Ginny’s Lesson

Ginny’s mother is called in to discuss her daughter’s bad behaviour with her headmaster, which leads to a painful lesson for Ginny

By Kenny Walters

“Mrs Peterson to see you, headmaster.”

“Thank you. Mrs Jones. Send her in please.” Charles Weston released the button on the intercom and stood up, just as the door to his study was pushed open.

“Mrs Peterson. So good to see you.” The headmaster held out his hand and gently shook the gloved female hand. “Please take a seat.”

“Call me Andrea, please headmaster.” The tall slim dark haired woman sat down in the comfortable armchair in front of the large desk. “You said on the telephone you wanted a chat about Virginia.”

“Charles, please Andrea.” Mr Weston sat down himself as soon as Andrea Peterson was settled. “Yes, I’m sorry to have had to bother you but we have been having a few problems with Virginia’s behaviour recently. I thought it best to speak to you first before going any further.”

“Virginia’s behaviour? Problems? You’ve got me worried, Charles. What sort of problems?”

“Quite a variety, I’m afraid Andrea. Lateness, poor attitude, downright rudeness even. She was caught smoking twice in the past week. I’ve had several chats with her but that doesn’t seem to have made much difference, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, I know Virginia does smoke. I hate it, of course, but I really don’t know what to do about it. I can’t say she behaves any better at home if I’m honest. I suppose it’s not surprising her attitude at school is no better.”

“Quite, Andrea.” Mr Weston sighed pensively. “Look, I don’t want to stick my nose in where it’s not wanted, but is everything alright at home? For Virginia, I mean.”

“Since Edward, my husband, left us about four years ago I’ve made sure Ginny wants for nothing. Perhaps that’s the trouble, I’ve spoilt her to try and make up for the loss of having her father around. Not that they ever got on particularly well. Ginny always did have a bit of a rebellious streak in her.”

“I presume discipline is not terribly high on the agenda at home, then?”

“There is no discipline, Charles, if I’m frank. Of course, I’ve tried to remonstrate with Ginny but she just ignores me. I had hoped the school might provide some level of authority but I realise that can’t be any easier for you than it is for me.”

“In that Virginia is eighteen years old and in the upper sixth, we wouldn’t normally expect to have much problem in the area of discipline, Andrea. Is there really nothing you feel you can do to improve her behaviour?”

“To put it bluntly, Charles, my view is she needs a damn good spanking. And don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

“But you haven’t tried anything along those lines?”

“Spanking her?” Mrs Peterson let out a short laugh, then became serious again. “I’ve never disciplined her in that way, Charles. I’m not sure why. I certainly got my fair share of spankings when I was growing up.”

“Too late to start now?”

“I think so, Charles.” Mrs Peterson stroked her chin as she contemplated the question. “For me, certainly. But perhaps not for you.”

“I’m sorry Andrea?” Charles Weston sat bolt upright in his chair.

Mrs Peterson smiled knowingly. “Charles, St Mary’s is well known for its caring attitude within a disciplined environment. I was one of the many parents who voted to retain the ultimate sanction.”

“Ah, I see. You mean the cane?”

“Quite so, Charles.”

“It’s been a long time since we caned a sixth form girl, Andrea.”

“But sixth form girls aren’t exempt, are they Charles?”

“No. No, they aren’t.” The headmaster drew a deep breath. “Are you seriously suggesting I cane Virginia, Andrea?”

“I’ve spoken to her as much as she’ll listen, and now you’re telling me you’ve spoken to her too. What do you think, Charles? Do you think a caning would do Ginny any good?”

“Caning a girl of eighteen? Well, that’s not something we’d consider without a great deal of thought. Do you not feel a period of suspension might give her the jolt she needs? Perhaps even threaten expulsion?”

“I think Ginny would laugh at it, Charles.”

“And you think the cane would be the best solution?”

“On balance, yes, I really do think it would be the best thing to do, Charles.”

“Are we talking about a token stroke or two?”

“No, I think six of the best at least.”

“Very well, six it shall be.” The headmaster pensively rubbed his hands together. “Do you want to tell her or shall I?”

