumejig? What was her name now? Always seemed a right old battleaxe.

So what does this damn girl want me to do?

“I’m sorry, Amy, but I think I need to be very clear about what it is you are seeking. Do you want me to contact the police on your behalf and see whether you could be dealt with within the school?”

“I was wondering whether that might be possible, yes.”

“I see.” I said, watching my dinner date tonight swiftly disappearing down the pan. At least Amy seemed to have a contented look on her face.

“So, if that did turn out to be possible, you would then be looking at me to impose some kind of sanction rather than the court. Is that it?”

“That would be the idea, yes.”

“Well, I’ll certainly make some enquiries. Perhaps I can get back to you tomorrow?”

Monday 4.36 pm – Amy Westbridge

It took a while but I think I’ve finally got through to the idiot. That’s not really fair, is it? After all, I’m asking him for a big favour. It’s just so important to me though. As I leave for home, I hope he’ll come up with the goods.

I decide to walk rather than take the bus to give me time to think. Assuming Mr Stewart is successful and I get to be dealt with by the school, I know there will have to be a punishment. But what punishment?

I heard about one girl who got a month’s suspension, but that would mean having to tell my parents what happened and I’d prefer to avoid that. My original plan was to ask to be caned. I’ve never heard of any girl being caned although it’s always been assumed the headmistress had the means and the authority if it were ever needed. I’m not sure I’d want her to do it though.

Tuesday 1.45 pm – Derek Stewart

I find Amy just as she’s leaving the dining hall after lunch.

“Amy! Could I have a word?”

We move to a quiet part of the corridor where we can talk without being overheard.

“Well, I’ve had a word with the police like we agreed and they’re all for us sorting it out within the school. As you said, it makes life a lot easier for them. I’ve also checked with the headmistress and she’s in favour too, although I got the feeling the less she knows about it the happier she will be.”

“Oh, that’s great! Thank you so much, Mr Stewart.”

“We will need to have a chat later, Amy. My office after school?”

Having agreed the appointment, we go our separate ways. I’m not sure how much I’m relishing seeing Amy later. I’d usually look forward to it because she’s a bright girl, friendly and attractive too. Today, though, I’m a bit hesitant. Clearly I’m going to have to impose some sort of sanction which probably won’t please her. What sanction? I have no idea, just a short list of helpful possibilities given to me by the headmistress.

Tuesday 4.04 pm – Amy Westbridge

I’m climbing these steps again, still with butterflies in my stomach. I should be at least a little happier because now I know that I shall be punished by the school rather than the court, so my future career is safe. As I look up and over my shoulder, I see Mr Stewart’s door is open. Is that a good sign?

“Do come in, Amy.” Mr Stewart calls out just as I peer round the open door to check that he’s alone. I smile rather sheepishly as I approach his desk and sit down in the chair next to it when he beckons me. He smiles weakly back and looks as nervous as I am. We sit there smiling feebly at each other as I wait for him to speak and he waits to find the right words.

“As I said earlier, Amy, I have been able to convince the police to allow the school to deal with the, um, the matter that you brought to my attention.”

“That’s marvellous. Thank you.” I say rather gushingly.

Mr Stewart coughs nervously before we spend another awkward few moments, this time avoiding each other’s eyes.

“And I believe you said the headmistress is also in agreement?” I ask, more to encourage him.

“Yes, that’s right. Quite correct.”

We revert to embarrassed silence, so I try again.

“Look, Mr Stewart, I know I have to be punished.”

He looks terrified.

“Yes. Yes Amy. As you rightly say, there will have to be some kind of, er, um, a penalty. So to speak.”

I wait to hear what ‘penalty’ he has in mind. I keep waiting.

Tuesday 4.12 pm – Derek Stewart

Oh dear! This is so difficult. Amy keeps looking at me with those bright green eyes, expecting me to be authoritative and decisive when I am not and never have been anything of the sort.

“Look, Amy, as I’m sure you realise, I’m not very experienced in these matters. The headmistress has given me a few options. I think the best thing is for me to go through them with you.”


Amy appears interested, just like I’m about to explain some new and fascinating lesson when, actually, I’m about to penalise her.

I cough. “Firstly, you could be suspended for one month. We could organise some work for you to do at home which would at least keep some of your schoolwork up to date.

“Secondly, a series of perhaps eight one-hour detentions spent in the usual detention class on Thursday evenings. Embarrassing being kept in with the younger girls, but at least your work wouldn’t suffer.

“Thirdly, picking up litter during the lunchtimes. The headmistress suggests three, possibly four, weeks of that.

“The fourth option… er, well we needn’t go into that one.”

“What do you think? I was wondering whether we could arrange for your detentions to be served in private, perhaps here in my office. That might at least save you a little embarrassment.”

