My First Time

A detailed account of a girl being caned for the first time.

 By Julie Baker

My name is Sally Graves and I was born in Bristol in September 1966. I am an only child and both my parents were, and still are, doctors working in Bath. From my early teens I have never seemed to be short of male admirers, so I can only conclude that the opposite sex find me attractive. That said, my opportunities with boys were limited in my teenage years, given that I was sent away to an all girls boarding school in the Midlands from the age of thirteen. However, I loved it there. I enjoyed the sport, studied hard and made many lifelong friends. We had to wear school uniform throughout our time at the school; this consisted of a white blouse, a dark blue blazer, a navy blue pleated skirt, plain white knickers, white socks and black shoes. I was fine with this as it suited my blond hair and fair complexion.

The school was a very caring environment with high standards of discipline and pupils were generally well behaved. Those who did transgress were normally dealt with via detentions and loss of privileges. The ultimate sanction was the use of the cane but this was very rare, probably only a couple of times a term on average. When a caning did take place it was much discussed amongst the girls but until my final year I didn’t even come close to having to go through this experience.

However things changed when I turned 18 at the start of my last academic year. I was the first in my year group to reach this mark and although I didn’t consciously behave differently I think, looking back, that I must have sensed some sort of entitlement to not always follow the rules. I needed to be at school to pass my exams and go to university, but suddenly I was an adult and thought that I didn’t necessarily have to do what the school staff told me to do.

I ended up getting the cane twice in that final year. The second time was for being out until midnight one night in my final term. The experience was no less painful, but I knew what to expect on this occasion and it was therefore less traumatic. My first time, though, was a total nightmare. I want to share this experience with you in a fair amount of detail so that you will begin to understand why the whole process was so difficult for me.

My best friend at school was a girl called Jenny. The details of how Jenny and I got into trouble a few weeks into the first term of our final year are unimportant. We were caught smoking in the school grounds and everyone knew that it was an automatic visit to see the headmistress, Mrs Gill, and that we would be caned. Only Mrs Gill could dispense corporal punishments and they were carried out in a room called the Precium. This is Latin for ‘payment’ and effectively it was the place that naughty girls paid for their crimes.

This room was located in the basement of the main school building and I suspect that originally it would have been a storeroom along from the main kitchens. It was about 4 meters square with a high window on the wall opposite the door and a floor consisting of stone flags. This space also doubled as a meeting room, so it had a small rectangular table positioned in the middle of it with two hard backed chairs on either side. In the corner to the right of the window stood a tall slim wooden cupboard. There was no other furniture in the Precium.

Despite canings being relatively rare, the school did set out a very detailed procedure for when they were deemed necessary. I suspect that this was done for two reasons. Firstly, in the interests of fairness and consistency. Secondly, I think it was done as a deterrent. Anyone reading the procedure would surely not want to experience it for real! The instructions were published at the back of every school day book issued to each girl at the start of every academic year. They were also reproduced on an A4 laminated sheet that was pinned to the back of the cupboard door in the Precium. I still have an old school book and below I have reproduced the exact wording below of the procedure as it was laid out back in the early 1980s:

Twelve Rules of The Precium

  1. Corporal punishment may only be administered to pupils by the Headmistress.
  1. All punishments will take place in the Precium.
  1. Pupil(s) will go to the Precium no less than 10 minutes before the time designated for the punishment to take place.
  1. During that time pupil(s) must remove their blazers and underwear before folding them and placing them on the back of a chair.
  1. Pupil(s) will then stand with their backs to the wall under the window to await the arrival of the Headmistress.
  1. Pupil(s) will only speak if spoken to other than to thank the Headmistress for their punishment when the process is completed.
  1. When the Headmistress is in the Precium the first (or only) pupil to be punished will go to the cupboard and select one of the canes before handing it to the Headmistress.
  1. This pupil will then lift her skirt fully before bending over by positioning her upper body on the table top from the window end. She will then reach out and grip the far edge of the table.
  1. When it is evident that the punishment is complete the pupil will thank the Headmistress before returning to her position by the wall under the window.
  1. This process will then be repeated using the same cane if there is more than one pupil being punished. The last pupil will replace the cane in the cupboard before returning to her position under the window.
  1. Only when the Headmistress has left the Precium can pupil(s) replace their blazers and underwear before departing.
  1. Any pupil caught lingering outside the Precium without good cause during a punishment will also be caned.

Jenny and I were caught smoking by our junior Biology teacher after games on a Tuesday afternoon. Miss Jones was only a few years older than us and although she said that she would be reporting us to Mrs Gill, we held out hopes that she would let us off. After all, we were adults doing something that wasn’t harming others and Miss Jones would have known that we would be in for a caning. However, at the end of morning assembly on the following day, Mrs Gill asked Jenny and me to see her in her study directly after the end of assembly. We knew then that we were in serious trouble.