“It might be better if it came from me, Charles. I’ll speak to her over supper tonight. When would be a convenient time for you to…, well, you know?”

“Tomorrow at four? Just after the end of school?”

“Yes, that would be good, Charles.”

The discussion concluded with polite farewells and Charles Weston returned to his work.

That evening, with the meal prepared, Mrs Peterson called up from the bottom of the stairs. “Ginny! Supper’s ready!”


By the time Virginia reached the dining room her mother had already dished up and the slim girl with long dark hair similar to her mother’s quickly sat down and picked up her knife and fork.

“Good day at school, darling?” Mrs Peterson asked innocently.

“Oh, you know, the usual.”

“I popped in and had a chat with Mr Weston today.” Mrs Peterson tried to sound casual.

“You ‘popped in’! Why?” Virginia demanded angrily.

“Well actually, darling, Mr Weston asked me to.”


“Do you really need me to tell you?” Mrs Peterson looked her daughter straight in the eye.

Virginia continued eating, ignoring the question.

“It can’t just continue, you know darling.” Her mother persisted.

“What can’t?”

“Smoking on the school premises when it’s forbidden. Arriving late. Being rude. Need I go on?”

“You pay the school fees.”

“That’s hardly the point, darling. As it is, Mr Weston has even been thinking about suspending you or worse.”

“Worse?” “Expelling you.”

Again Virginia ignored her mother and didn’t respond.

“I can’t imagine you relish the idea of starting at a new school at this late stage.”

“Possibly not.” Finally Virginia did reply.

“Anyway, darling, I’ve managed to convince Mr Weston regarding another course of action.”

“Go on.” Virginia looked up, suspiciously.

Her mother sighed, then took a deep breath. “I don’t quite know how to put this, but I’ve asked Mr Weston to cane you.”

Virginia choked on her food and took some moments before she was able to swallow. “I’m sorry?”

“That’s all right, darling.” Mrs Peterson misinterpreted, deliberately in Virginia’s opinion.

“You have asked my headmaster to cane me? Are you serious, mother?”

“Perfectly serious, darling.”

“Anyway, I’m in the sixth form.” Virginia countered.

“That doesn’t make you exempt, darling. I checked that out with Mr Weston.”

“You have been busy, haven’t you mother?”

“Mr Weston asked me to go and speak to him because he was so concerned with your bad behaviour, my girl. No-one has got you into this mess other than you. Mr Weston and I merely talked over the best way of dealing with you.”

“And he suggested caning me, did he?”

“No, actually that was my idea.”

“Your idea? Why? Why do you want Mr Weston to cane me?” Virginia argued desperately, on the point of tears.

“You need to be taught a lesson, darling. You need to realise you have responsibilities and life isn’t just about doing what you want, when you want, and the heck with anyone else.”

“Okay. Okay. Perhaps I haven’t been the model pupil, but to ask the headmaster to cane me! Do you realise what that means, mother?”

“I’ve a pretty fair idea, yes darling. The cane was around in my day too, you know.”

“Huh!” Virginia glared into her mother’s eyes until she realised there was no way of persuading her to change her mind. “What’s going to happen?”

“Mr Weston will see you at four o’clock. It’s all arranged.”

“I’m going to my room!” Virginia declared, having heard quite enough for one meal time.

The following morning, Ginny was asked to have a word with the headmaster’s secretary, Mrs Jones, whenever she had a free moment. There was little doubt in Ginny’s mind what that would be about. An opportunity occurred just after lunch.

“I believe you wanted a word?” Ginny leaned over the counter, having checked carefully no-one was nearby and thus able to hear.

“Ah, Virginia.” Mrs Jones, a fifty-something rather dowdy woman with horn-rimmed glasses looked up from her desk. “Yes, now let me see.” The secretary hunted through some papers and extracted a couple of sheets, then got up and placed them on the counter in front of Ginny. “I believe you have an appointment with Mr Weston at four this afternoon. Is that correct?”

“That’s what I was told.”

“A disciplinary matter, I understand?” Mrs Jones peered over her glasses at the tall dark-haired eighteen year old.


“Yes. I thought you might not be aware of the procedure for such matters, Virginia, so I thought it best if we had a little private chat.”

