With one sister in trouble, the other tries to help

By Robert Roberts

“Headmistress. I have a phone call for you from a Carol Peters. Can you take it?”

“Carol Peters?” thought the Headmistress to herself. “Ah, yes. Carol Peters. Put her through, please.” The Headmistress remembered that Carol was a sixth former who left the Florence Nightingale School for Girls some five years previously.

“Hello Carol. How are you?”

“Hello Headmistress. Thanks for agreeing to speak to me.”

“My pleasure, Carol. Always pleased to hear from former pupils, and I’ve just twigged why you might be ringing. Your lovely sister, Elizabeth, is due to see me on Monday morning for a caning.”

“That’s right, Headmistress.”

“Look Carol. Before you ask, I really can’t do anything about that.”

“No Headmistress. I wouldn’t expect any leniency. Lizzie doesn’t either. Why I am ringing, and I would understand if you refuse, would it be possible if I came with Lizzie to give her moral support? She is distraught. She was worrying and crying all last night and I don’t know how she managed school today. The weekend is going to be awful.”

Joanne Scott, the Headmistress, thought for a couple of seconds.

“Carol. I don’t see a problem. We’ve had the situation where chaperones and witnesses have been in attendance at canings and slipperings before. So, yes. You will be welcome.”
“Thank you so much, Miss. I’ve never seen my sister quite like this. She is usually an exuberant girl but the thought of this caning is scaring her to death and has shamed her and sapped her confidence.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Carol. Explain to her that I’m not going to be hostile towards her and between us we’ll get her through it. She should be nervous but not terrified.”

“Just as I remember you, Headmistress. Firm but kind. What time should we show up on Monday?”

“First of all Carol. I’m no longer your Headmistress. Please call me Joanne. I usually carry out the canings after morning assembly. Just looking at my diary, I have two other canings on Monday. High jinks in the refectory. Food being thrown. These girls are getting two strokes each so we’ll get them out the way and then I can attend to Elizabeth. You’re welcome to come to assembly if you want. We are always pleased to see former pupils.”
Carol was just about to decline the offer of assembly when Joanne spoke again.
“I’ve just thought. It’s an idea. I’m in school tomorrow morning working on the timetable for next year and the school will be open for some Saturday sporting events. If you want to bring Elizabeth along at, say, 9 o’clock, I could cane her and it would be more private. It would give her a sore bottom for the weekend but she wouldn’t have to put herself through another two days of worry.”

“That would be ideal, Headmistress, I mean, Joanne. It would also save me taking two hours off work on Monday morning. Thank you.”

“Right. I’ll see you both tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock sharp. It will be good to see you again even if the circumstances are not as we would wish. And for Heaven’s sake tell Elizabeth I don’t want her to overthink this. The caning will be enough punishment. She shouldn’t be putting herself through extra angst.”

“Thank you once again, Joanne. See you tomorrow morning.”
On Saturday morning, at the Peter’s household, Carol shouted to her mum who was upstairs. “We’re off now, Mum.”

Mrs Peters came down the stairs and hugged Lizzie.

“You are a silly girl. But remember, Mummy loves you. She doesn’t want to see her baby get hurt, but you are getting what you deserve.”

“Thanks a lot, Mum. We’ll see how much you love me when you whack me after the Headmistress has finished with me.”

Mrs Peters replied, “You know the rules of this household. I am committed to supporting the school when it comes to your education.”

“Your rules, Mum. Not the household rules. I haven’t agreed. Tommy hasn’t agreed.”

Carol intervened. “OK, OK. Not now.”

As they went through the front door to get into Carol’s car, Tommy didn’t help matters by calling out to his sister, “I want to look at those big red stripes on your bum when you get home.”

Lizzie burst into tears.

“For Christ’s sake, Tommy!” yelled Carol, but before she could say anymore Mrs Peters yanked Tommy inside and closed the door.

“Will my caning hurt more than one of Mum’s spankings?” asked the beleaguered Lizzie.

“Yes, it will, but you’ll get over it just like you get over Mum’s spankings.”

Lizzie nodded and continued to probe.

“Will it hurt as much as that time Dad thrashed you with his belt? I was only small but I remember very clearly. You were crying out with each thwack and you sobbed for ages. When he’d finished with you I sneaked into your room and got into bed with you and put my arms around you.”

“It’s not worth trying to compare. And I do remember when you crawled into bed with me. You were there for me then and I’m here for you now.”

“If Mum whacks me after this caning I will leave home and go and live with Grandma.”

“Stop, stop, stop! Lizzie. Let’s just take one step at a time. What you’ve got to understand is that when we lost Dad, Mum felt she had got to take control and be strong.”