Mrs Gill ‘read the riot act’ to us. She told us that we were arrogant and had displayed a blatant disregard for school rules. She also lectured us on the damage that we were doing to our health and the bad example we were presenting to the younger pupils. We apologised but otherwise didn’t say much as we all knew where this process was heading.

“I’m going to cane you both,” concluded Mrs Gill. “You will each receive six strokes. Jenny, you have been caned before and I will deal with you first. Sally, this will be your first time. Please read the procedure in the back of your school book so that you will know what to do. I will see you in the Precium at 2 o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yes, Mrs Gill,” we replied before filing out of her study.

As we left I could see Jenny’s face looked quite flushed and I noticed her eyes were watery. She seemed genuinely distressed at the prospect of receiving the cane the next day. We quickly found a quiet spot in the corner of the Senior Common Room.

“Oh my God,” she said when we had sat down. “I suppose I knew this would be the outcome but it doesn’t make the prospect any more bearable! And we’ve got a whole day to look forward to it!”

She put her head in her hands and I thought she was about to burst into tears. She didn’t, and simply stared at the floor for what seemed like ages. My mind was racing.

“A couple of days will soon pass,” I ventured in an attempt to cheer her up. There was another long silence. “Which cane are you going to choose for us?” I eventually asked.

This would be Jenny’s ‘privilege’ as she was going first. This subject was much debated amongst the girls who had been caned. Apparently there were four canes in the cupboard. There was a longer cane that nobody thought would be a good idea to choose, which left three canes which were each about a meter long. Predictably, there was a thin whippy cane, a stiff stout cane and one that was somewhere in the middle. Of course it was impossible to be scientific about which one would be ‘best’ and the girls who had been on the receiving end all had different opinions. Some thought the thicker cane had to be the worse, given that it had more weight and therefore greater impact. Others thought the thin cane would be more painful as the force would be concentrated along a narrower area and would be considerably more ‘stingy’. Jenny had opted for the medium cane last time she was in the Precium but it was unclear whether this was the best or worse.

“Unless you object, I think I’m going to go for the thin cane this time,” Jenny replied after a bit of thought.

I certainly didn’t sleep much that night. I kept on turning over in my mind the whole horrible prospect of having to bare my bottom and allow Mrs Gill to give me six painful strokes of the cane. My feelings were a mixture of dread, humiliation, embarrassment and annoyance that I’d managed to put myself in this position. I knew that I would cope with the pain when it came, but it was the wait that was unbearable. The only way that I can explain this is by comparing a trip to the dentist to stubbing your toe on a bed frame. The dentist experience these days is not particularly painful but the worst part is knowing it is coming your way. Stubbing your toe is massively painful at the time but there is no forewarning. On this basis, for me, stubbing your toe beats a trip to the dentist as you don’t have any time anticipating it. However, in my mind, the caning combined the worst aspects of both experiences.

I had agreed to meet Jenny in the Senior Common Room at 1.45pm on the Wednesday, but we didn’t want to linger in front of the other sixth form girls who all knew where we were heading. We only had to descend two flights of stairs and, without delay, we were soon in the Precium comfortably before ten to two. I had never been in this room before and Jenny took on the role of being our leader.

“OK Sally,” she suggested. “We may as well take our blazers and knickers off.”

We both took our blazers off and hung them on the backs of two of the chairs. There was then a moment’s hesitation as we caught each other’s eye. For me, this was quite a big moment. Removing my underwear confirmed I was about to be caned and that the process would require me to expose my bottom to both Jenny and Mrs Gill. I found this prospect embarrassing and I could feel my face turning red.

Jenny sensed my discomfort. “Oh come on, Sally. I’ve seen you naked in the shower before. Showing off your bottom should be the least of your worries!”

We both laughed at this and I was grateful to Jenny for relieving the tension. I put my hands up inside my skirt and with both thumbs in the elastic of my panties I lowered them to my ankles. I stepped out of them, folded them in half and placed them on top of my blazer. Jenny followed my routine straight afterwards and we then took up our positions as required standing with our backs to the wall under the high window.

It’s a distinctly different feeling to not have any underwear in place beneath your skirt. You can feel the air playing on your skin and immediately you feel more vulnerable. But there is also an element of slightly erotic pleasure. My hands went behind me and up my skirt so that I could run them over my naked flesh. My skin felt smooth and silky. I was also, though, acutely aware as to why my bottom was bare. My knickers wouldn’t have provided much protection from the cane but the prospect of what was about to happen to me would have been more bearable had I retained some covering in that area.