“Procedure? Is it that complicated?”

Mrs Jones smiled. “No, not really. But there are possibly one or two things you may not have considered, so I thought it best if I filled in any gaps, just so you know what will happen.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“Well, for a start, have you been told how many strokes will be applied?”

“No.” Ginny checked the corridor up and down again. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Okay. I can tell you now it will be six strokes, Virginia.”

“Six!” Ginny practically shrieked the word, which made her check again the corridor was still clear.

“Applied to the seat, of course.”

“The seat?”

“Your bottom.”

“My bot…! You’re not serious?”

“I’m perfectly serious, Virginia.” Mrs Jones looked disdainfully over the horn-rimmed glasses.

“This just gets worse.” Ginny said under her breath.

“While we’re dealing with the bad news, Virginia, I also have to point out the cane is used over one layer of clothing only, your games shorts are probably the best choice.”

Ginny shook her head as though trying to clear it so she could take in what was being said to her. “Hold on. What’s with the games shorts?”

Mrs Jones sighed. “As I said, the cane will be applied over one layer of clothing. In order to preserve decorum, girls are asked to change into games wear.” The secretary smiled. “Nothing under the shorts, of course.”


“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to drop your trousers and bend over in just your knickers, would you?”

“Well, no.” Ginny had in mind the very brief pink panties she’d put on that morning. “No, I suppose not.”

“Quite. So, come and see me at four o’clock this afternoon and I’ll escort you down to the changing room.”


“I have to watch you getting changed.” Mrs Jones explained, but Ginny’s baffled expression suggested further explanation was needed. “It’s to make sure you don’t pad yourself with extra pairs of knickers or anything that might interfere with the cane. No cheating!”

“Eh?” Ginny still looked confused.

“A pair of thin games shorts won’t give your bottom much protection, will they?” Mrs Jones grinned.

“Right.” Finally, the penny dropped. Ginny took a deep breath and puffed her cheeks out as she realised just what an ordeal this was turning out to be. “So, I have to report to you at four. Is that right?”

“That’s correct, Virginia.”

As Ginny turned to walk back along the corridor, she found herself face-to-face with Natalie Wakefield, a fellow sixth former and reasonably close friend.

“Nattie! What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was just going to have a quick word with Mrs Jones about refreshments for the hockey match on Saturday, but your conversation sounded far more interesting. What’s going on?”

“Oh, it’s, er, just some little thing I’m doing for the headmaster, actually.” Ginny tried to sound relaxed as the pair walked along.

“Oh yes?” Natalie laughed. “And what little thing would that be, Ginny?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

“Nothing? What sort of nothing means Mrs Jones has to watch you change into your games kit? And after four o’clock too. What’s going on?”


“You’re not getting the cane, are you?”

“The cane! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“You are, aren’t you?” Natalie giggled with excitement.

“Of course not!”

“I don’t believe you.” Natalie looked carefully into Ginny’s eyes.

“Look, promise you’ll keep quiet about it?”

“You are, aren’t you?”


The remainder of the school day passed all too quickly for Ginny’s liking and just two minutes after the bell announced it was four o’clock and the end of the school day, she presented herself at Mrs Jones’ office. As Ginny stood at the counter, Mrs Jones was so engrossed in her work that she failed to notice the new arrival. Ginny coughed.

“Ah, Virginia. I won’t be a moment.” Mrs Jones finished writing some notes, placed some papers in a folder and stood up. “Have you got your games kit?”

“Yes, I stopped off at my locker on the way here.” Ginny lifted up her red sports bag to prove the point.

“Good, let’s get going then.”

When the secretary joined Ginny in the corridor, they walked steadily along towards the changing room with Ginny leading and Mrs Jones following. The journey took just a couple of minutes, although the tense silence between the two females made it feel longer. Ginny pushed on the metal grille shutter doors that closed off the changing room, then suddenly looked round.

“What’s the matter?” Mrs Jones also looked round, but could see nothing other than the empty classroom opposite.

“I thought I heard something.”

“I don’t see anyone.” Mrs Jones shrugged. “Come along, let’s get on with it.”