Amy seems puzzled. “What was the fourth option, exactly?”

“Damn! Why did I mention that. “Well, actually, it’s corporal punishment, so we don’t need to go into that, do we?” I laugh as though the idea is quite preposterous, but actually it’s more of a nervous laugh. I hope Amy doesn’t notice.

“What sort of corporal punishment?” She asks, those big green eyes looking so innocently at me.

“Um, I believe the headmistress wasn’t terribly specific. I think she mentioned half a dozen strokes of the cane or perhaps a few more with the slipper, that sort of thing. Obviously it’s not worth thinking about with a girl of your age.”

I smile nervously again. I’m looking down at her thighs, nice female thighs clothed in rather tight black leggings. When I look up suddenly, I see she’s seen me looking at her thighs. I blush, and she smiles knowingly.

“If I were to choose the corporal punishment, Mr Stewart, who would administer it?”

This is going from bad to worse. I’m feeling extremely hot now, like I could pass out at any minute.

I cough several times. It doesn’t help. “I, um, that is, er, I would. Or, of course, you would be entitled to have the headmistress do it. But, normally, the headmistress delegates that sort of thing to the Housemaster, or Housemistress where there is a Housemistress, which we don’t have in this House of course.”

“Right.” Amy seems so deep in thought I can almost hear cogs whirring. I try to steer her back onto a different course.

“You know, the more I think about it, the more I think we can definitely organise it for you to serve your detentions in private. We can do it here in this office. Perhaps every Wednesday? Yes, how about every Wednesday? It will give me the chance to help you with your coursework too.”

Amy chuckles. “It wouldn’t be much of a punishment, would it? I mean that’s the sort of thing you might do anyway, if I needed any help with my coursework, that is.”

“Oh, I don’t think that matters, Amy. Not really.”

Tuesday 4.20 pm – Amy Westbridge

Poor Mr Stewart! He’s so sweet really. I’m not sure I want to give up my free time to spend it in detention with him though, even though he’s right about it being embarrassing to spend the time in with the younger girls in the regular detention class. Suspension is a definite no-no. As for litter picking! Yuk!!

“Actually, Mr Stewart, I think I’d prefer to be caned.”

I speak the words like I was choosing a special chocolate from a box, but then having never been caned before, what do I know? I do have the feeling though that a caning from Mr Stewart won’t hurt half as much as if the headmistress did it.

Oh dear! I think I’ve embarrassed him again. I’ve certainly shocked him.

“Caned?” He says, like I’ve asked to be executed.

I look back sweetly and innocently. “Yes, get it over with quickly.”

He takes a while for my reasoning to sink in. “I see.” He speaks eventually. “But you do realise that I would probably have to do it?”

“Yes, Mr Stewart. Actually, I think I’d prefer it to be done by a man, meaning no disrespect to our headmistress, of course.” Nasty, cold old bitch that she is!

“Of course.” He agrees, almost as though the old dragon is standing in the doorway. I look round quickly, but she isn’t there. “I see.” He means he doesn’t see, but is at least thinking of going along with it.

“I must tell you, Amy, that I’ve never actually caned anyone before.”

“Don’t worry.” I reply. “I’ve never been caned before either.”

I don’t think my answer eased his anxieties one jot, but at least he agreed with my request and we’ve agreed the dreaded hour will be four-fifteen tomorrow evening so that he has time to get everything ready.

Wednesday 4.00 pm – Derek Stewart

The bell brings another school day to a close and I’m in my office listening to the thunder of herds of various species of stampeding animals that in reality comprise a few hundred schoolgirls making their way home. All too soon I am left sitting in tense silence. I cannot go home like the others because Amy Westbridge is due here in fifteen minutes time.

Just twenty minutes ago, I went down to the school secretary’s office and collected the school punishment book and a slender cane that Mrs Davies, one of the three secretaries, assured me would be suitable for my purposes.

I was okay with the book, in reality nothing more than a red exercise book with a hand printed label, and I could keep the front cover pressed to my side to conceal from prying eyes just which book it was. The cane, a shorter item than I was expecting, thin and very supple with a crook handle, was a different matter.

“Thread it up the sleeve of your jacket, Mr Stewart.” Mrs Davies advised. “That’s what most of them do.”

She was right of course. Once I’d eased the cane up my sleeve I found I could just manage to cup my fingertips around the crook handle, thus almost hiding the implement from view.

Or so I thought. I’d gone about ten yards along the corridor back to my room when a couple of fourth formers spotted me, spotted it and giggled. I ignored them and marched onwards.

When I got back to my office, I put the punishment book in the top drawer and hide the cane behind my gown on the small row of clothes hooks behind my desk.

That clock is ticking at twice, no three times, its usual speed, I’m sure. It’s already eight minutes past four and Amy could arrive at any moment. Am I ready for her? No! And there’s footsteps on the stairs.

