A girl cheats, and finds the consequences are never-ending
By Kenny Walters
“You mean you’re going to tell her?” Helen Fanshaw stood open-mouthed in exaggerated astonishment as she and her best friend stood on the corner of the pavement.
Sophie Drysdale nodded solemnly.
“I don’t think I would.”
“No choice.” Sophie explained. “I have to get her to write a letter to the headmaster saying she agrees.
The two eighteen year old schoolgirls continued along the road silently for several moments before Helen spoke. “Letters can be forged.”
“Don’t be silly, Helen! I’m in enough trouble already! All I need right now is to add a charge of forgery on top of everything else!”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Helen nodded thoughtfully as she weighed up the pros and cons in her own mind. “She’ll go spare. You know that, don’t you?”
Now it was Sophie’s turn to ponder. ‘Spare’ wasn’t quite how she foresaw her mother reacting. Calm, calculating and very firm was her own reckoning.
The two schoolgirls continued in silence until they came to the corner of the road where they went their separate ways; blonde haired Sophie would turn into the side road while dark haired Helen would continue straight along for another half dozen houses.
“Good luck old girl!” was Helen’s parting message to her best friend.
“Not another PTA meeting!” Janet Drysdale took the brown envelope from Sophie’s outstretched hand as she came into the living room.
“‘Fraid not, mummy.” Sophie uttered nervously.
Mrs Drysdale ignored her daughter until she’d finished reading the letter. “Sophie! What have you been up to?”
“Actually, mummy, it’s all a bit of a misunderstanding.”
“Really? Do tell me all about it.” Mrs Drysdale sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her for Sophie to join her.
“Well, as you know, we had our French mock exam this morning and I’d forgotten I’d left some revision notes in my pencil case. I didn’t use them or anything, but unfortunately Miss Henderson spotted them and accused me of cheating.”
“How did Miss Henderson spot them if they were still in your pencil case?”
“Oh, I left the case open and she must have noticed they were inside.”
“But, aren’t you supposed to leave all books and things like revision notes outside?”
“Yes mummy, I just forgot they were there.” Sophie sighed in exasperation as she struggled to get the point over to her mother.
“So when did you realise they were actually still in your pencil case?”
“When I opened the case, of course!”
“No need to raise your voice, Sophie!” Mrs Drysdale reprimanded. “So, why didn’t you simply raise your hand and tell Miss Henderson the notes were still there before the exam started?”
“I don’t know, mummy. I was just too scared to, I suppose.”
“So, now you have to report to Mr Johnson’s study tomorrow for the cane.”
“Only…… only if you agree, mummy.”
“I have no choice but to agree, Sophie! You know you shouldn’t have had those notes with you in the exam room, don’t you?”
“Well, yes mummy. But I told you how they got there!”
“You should have handed them in before the exam started, Sophie!”
“Yes mummy.” Sophie looked glum, her one slight hope of escape now dashed.
“I think I have to spank you, darling!”
“Normally, I’d leave it to your father to deal with you but, as you know, he’s away on business all week.”
“Oh mummy! No!”
“It’s nothing more than you deserve, Sophie!”
“But Mr Johnson’s going to cane me tomorrow!” Sophie pleaded. “Surely that’s enough!”
“Sophie! We’ve always said that if you were dishonest in any way you would be punished. Well, you have been dishonest.”
“But I’m going to be punished by Mr Johnson tomorrow!”
“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll take that into account. Anyway, you’d better get off to your room and get out of your school uniform.”
With a large sigh, Sophie left her mother sitting in the lounge and went up the stairs to her bedroom. After sitting on her bed for a few moments to contemplate the unfairness of it all, the eighteen year old stood up and removed her dark blue blazer with the school crest sewn to the top pocket and hung it on a hook on the door. She then unbuttoned her blue and yellow check gingham dress down the back and slipped it off her shoulders. The light summer garment dropped into a heap around her ankles, from where Sophie untangled it from her feet and hung it neatly on a coat hanger before placing it on the same hook as her blazer. Wearing just white brief panties, white knee length socks and a white bra, Sophie sat down on the edge of her bed again.
The phone rang downstairs, and Sophie strained to hear what her mother was saying.
“Oh, hello Mary.” It was Helen’s mother; obviously her friend had broken the news to her own mother.
“I know. I can’t imagine what she was thinking of.” Well, at least Sophie’s mother was getting some support from her friends; Sophie felt she could do with some support of her own just now.