The changing room comprised ten rows of wooden benches, each with a double coat-hook above. Ginny went in as far as the fifth row and stopped at the third hook. She looked round, sheepishly.

“I don’t suppose delaying things will make it any easier, Virginia.”

“No, I guess not.” Ginny unbuttoned her black blazer and slipped it off, placing it over the top hook. Her blue and white tie soon followed.

“Should I change my top too?” Ginny paused with her fingers poised on the top button of her white blouse.

“It’s up to you, Virginia. It might look a bit odd walking through the school in your games shorts and blouse, though.” Mrs Jones answered, mindful the eighteen year old might not want to give the game away too easily.

“Perhaps.” Ginny murmured before unfastening the blouse, sliding it off and hanging it on the hook. She searched her hold-all and extracted a white games shirt with a broad red stripe running across the middle. It took just a moment to quickly slip the garment on.

Now Ginny turned her attention to her tight fitting black trousers, unhooking the top button and then sliding the zip down. After struggling to ease the tight trousers down her shapely legs, she found she had to sit down on the bench and remove her shoes before the trousers could be eased off over her feet.

Still sitting on the wooden bench, Ginny removed white games shorts and white plimsolls from her games hold-all and placed them neatly on the bench beside her. As she stood up, Ginny turned so that her back faced towards Mrs Jones and slipped her brief pink knickers down over her hips and let the flimsy garment fall to her ankles. She reached down and unhooked the panties from her feet, grabbed her white games shorts and hastily pulled them on before picking up her underwear and hanging the panties on the hook. Sitting down again, she completed her ensemble by fitting the white plimsolls onto her feet and tying the laces.

Remaining seated, Ginny looked up at Mrs Jones who looked back down at her with arms tightly folded.


“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Ginny replied.

“Stand up, then.”

Ginny complied.

“Turn around.”

“Turn around?” Ginny queried, but did as she was told and then squealed as she felt her white games shorts being pulled down.

“Just checking you didn’t slip any padding into your shorts, Virginia.”

“Of course I didn’t!” Ginny retorted as the shorts were pulled roughly back up again.

“Good. Lead the way, Virginia.”

Ginny went slowly out of the changing room and into the corridor, looking suspiciously into the empty classroom opposite as she went. The walk back along the corridor seemed to take much less time and they were soon standing outside the door to Mr Weston’s study.

“Ready?” Mrs Jones asked, her expression almost as sombre as Ginny’s.

Ginny simply nodded.

“Are you ready for us, Mr Weston?” Mrs Jones tapped on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

“Virginia! Stand there!” The headmaster had stood up from behind his desk and was pointing to the area of carpet in front. As Virginia’s feet trod into the thick pile carpet, her eyes focused on an armchair placed oddly in the middle of the room with its back facing her. Reaching the spot indicated by Mr Weston, Ginny turned her attention to the three foot long cane resting on the headmaster’s desk. It looked thin and evil, a pale yellow colour with one end tightly curled round into a crook handle. The straight part was not perfectly straight, and suggested it had seen a fair bit of use.

“Virginia, it is extremely rare that I have to punish sixth form girls, especially by caning them. However, your behaviour has been such that I have no hesitation in caning you. Your caning is most richly deserved. I hope you learn from it and I hope there will not have to be a repeat performance. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Ginny, already trembling from the sight of the cane and the waiting chair, found herself close to tears at the headmaster’s harsh words.

“Virginia is suitably prepared, is she Mrs Jones?”

“Yes, Mr Weston.” The secretary answered from over Ginny’s right shoulder.

“If you look to your left, Virginia, you will see a chair. Do you see the chair, Virginia?”

“Yes, sir.” Ginny looked again at the chair, even though she was already quite aware of its presence.

“Go and stand at the back of the chair.”

Ginny immediately swivelled to her left and took the few short steps across the thick pile carpet until she was standing just to the rear of the back of the chair. She looked down. The chair, framed in walnut, had a red velvet upholstered seat and a matching back which curved over the top.

Hearing several swishes behind her, Ginny looked round and saw Mr Weston taking a number of practice swings with the cane. All too soon the practice session came to an end and the headmaster approached.