Carol led the way up the stairs to the Headmistress’s office. Nothing had changed since the last time she had reason to visit the Headmistress six years ago in the final days of her schooling. The door was ajar. Carol politely knocked and put her head round the door. Joanne looked up from her desk and, with a big welcoming smile, reached out to Carol who went to shake her hand, but instead Joanne grabbed her and gave her a hug.

Pleasantries were exchanged for a few seconds before the Headmistress turned her attention to Lizzie.

“Good morning, young lady. I can see you have been crying and you look anxious, so let’s get this over with and put you out of your misery. I’m not going to lecture you. My cane will do the talking. Truancy is a very serious offence and the mandatory punishment is six strokes of the cane. But I want you to understand that after the punishment has been carried out that will be an end to it. No further recriminations unless you are stupid enough to repeat the offence. Any questions?”

Lizzie couldn’t stop the tears welling up as she shook her head and gripped her sister’s hand.

“Your mother must be very disappointed with you.”

“Oh, she is,” replied Carol. “We’ve got to try and persuade her not to give Lizzie a spanking on top of your caning.”

“That would be very painful,” said the Headmistress, almost sympathetically.

“Elizabeth. I’m going to give you six medium strength strokes of the cane on your bottom over your knickers. I don’t give extra strokes if you jump up but it would be in your best interests if you could stay in position because I work to a rhythm so that I can accurately place each stroke, and if you break my rhythm I’m likely to land on an area that I’ve already hit. That would be doubly painful.”

Carol said, “You’ve changed, Miss. I remember coming to you for six and ending up with you giving me eight because I kept jumping about.”

“Did I really?” mused the Headmistress. “I’ve mellowed. Six is enough for any girl.”

Lizzie quizzically looked at her big sister. “I didn’t know that.”

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

“OK then. Shall we get started? Elizabeth. I want you to step up to my desk and bend over. I don’t think you are quite tall enough to be able to grip the other side of the desk, so perhaps you could rest your elbows on the desktop and look forward. I’m going to put this cushion between you and the edge of the desk, partly for your comfort but also it will position your bottom correctly to receive the cane.”

Lizzie took up the position as instructed by her headmistress. Carol then spoke.

“Headmistress. Would it be all right if I went round the other side of the desk and held Lizzie’s hands?”

“Yes, of course. It might help her to maintain her position. Elizabeth, I will be delivering a stroke steadily every few seconds and so your ordeal will be over within a minute. Just try and stay in position.

And so, with everyone in position, the punishment began. The Headmistress lifted Lizzie’s dress and tucked it in to avoid it flopping down over her bottom, and then delivered the strokes just as she said she would. Medium strength, every six seconds and accurately spaced out over Lizzie’s bottom.

The first stroke had Lizzie wincing.

On the second stroke, her pretty face contorted with pain.

Third stroke; she exhaled deeply and lowered her head. Carol whispered words of encouragement.

Fourth stroke, and the tears began to roll down her cheeks. She held on tightly to Carol.

Fifth stroke, she softly cried, “Mummy,” but not quietly enough for the Headmistress and Carol not to hear.

‘Did she say Mummy?’ thought the Headmistress to herself. ‘Bless.’

Sixth stroke came in a little bit harder, which made Lizzie yelp. It was the first audible cry of pain that Lizzie had uttered.

The headmistress wanted to hear a reaction but then told herself that the extra hard last stroke was unfair.

“All over, Elizabeth. Get yourself up in your own time. I’m going to send you home with a letter to your mother suggesting that you have received sufficient punishment.”

Back home, Lizzie lay face down on her bed. Carol gently massaged cool, soothing cream into her wounded buttocks.

“Oh that is so wonderful,” purred Lizzie. “Don’t stop.”

“I must congratulate Joanne on her accuracy. Each one of these six welts is perfectly placed,” observed Carol.

“Get you and first name terms. She’s Bitch to me,” responded Lizzie.

Carol playfully squeezed one of the welts causing a shot of extra pain to her sister’s bottom.

“Respect, Lizzie. Respect.”

Tommy stood at the door. “Are you OK, Lizzie?” He asked in a slightly worried voice.

“I’m still alive,” replied Lizzie.

Tommy took a step further inside the bedroom. “Can I have a look?”

Carol said, “Tommy, go away. Lizzie is OK.”

“Let him have a look,” said Lizzie with some resignation.

Tommy moved closer. “Wow! Look at that. Was she squealing, Carol?”

“She took it brilliantly. I’m proud of her”

“Can I touch?” asked Tommy.

“Noooooo!” responded Lizzie.

Carol said, “Tommy. Make yourself useful and get an ice pack from the fridge.”

A very painful lesson learned. Truancy was never going to figure in Lizzie’s school life ever again.

The End

© Robert Roberts 2020