“Yes, I’m going to spank her bottom.” Sophie grimaced. “Oh, yes she will be getting the cane. That’s what Mr Johnson has said he’s going to do and I’ll give Sophie a note confirming I agree with him. Yes.” Mrs Drysdale laughed. “Yes, she is going to end up with a pretty sore bottom come this time tomorrow!” After yet more laughter, Sophie’s mother steered the conversation onto more mundane matters.
“Glad they both think it’s so funny!” Sophie thought to herself.
The eighteen year old heard the telephone receiver being replaced. Then panic struck as she heard her mother beginning to come up the stairs. In a mad haste, Sophie quickly pulled on a thin white cotton top and a pair of blue jeans. She was just buckling the belt when her mother entered the room.
“You don’t seriously think I’m going to spank you over those thick jeans now do you?”
Mrs Drysdale stood bolt upright with her arms firmly folded, looking down at her daughter as she waited.
“Oooooh! It’s not fair!” Sophie began to unfasten the belt. Even with the teenager’s accentuated slowness, she all too quickly found herself standing before her mother feeling slightly ridiculous in just her white top, white knickers and white socks.
Calmly and deliberately, Mrs Drysdale picked up a small chair and turned it round before indicating with a wave of her hand the purpose of her action. Sophie took an awkward couple of steps and dived over the back of the chair.
“This really isn’t fair, mummy.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you!”
Sophie felt the top of her knickers being tugged up so that the thin cotton garment was stretched tightly around her upthrust backside and the lower portions of her bottom protruded naked to her mother’s gaze.
Sophie jolted as she felt her mother’s hand slap very firmly across the seat of her white knickers.
The second stung the left side of Sophie’s bottom.
Now it was the turn of the right buttock to suffer.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
In fairly rapid succession, Sophie felt her bottom being smacked plumb in the centre, then to the left, then to the right.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Another trio of stinging slaps danced across the eighteen year old’s brief knickers. Sophie gripped the edge of the seat tightly and braced herself as she tried to keep her bottom still. Previous experience had taught her it was best to offer her bottom fair and square to her mother’s hand and get the punishment over with.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Sophie’s eyes began to water as the next volley attacked her sparsely protected backside. She wondered whether other girls of her age, like her friend Helen perhaps, would make such an effort to maintain this undignified pose and so readily cooperate with her mother spanking her. But then probably other mothers had their own ways of dealing with daughters who resisted taking their due punishment.
Sophie felt her brief white knickers being pulled away from the close fitting contact with her soft round bottom.
“Just checking, darling.” Mrs Drysdale looked carefully at the reddening skin. “Three more and I think we’ll call it a day.”
Sophie braced herself once again. Arguing would be totally pointless.
The left buttock smarted sorely.
Now the right side stung equally sharply.
“Ouch!!” Sophie wailed as the final whack whipped down onto the centre of her bottom.
Mrs Drysdale’s hand slipped softly across the surface of the white cotton underwear as she retracted her hand from the final stroke. “Up you get, darling.”
Sophie pushed herself up, turned and was quickly embraced by her mother.
“You are such a naughty girl you know, darling.”
“I’m sorry mummy.”
The following day, Sophie found Helen Fanshaw waiting for her at the corner of the road.
“How was it?” Helen looked anxious.
“How was what?”
“I heard my mother talking to yours on the phone.” Helen informed her friend.
“So I know what she did to you.”
“Then why ask?”
“Just curious. What time do you have to report to Mr Johnson?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you got the letter from your mother?”
“I expect it will be about eleven o’clock. That’s when they’re usually carried out.” Helen said knowledgeably.
“You know about these things, do you?”
“Well, not personally. I’ve never had the cane. But that’s when most people seem to get the dreaded summons.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Sophie snapped.
Indeed, the two friends did manage some sort of conversation about other matters of little consequence. When they neared the school entrance, though, some of the other more boisterous girls began to torment poor Sophie with their comments.
“Bet you’re looking forward to seeing old Johnno today, Sophie!”
“Wouldn’t like to be in your shoes, Sophie. Mr Johnson hates cheating, you know!”
“Hope you’ve got a thick pair of knickers on, Sophie!”
“With something as serious as this, she won’t be keeping her knickers on!”
Right up until the moment the teacher walked into their classroom, Sophie was the object of everyone’s attention. For once, she was grateful for the presence of a member of staff. The day seemed to fly by so quickly until in the middle of their History lesson Mrs Briggs, the middle-aged school secretary, entered the classroom and had a whispered discussion with Mr Holness, the History teacher.
“Sophie! Collect your books together and go with Mrs Briggs, would you please!”