We stood in silence for what felt like ages until we heard footsteps in the passage way and the noise of the door into the Precium opening. In walked Mrs Gill dressed in her full academic robes. This, apparently, was normal. She was an elegant woman, probably in her mid forties. I sensed she didn’t really like this whole process but there was no doubt that she was going to see it through in her usual efficient manner. Jenny and I were mindful of the ‘no speaking’ rule and I knew from the accounts of past encounters that it was likely the punishments would be administered in almost total silence.

Jenny was to be caned first and as soon as Mrs Gill was in the room she went to the cupboard to select a cane. There was a rattling noise and, as agreed between us, she handed Mrs Gill the most slender cane on offer. I could see that Jenny’s hand was shaking. Mrs Gill gripped it in her right hand while Jenny took up position at the end of the table with her back directly in front of me. She then hoisted up her skirt and gathered it in both hands to her front, thereby revealing her bare bottom. She then leaned forward and, as prescribed in the rules, lay her top half on the surface of the table and reached out for the far edge. Her legs remained together and her bottom looked lean and tight.

Mrs Gill took up position and lightly tapped Jenny’s bottom a few times. I can’t speak for Jenny, but I was considerably shocked at the severity of the first stroke. Plumb in the centre of her bottom and I was conscious of a cry of anguish from my friend and then the sight of a bright red stripe developing on her flesh. The cane strokes kept on coming and I could see Jenny’s chest heaving up and down as she tried to cope with the mounting pain. By the fourth stroke she was crying out and by the end she was in considerable distress.

At that moment I felt that going second was a distinct disadvantage, particularly as this was my first time. The caning looked bad enough, but seeing Jenny’s distress and knowing that I had to go through it as well was unimaginably hard. Jenny peeled herself off the surface of the table and as she turned to face Mrs Gill I could see that there were tears running down her cheeks. Her skirt fell back into place concealing her bottom adorned with the six neat cane marks.

“Thank you for my caning, Headmistress,” she said in a barely audible voice, before resuming her place next to me by the wall.

I knew not to wait for any prompting. This was my time. I walked the short distance to take up my position at the end of the table. As I raised my skirt I thought about this being the ultimate act of submission. I was an 18 year old adult, yet I was offering up myself for what I was sure would be a very painful experience. As I lay on the on the hard surface of the table, I could feel my hips resting on the edge and my heart was pounding. I gripped the table edge as hard as I could and waited for my punishment to start. I felt the cane tapping on my bottom and then I heard the rush of air around the cane before the first stroke landed.

Immediately I thought that choosing the thin cane must have been a mistake. The stinging pain that it left me with was massive and at that point I found it hard to believe that I could take five more. I had managed to utter no noise after the first stroke and I managed to stay quiet after the second. I began to struggle to contain my emotions as the caning progressed and I was aware that my breathing was becoming louder and more laboured. This was how I was coping with the immense build up of pain in my bottom. The last stroke was the hardest. I had been less vocal than Jenny but, in contrast, I was left sobbing uncontrollably at the end of the process.

I lay on the table for what felt like ages but was probably only half a minute. I wanted to compose myself before addressing Mrs Gill. Nothing was said and I was grateful that I was given the time that I needed to compose myself.

“Thank you for my punishment, Headmistress,” I said in as strong a voice as I could manage, before taking the cane from Mrs Gill. I placed it back in the cupboard alongside the others and then rejoined my friend by the wall. Mrs Gill directed a slight nod of her head towards us and swept out of the room. The whole process had taken little more than five minutes and she hadn’t uttered a single word. I was stunned.

“Come on, let’s have a look at your bottom, Sally.”

Jenny was a little bit ahead of me in terms of recovery. Without thinking, I turned my back to her and raised my skirt again. Gone was any earlier feelings of modesty and I could feel her fingers running over the welts left by the cane. I tried to see the damage for myself by looking over my shoulder but couldn’t really get a good view.

“Wow, that looks really bad, Sally. Quite a mess.” I don’t know whether this was supposed to be comforting but I sensed it was certainly accurate!

“OK, let’s see yours then,” I replied. Jenny lifted her skirt and I was greeted with a similar picture.

“Let’s get out of here,” I suddenly said.

We both retrieved our knickers and replaced them under our skirts, being careful not to allow the elastic to scrape along the surface of our already sore skin. A few minutes later, we were back in the Senior Common Room, hoping to find another quiet corner but actually having to face what felt like a thousand questions from our fellow students. Jenny was happy to show everyone her cane marks but I declined the invitation. I vowed never to put myself in that predicament again, but as I’ve already said, that wasn’t to be. I’m not saying the second time Mrs Gill caned me was any less painful but it was nothing compared to the ordeal of my first time in the Precium.

The End

© Julie Baker 2017   Readers can email Julie at:  julie.baker_cane@mail.com

Her Twitter address is:  @JulieBaker_cane


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