by Susan Thomas
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He whipped the cane through the air and the sound electrified me. The swish sent me into a strange place where I imagined bending over, my skirt pulled tightly against my bottom. The cane would swish venomously and now hit my bottom. I tried to imagine how it would feel.
I shook my head and found he was looking intently at my face, a sardonic smile on his.
“Would you like to try receiving a few? You could bend over that chair. A few strokes to find out what it feels like?”
“Tradition is a guide and not a jailer.” (W. Somerset Maugham)
Sarah walked down the corridor towards the headmaster’s office. She had been summoned and it was making her very nervous, for she had a fairly good idea why.
St Amelia’s Academy was not unique in having a male head but it was unique in that it had a one hundred year old tradition of only appointing men to head up the predominantly female establishment. It was also not unique in having a headmaster that caned the girls, though that was by no means common, but St Amelia’s headmaster used corporal punishment on any girl from the youngest right through to the senior girls in the upper sixth. It didn’t matter if a girl was already nineteen and had just one week to go before leaving; if she had done something wrong she could still be caned. Sarah and all the girls were proud of the school and its traditions, proud of the caning tradition that made them the equal of the boys at their brother school five miles away.
Alice was in the Upper Sixth and also Senior Prefect at The Rectory School for Girls. She had been a prefect last year when Melissa was Head Girl and really worshipped her, hoped to copy her and be Head Girl. It was not to be; there were three outstanding candidates and Miss Anderton had difficulty in making a decision. In the end she went on their corporal punishment record. Miss Anderton decided the one with the fewest entries was to be Head Girl, the next was deputy Head Girl, and Alice ended third, Senior Prefect. The three musketeers, as they were often called. Not that she minded much for she was proud of her post and worked very hard at it.
The main corridor of the school was wide with an attractive terrazzo floor that curved up at the side to merge with the walls. Every door was solid oak and polished to a high degree and had a brass plate informing the ignorant what lay beyond. The girl walked down towards the end where the brass plate on the door was marked: “Head Teacher.” She was of medium height with that heart-aching slim attractiveness that some teenage girls have. Her uniform marked her out as a sixth former; the tie was not just the striped version all girls wore but the one with the tiny school badges interspersed among the stripes; her school badge was the special one with the silver and gold thread; and she was wearing the long white socks of the sixth form rather than the long blue ones worn by all other years. The sixth form had not yet won the right to wear stockings.