Sophie’s heart started pounding. This was it! She collected her things together, only too aware of everyone in the classroom staring at her. With everything hastily forced into her bag, the eighteen year old blonde girl followed Mrs Briggs out into the corridor.
“Have you got the letter from your mother for me?”
“Yes, Mrs Briggs.” Sophie handed the letter over and waited while the school secretary tore open the envelope and read the brief note.
“Good! Come with me!”
Sophie instinctively turned to the right, to begin the agonising march along to the Headmaster’s study, but Mrs Briggs went the other way.
“This way!” Mrs Briggs called. Surprised, the eighteen year old turned and followed the school secretary. They concluded the journey when Mrs Briggs unlocked the large brass padlock that fastened the iron grille doors guarding the school’s changing rooms and ushered Sophie in.
“Right Sophie! Put your bag down there, please. Now, I want you to remove your blazer and hang it on the peg. Quickly now!”
Confused by these unexpected proceedings, but far too scared to question, Sophie parked her bag on the floor and pulled off her dark blue blazer, duly hanging it up on the peg above her.
“Now, unfasten your dress and put that on the peg with your blazer.”
In a repeat performance of the previous evening, Sophie unfastened the buttons at the back of her blue and yellow check gingham dress, slipped it off and hung it up with the blazer.
“Good! Now remain standing with your back to me, please. Don’t move!”
Still totally confused, Sophie did as she was told and felt her white cotton briefs being tugged away from her bottom. While Sophie couldn’t actually see what was going on, she could almost feel the school secretary’s eyes on her naked bottom.
“Just checking you’ve only got the one pair of pants on.” Mrs Briggs explained. “We don’t want any more cheating, do we?”
The comment really grated but the eighteen year old blonde girl nonetheless answered politely with a simple: “No, Mrs Briggs.”
“Those marks on your bottom, Sophie. Would I be correct in assuming your mother was also less than impressed with your behaviour?”
Sophie blushed. “Yes, Mrs Briggs.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Right, let’s get going.”
“Yes, Sophie. To the headmaster’s study.”
“Right.” Because she’d been brought to the changing rooms, Sophie had assumed her punishment was to be administered in the gymnasium next door with her bent over one of the two leather padded vaulting horses. With the news that she was after all to receive her caning in the confines of the headmaster’s study, Sophie reached up to take her dress off the clothes hook.
“You won’t be needing that, Sophie.” Mrs Briggs’ voice was stern and commanding.
“What am I supposed to wear then?”
“What you are wearing now, Sophie. Your bra and pants.”
“But everyone will be looking at me, Mrs Briggs.”
“I can’t help that, Sophie. The headmaster wants to make an example of you. You know how he feels about cheating.”
“Yes.” Sophie muttered miserably.
“Right. Off we go then.”
Mrs Briggs ushered a very reluctant Sophie back out into the corridor and relocked the changing room behind them. As Sophie experienced the humiliation of walking the length of the corridor in just her underwear, she sensed all the girls in all the classrooms they passed looking up from their lessons and smirking.
“Face the wall!”
When they finally reached the door to Mr Johnson’s study, Sophie wasn’t sure whether to be sorry or thankful. Upon being ordered to stand outside in the corridor while the school secretary went in, Sophie had yet more agonising minutes to ponder the choice.
With just the green and cream painted corridor wall to look at, Sophie strained in vain to make out the muffled conversation she could barely hear between Mrs Briggs and Mr Johnson. During that time, several girls passed by, and Sophie had to endure a variety of sniggers and taunts. One girl pinched Sophie’s bottom. Another tried to tug her knickers down. Sophie fended off the unwelcome attentions silently, fearful she might get herself into even more trouble if she reacted in any way that attracted the attention of those inside the study.
“You can come in now, Sophie!”
Sophie jumped as Mrs Briggs appeared at the open door. In moments, Sophie found herself standing in front of Mr Johnson’s large desk while the Headmaster read her mother’s letter.
“So, Sophie Drysdale.” Finally, the balding plump figure looked up at her, Mr Johnson’s dark beady eyes peering over spectacles that dangled precariously halfway down his beak-like nose. “Caught cheating in an exam, eh?”
“Yes sir. I’m very sorry, sir.” Sophie saw little point in denying the offence, or indeed in trying to explain that it was all due to her forgetfulness regarding the whereabouts of her revision papers. Such protestations might make the situation even worse for her.
Frankly, I’m amazed young lady. For Heaven’s sakes, Sophie, you’ve an unblemished record. You work hard, you’re intelligent, you simply had no need to cheat like this.”