“When I tell you bend over, Virginia, I want you to get right down across the back of that chair. Head down and bottom up. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Ginny mumbled, her eyes already beginning to moisten.

“Bend over.”

“Sir, this really isn’t necessary. I’ve learnt my lesson, really…”

“You’re not here for a discussion, girl! You’re here for punishment! Bend over and take the good hiding you richly deserve.”

“Yes, sir.” Ginny started to lean over the back of the chair, tears falling from the corner of her eyes.

Feeling the thin cotton of her games shorts closing ever more tightly around her bottom, Ginny kept forcing her head lower and lower until it was level with the seat of the chair. The red velvet on the top rail pressed firmly into her stomach and she felt she had gone as far as she could in offering herself for punishment, but her headmaster felt otherwise.

“Stick your bottom out, girl.”

Ginny thrust her hips back and arched her lower spine until she felt her bottom, now tightly encased in the white games shorts, really protruding. The position was extremely uncomfortable and she desperately hoped her headmaster would be satisfied.

“Now hold still girl. This is going to hurt and you have six strokes to take.”

Ginny braced herself as the cane swished and then an almighty crack resonated around the room, causing a sudden sear of burning pain as the cane lashed across her tightly stretched shorts. She just managed to avoid crying out, but a fresh stream of tears was inescapable.

Within seconds, the cane swished again and a second deafening crack heralded another scorching dose of unbelievable pain to unleash itself across Ginny’s next to naked buttocks.


“Hold still!” The headmaster’s response to Ginny’s pitiful cry was terse and abrupt.

Relentlessly, the cane swished and yet another merciless slash of pain whipped into the already sore and tender backside of the eighteen year old.


Ginny’s head bobbed up as she grimaced with the intense pain. As quickly as she could, she forced herself back down again into that uncomfortable position, successfully avoiding incurring the further wrath of her headmaster.

Immediately the sinister sound of the cane swooping through the air filled her ears and another incredibly loud crack echoed round the room as the cane crashed into her red sore bottom.


Again, Ginny’s head snapped up as the intense pain burned her thinly clad backside.

“Do keep still, girl!” The headmaster’s voice thundered.

“I’m trying, sir.” Ginny wailed, tears streaming down her face as she struggled back into position.

In seconds, the cane thrashed across her bottom and sent yet another dose of breath-taking pain streaking across her backside.


That stroke had made Ginny arch her back and press forward harder into the back of the chair. It took all the willpower the tearful girl could muster to press herself down and stick her bottom out for yet more punishment.

A longer pause caught Ginny unawares when the cane did eventually swoosh down. The sound of cane whipping into the taut cotton seat of the games shorts was incredibly loud and seemed to echo round the room from wall to wall. All the while, an even hotter, harsher pain spread like wildfire across the entirety of Ginny’s backside and she arched up yet again totally involuntarily.

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeechh! God, that hurt!!”

“That completes your punishment, Virginia. Now get out of my sight, you wretched girl!”

As Ginny very slowly eased herself up from her bending position over the back of the chair, she heard the headmaster add: “Help her, would you, please Mrs Jones.”

With her legs as weak as jelly, Ginny should perhaps have been grateful for the supportive hand of the secretary taking her by the arm, but all the eighteen year old could think about was the incredible pain she continued to feel across the whole of her bottom.

After fully three minutes had passed with Ginny supporting herself with one hand on the back of the chair and the other arm gripped by Mrs Jones, finally she felt able to turn slowly towards the door. Each step was an effort, every movement causing the cotton material of her shorts to chafe against the soreness of her backside. Finally, they reached the door.

“Thank you, sir.” Ginny called over her shoulder, catching just a glimpse of the headmaster sitting back at his desk.

“Virginia.” Mr Weston acknowledged tersely.

At least Mrs Jones allowed Ginny to set the pace as they went slowly along the corridor.

“God, I didn’t realise such a thin little cane could cause so much pain.” Ginny sobbed.

“Mr Weston rarely uses the cane but when he does he really lays it on hard.” Mrs Jones replied. “He doesn’t like to think anyone would want to endure it again.”

“He’s right about that.”