Wednesday 4.08 pm – Amy Westbridge

I know I’m a bit early but I’m sure Mr Stewart won’t mind. Anyway, I can always wait outside his door if he’s got someone in with him. I tread a little heavier on the stairs, just to warn him I’m on my way. At the top, I peer round the half open door. He’s alone.

“Come in!” He calls out as soon as I tap ever so gently on his door and I push the door open a little further and walk in, closing it behind me.

“I think I’m a little early, Mr Stewart. Is that okay?” I ask, looking at my watch.

“Don’t worry, Amy. That’s fine.”

Oh dear! He sounds as nervous as I am. He’s sitting at his desk and as I approach I look around but there’s no sign of the cane. Has he forgotten it? Are we going somewhere else to actually perform the deed?

“I suppose we might as well get straight to it, Amy.” He says as I hover near the side of his desk, wondering whether to sit down on the vacant chair by the side of it. I presume that means don’t sit down.

“Yes, I suppose.” I gush, a little breathlessly.

“You understand your presence here means that I now have to administer six strokes of the cane?”

Yes, that’s why I’m here.

“Yes, sir.” I whisper. I’m not sure why I called him ‘sir’. As a sixth former, I don’t have to.

He responds by opening a drawer and taking out a small red exercise book, and I just catch the handwritten title ‘Punishment Book’ before he opens it and turns the pages until he comes to the first vacant line. He finds a pen from the same drawer and starts writing my name. I look down, trying to make out some of the other names, but I’m standing a little too far away to make out the writing. For something to do while I’m waiting, I look around the room again but I still can’t see the cane.

He’s finished writing now and he’s putting the exercise book away in the drawer. His desk looks unusually tidy; then I see the usual piles of papers have simply been moved to the tops of two large filing cabinets. He stands up but seems to find it hard to look me directly in the eye.

He coughs nervously, then tucks his chair neatly under the desk.

“Perhaps you’d better remove your jacket.” He says. I’m wearing a thin blue cotton jacket which isn’t unduly warm even indoors, but somehow I feel I need to comply with his suggestion without really understanding why.

“I’ll hang it up for you.” I was quite capable of hanging my jacket on one of the empty hooks next to where Mr Stewart had hung his black gown but he almost snatched it out of my grasp. Curious!

Mr Stewart is now standing with his back towards the coat hooks and looking nervously at me. As I gaze questioningly back, he pushes his gown aside and takes down a crook handled cane from one of the hooks. So that’s where he’d hidden it!

Wednesday 4.15 pm – Derek Stewart

My head is spinning and I’m feeling faint!

We’ve completed all the paperwork and I now have to administer six strokes using this slender little cane that feels strangely light and delicate in my hand. Amy is looking at me and I can see all sorts of emotions in her bright green eyes; curiosity, uncertainty, doubt, a little fear, all mixed with even a hint of excitement. Are those really her feelings or am I seeing my own being reflected back to me?

I start to move forward and my footsteps seem to be echoing round the room. Amy doesn’t move her head, but she continues to look at me from the corner of her eye as I pass round behind her and stand at the front of my desk.

I cough. “Could you move forward a bit, please Amy?”

She spins round so she’s half facing the end of my desk and half facing me. That isn’t quite what I meant.

“Could you face the end of my desk, please Amy.”

She pivots on her heels. Now she is facing the end of my desk, but she’s still a couple of paces from it.

“Just step forward a little, please Amy. So you’re closer to the desk.”

Amy makes the adjustments in rather robotic, jerky movements almost as though we’re playing some kind of party game. Her blonde hair is once again tied back in a ponytail and her arms are hanging down tightly against the sides of her light grey trousers.

I move round to the side of her and Amy starts fiddling with her fingers as she holds her hands in front of her, just above waist height. I feel my fingers gripping the little cane tightly.

“Bend over the desk, please Amy.”

Wednesday 4.18 pm – Amy Westbridge

What? Did I hear right? What happened to ‘hold your hand out, please Amy’?

I hear a big sigh, as though Mr Stewart is getting impatient. I move my head pointedly to my left and glare at him. His eyes move nervously from mine to the floor and back again. I raise one eyebrow, a silent question that could mean anything from ‘sorry, did I hear you correctly?’ to ‘what the hell do you think you’re playing at, asking me to bend over?’ and anything in between.

There’s an ugly pause that seems to go on for ages.

“I’m afraid I do need you to bend over the desk, Amy. I am required to apply this caning to your bottom.”

I blink. Mr Stewart seems a little more able to look me in the eye now. Hold on, though. Let’s think about this. He said: ‘I need you to bend over the desk.’ Then he said he was ‘required’ to whack me across the bum. Sounds like they’re the regulations, and earlier he said he’d been chatting to the headmistress about this. He must know what he’s doing.