“No, sir.” The eighteen year old muttered miserably. “I know.”
“Anyway.” Mr Johnson could see the girl was suitably penitent. “What’s done is done. We’ll put it down to uncharacteristic foolishness this time and move on from there. Be in no doubt, Sophie, cheating is a very serious matter, a matter usually punished by immediate expulsion.”
When the headmaster visibly relaxed and sat back in his chair, Sophie began to wonder whether the events so far had simply been a means of scaring her and humiliating her. If so, they’d worked.
Mr Johnson, allowed his eyes to drift up the figure of the attractive eighteen year old standing before him in just her underwear. “Anyway, Sophie, we’re not going to expel you. On this occasion we’ll let you learn your lesson by means of a short, sharp shock. I see from this letter your mother concurs.”
“Yes sir.” Sophie bit her lip.
“Your punishment is to be six strokes of the cane. Understand?”
Sophie’s heart sank. There was to be no let off. “Yes, sir.” She answered.
When Mr Johnson got up, Sophie’s heart began thumping so hard she felt it might burst through her chest. As Mr Johnson then walked slowly over to a cupboard in one corner of the room, her head started swimming around to the point where she feared she might pass out.
Nonetheless, Sophie’s attention was drawn to the headmaster as he opened the cupboard door and fumbled around inside for a nail-biting age. When, finally, he turned, Sophie saw for the first time the three foot length of rattan that was to be the implement for her punishment.
Mr Johnson marched round his desk until he was standing next to the terrified schoolgirl. Taking her by the arm, he turned her a quarter turn to the left.
“Bend over and touch your toes!”
Anxious to obey, Sophie thrust her head down and reached out for her toes. She hated having to do it this way, for she had never been good at touching her toes even in a gym lesson. Now, her fingers hovered almost six inches from her shiny black shoes.
“Come on, girl!” Mr Johnson urged her. “Head down, bottom up!”
Sophie strained and the tips of her fingers brushed against the hard leather of her shoes. She struggled to hold the position and hoped Mr Johnson would deliver the first stroke quickly, lest she failed to keep her stretched body in this uncomfortable posture. The touching of the slender rattan rod against the strained thin material of her white knickers brought forth simultaneous feelings of thankfulness and fear.
Sophie drew her breath in sharply as the searing pain cut across the whole of her bottom. Her eyes watered and she felt her body snatch upwards.
“Toes, girl!” Mr Johnson’s loud, commanding voice reminded Sophie to reach down again for the tips of her shoes. She succeeded, just. Once more, she felt the hard rattan resting against her thin cotton underwear. It stayed there for what seemed a very long time, and Sophie again thought of how this was such an awkward and uncomfortable position. Far better to be across the back of a chair, like when her mother spanked her.
“Aaaaaaahhh!!” Sophie felt herself sucking in the air as another red hot stinging whip of the cane brought fresh agony to her backside. Once again, she felt her body snatch involuntarily upwards, away from the finger touching stretch.
“Do keep still, girl!” Mr Johnson roared tetchily.
“I…… I’m trying to, sir!” Gasped the eighteen year old. As she reached down again for the tips of her shoes, Sophie felt the hard touch of the rattan rod against her thinly clad bottom.
“Oooouuuuwwww!” She gasped. After just three strokes, her bottom felt as though it was on fire. Above that, Sophie knew she had allowed her body to jerk up as the cane struck, and she anticipated with considerable dread another reprimand for not maintaining her position.
“Sophie Drysdale! I really must ask you to hold still!”
She reached down yet again, and was rewarded with the touch of the slender cane.
“Oooooooooohhhhh!!!” Sophie gasped the air into her lungs as the fourth stroke lashed across her upthrust backside. Her bottom was really throbbing with pain and she knew yet again she had failed to hold quite still after the cane had met its target.
“This really won’t do, Sophie!” The eighteen year old was concentrating so hard on dealing with the stinging soreness of her bottom that she only just realised the Headmaster was speaking to her. She therefore was already reaching down for her toes when she became aware that in fact Mr Johnson was not readying himself to deliver the next stroke, rather he was piling the papers on his desk towards one end.
“Mrs Briggs! Would you assist, please?”
Sophie had already begun straightening up when the school secretary seized her by the arm and pushed her rather roughly to the end of Mr Johnson’s desk that had been cleared of all his paperwork.
“Bend over, girl!”