“Good behaviour back on the agenda, is it?”

“Too right.”

When, finally, they reached the changing room, Mrs Jones led Ginny up to her peg and released her grip on the girl’s arm. “You’ll be all right now, will you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll be in my office if you need me for, well, anything.” Mrs Jones spoke gently in keeping with the girl’s obvious distress. “I should have a nice cold shower if I was you. Have you got a towel?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

As Mrs Jones’ footsteps disappeared along the corridor, Ginny peeled off her white games shirt with the red cross band and tossed it down on the bench. It was agony to put first one foot and then the other up on the low bench to untie her plimsolls and fling them off. Just as the eighteen year old was about to peel down her white games shorts, a voice from behind made her jump out of her skin.

“Oh good! I’m not too late to see what a well smacked bottom looks like.”

“Natalie!” Ginny looked round over her shoulder. “You scared the living daylights out of me!”

“Come on, get them down. Let’s see the damage.” Ginny’s fellow sixth former stood behind her, eagerly awaiting the lowering of the shorts.

“God, it still smarts like hell.” Ginny observed as she slowly and gently lowered her shorts.

“Good grief!” Natalie shrieked as Ginny’s bottom was slowly revealed.

“What’s it like?”

“Awful! Red and sore all over, and six darker stripes all neatly spaced down your bottom. I don’t need to ask how many you got.”

“I’m going to take a shower.” Ginny said as she stood quite naked in front of the other girl.

“Okay. I’ll watch. Where’s your towel?”


“Come along, old girl.” Natalie said as she took Ginny’s arm in response to seeing the difficulty she had in walking.

“God, that’s better!” Ginny shouted above the sound of the water, as she stood under the shower head.

“Do you want me to turn the heat up?”

“No, it’s nice and cold and soothing.”

After a good five minute shower, Ginny was able to take the towel offered out to her and the two girls returned to the changing room.

“It’s still awfully sore.” Ginny remarked as she pulled on her brief pink panties under the watchful gaze of her friend.

“I can imagine.”

“I think I’ll walk home if you don’t mind. That little Mini of yours is a bit too bouncy for my present state.”

“Problem already solved.” Natalie answered. “While you were busy getting your bottom smacked I popped home and borrowed dad’s car. It’s a Rover, all nice and smooth and comfortable.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“All part of the service for naughty schoolgirls like you.”

Despite the more comfortable car, and Natalie’s efforts to drive especially smoothly, the journey to Ginny’s home was still a sore and painful affair.

“Now I’ve got to face my dear mother.” Ginny announced as she got out of the car.

“I think I’ll leave that one to you.” Natalie answered, remaining in the driver’s seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ginny! Is that you?”

Ginny ignored the voice, and then her mother’s head appeared round the door of the sitting room.

“Come and sit down, darling.” The older woman looked anxious. “How did you get on?”

“Sitting down is rather a sore point with me right now, mother!” Ginny said with feeling. “A coffee would be nice though. Or a double whiskey.”

“I’ll get the coffee.” Mrs Peterson went into the kitchen and Ginny could hear the clinking of mugs.

When Mrs Peterson returned carrying a tray with two steaming mugs, she found Ginny sitting back on the sofa.

“So, how was it?”

“It was not very nice, actually mother.” Ginny winced as her mother sat on the sofa beside her, causing the upholstered seat to bounce.

“Is it very sore?” Mrs Peterson handed her daughter one of the two mugs of coffee. “This one’s yours.”

“Yes. Very.” Ginny took the mug and took several sips. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“I’m sorry, darling, but you needed something like that to make you sit up and take notice. You really were getting out of control.”

“You never mentioned it.”

“Yes I did, actually. You just didn’t listen.”


“I really was quite desperate to know what to do. Then, when Mr Weston called me in and asked about discipline at home, I told him I thought you needed a good spanking. That’s when I had the idea about getting him to cane you.” Mrs Peterson laughed. “I don’t think he was particularly keen on the idea at first. I really had to persuade him.”


“Oh yes. He seemed to prefer me doing it. Spanking you, I mean.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think you’d agree to it, darling.”

“I would now, mummy. Believe me, I would now!”

The End