Oh well! It’s too late to back out now. This is certainly not what I was expecting!

With as much dignity as I can muster, I slowly bend down across the end of his desk.

Wednesday 4.20 pm – Derek Stewart

What am I doing? Should I really be doing this? I did have a little practice earlier though, before Amy got here, and hitting a tiny little target like the palm of her hand with this rather pliable whippy little cane would indeed be a pretty tricky task. I could easily miss her palm and catch her delicate fingers, or even the sensitive part of her wrist. At least this way it gives me a better target to aim at, even if it is rather a delicious target.

Without any firm instructions from the headmistress, and never having caned anyone before, what was I supposed to do? I did see a couple of boys being caned back in my own schooldays. Is it surprising I used my only experience of such matters? I’d better not ask her to take her trousers and pants down though!

“Amy. Could you put your knees together and thrust your bottom out a little more please?”

She’s bending over rather awkwardly and lop-sided so that I’d be bound to catch her on just the right buttock if I didn’t ask her to adjust her position. She’s making a bit of a song and dance about it, but at least I’ve now got her bottom sticking out nice and square, and her grey trousers are stretched so invitingly across her delectable bottom.

“That’s good.” I confirm. “Ready?”

Wednesday 4.23 pm – Amy Westbridge

This is highly embarrassing. I’ve been made to sprawl across this desk, squirm around with my bum in the air, and now I’m waiting for a male teacher to whack me like a naughty schoolgirl! It’s actually quite uncomfortable too. My elbows are resting on the top of the desk and with my weight pressing down on them the hard surface is making them quite sore.

What? Oh, he’s asking if I’m ready to have my bottom smacked. That’s nice of him! Not!

“Yes.” I sigh. “I’m ready.” I speak in a little girly ‘sing-song’ voice which I didn’t really intend. It probably sounded quite flippant to Mr Stewart.

“Yeeeoouucchh!!” That made my eyes water! My bum feels like it’s on fire. Perhaps I should have been a little more deferential in speaking to Mr Stewart!

“Ooooww!!” He’s not hanging about! Good grief! That’s only the second one and already I don’t feel I’ll be sitting down for a week.

“Yoooossshhhh!!” That was low down, almost onto my thighs. In fact, I think it did catch the top of my right thigh. It seems extra tender there.

“Aaaaaaargh!!” At least that was back on my bum. It still bloody hurts though.

“Yeeeeooww!” Right in the middle of my bum. At least it would have been if the tip hadn’t wrapped round my hip. That really hurts! Just one more to go. I bet he makes that a real stinger.

“Yeeeeeeeouch!!” He did! I am definitely not sitting down for the rest of this month. Can I get up now? He hasn’t said anything. Better stay down. I really, really do want to give my bum a good rub though.

Wednesday 4.28 pm – Derek Stewart

There! That wasn’t so bad was it? I think I’ve survived in one bit. I think Amy will be treating me with a bit more respect too. I bet her bottom now has six very nasty looking red lines running across it, and I reckon they should be almost parallel. Yes, not bad for a first attempt.

I suppose I should tell her to get up. She’s staying bent over the desk. Probably doesn’t dare move in case I give her extra. Can’t keep her there for ever though.

“Right. Thank you, Amy. You may get up now. Your punishment is completed.”

As she slowly eases herself off the desk her hands immediately start rubbing her bottom. And what a lovely bottom it is too. Pretty sore now, I imagine. She’s not looking in my direction at all. Too intent on massaging her backside.

Wednesday 4.30 pm – Amy Westbridge

Will I ever sit down again? I keep rubbing my bum but the pain doesn’t seem to be getting much easier. I suppose I ought to feel embarrassed doing this in front of Mr Stewart but I’ve got better things to worry about for the moment. It’s even hard to straighten up.

Yes! Finally, the pain is levelling out. I think I might live after all. I’m still not sure about sitting down though. All I want to do now is get out of here. It’s not that I think any the less of Mr Stewart for caning me. After all, it was my idea. I just need time on my own to massage my bottom in private, see what the damage looks like and generally get myself together.

Wednesday 4.32 pm – Derek Stewart

I’m worried about the way Amy keeps looking at me, like all she wants to do is get away from my presence. I only did what she asked me to do. I’d prefer to sit and chat for a while, compare notes on how the experience went for each of us, but I don’t think Amy agrees.

“You’re free to leave whenever you want, Amy.” I tell her.

“Thank you.” Amy replies and immediately heads for the door. “Thank you.” She repeats, looking over her shoulder just before leaving the room. I feel she is sincere in her gratitude, but she still departs.

“Oh well,” I say to myself, and turn my thoughts to taking the cane and punishment back to Mrs Davies.

The End