Sophie leaned over the desk and rested the upper part of her body down onto the hard wooden surface, gripping the edges tightly with her fingers. Had she been requested to adopt this position in the beginning, Sophie might have welcomed it in preference to having to touch her toes. As it was, she was very sore from the previous strokes and now, with the hard edge of the desk cutting into her tummy, she felt very uncomfortable indeed. She was soon to feel even more uncomfortable.
Rather than stand back to allow the Headmaster to conclude Sophie’s punishment, Mrs Briggs seemed to be taking an age folding the schoolgirl’s vest so the lower part of her back was quite naked. Then, suddenly, Sophie felt the middle-aged woman’s fingers in the elastic top of her knickers and, with one quick tug, the thin garment was whipped down to her knees.
Sophie closed her eyes tightly, gripped the desk for all she was worth, and waited. Any thought of protest was quite beyond her. She flinched as the cold rattan touched gently against her bare backside.
The hard thin rod cut sharply into the pale creamy surface of Sophie’s bottom and stung, stung in a way that brought instant tears to the eighteen year old’s eyes. She grunted and sniffled, but for once bore the effect of the stroke without crying out aloud. With a haste that caught the schoolgirl by surprise, Sophie felt the thin cane being laid gently onto her sore bottom. She gripped the edge of the desk and hung on.
Another surge of tears flooded into the young girl’s eyes, and Sophie arched her back as the pale rattan struck its target. Somehow, the thought that this should be the conclusion of her punishment made the surge of stinging pain just slightly more bearable, although she flopped back down onto the desk in the awful fear she might be awarded an extra stroke or two for her inability to maintain contact with her toes.
“Thank you, Sophie.” She heard those words with relief. “Would you assist, please Mrs Briggs?”
Sophie felt her white knickers being jerked up from around her knees, although thankfully they were more delicately eased in place around her sore bottom.
“Up you get, girl!” Sophie felt Mrs Briggs holding her by the arm, albeit with more gentleness than had been used to get her to the desk, and pulling her to a standing position.
With tears rolling down her face, Sophie felt herself being led slowly but steadily towards the door.
“Thank you, Sophie.” Mr Johnson repeated.
“Thank you, sir.” Sophie croaked, and then she was out into the corridor.
A couple of girls came towards them as the eighteen year old was taken back along the corridor towards the changing rooms, but they both went silently on their way with no more than anxious glances towards the still sobbing schoolgirl.
By the time Sophie had dressed and dried her tears, the school bell had rung for the lunch break.
“If you prefer, Sophie, you may spend the lunch hour in the library. If anyone asks what you are doing there, just refer them to me.” Mrs Briggs told her. Sophie gratefully took up this offer, knowing she would most likely be undisturbed in this part of the school which was out of bounds at this time.
For a good half hour, Sophie stood looking idly out of the large library window and staring down at nothing in particular.
“How did it go?” Sophie jumped, then looked round towards the hushed voice. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Sophie answered weakly, not especially pleased to see her friend, Helen Fanshaw.
“What do you think?” Sophie snapped back.
“I was just meaning to ask whether you got it on your hands or your bottom, actually!” Helen retorted. Then, in a more sympathetic tone, she asked: “How many?”
“Par for the course, I suppose.” Helen nodded knowingly. “Is it true you have to strip to your knickers?”
“You shouldn’t be here, you know!” Sophie snapped.
“No, we’d better keep our voices down.” Helen waited for a reply to her previous question. When no answer was forthcoming she tried again. “So, do you have to undress in front of him? Mr Johnson, I mean.”
Sophie shook her head. “In the changing rooms.”
Helen barely had time to think of her next question before the door sprang open.
“How many did you get?”
“Did you get it on the bare?”
“Bet you did!”
“Let’s get her and have a look at the marks!”
Seven or eight of their classmates rushed up to Sophie and bombarded her with their questions and comments. A couple took hold of her and began leading her to the long table in the centre of the library.
“Don’t!” Sophie protested, only too aware of the girls’ intent, and pushed and shoved against the throng of excited girls.
“What’s going on here?” A loud male voice echoed across the large room.
They all turned, suddenly silent. Mr Osborne, the games and history teacher, stood angrily in the doorway.
“Right! All of you, down to the gymnasium! Now! And prepare yourselves for the slipper!”
Quietly, and with solemn faces, the group of eighteen year old’s filed out of the library. As they slowly made their way down to the gymnasium, Sophie asked herself: “Should I tell him I’ve just had the cane? I know he’ll let me off. But what will the other girls think? Will they hate me if they get the slipper and I don’t? And what did he mean by ‘prepare yourselves’? It never rains but it pours!”