How a girl copes with being caned

By Jane Fairweather

“You aren’t going to do that silly thing with your formulas again, are you?” Stephen Blake said to Stephanie Coldstream on the morning of their mock ‘A’ level in Maths.

“You are not my bloody father!” Stephanie retorted, reflecting to herself that she must be rude and decisive, and not let Stephen tell her what to do. “You are just a friend, not even a boyfriend, and you have no right to tell me what to do. I’d much prefer a good girl friend anyway; you don’t have to worry about kissing them.”

She did not add that she really did know those wretched formulas, but dreaded getting in to the exam and finding it had all vanished from her head, which was why she always scribbled them on her wrist, hopefully under the cover of her blouse sleeve.

“It could mean the cane, or worse,” Stephen continued, still sounding much too fatherly, to Stephanie’s mind.

“I did not get it when Kitty did my Latin and I did her Maths, way back in the Third Form; they don’t like caning girls. I will just get an embarrassing lecture like I did then. Well, and quite possibly a spanking from my Dad, which will hurt, but not impossibly. He doesn’t like really hurting me.”

Stephen found himself wondering, not for the first time, what Stephanie’s long legs and small bottom looked like spread over her father’s knee. Did she keep her knickers on? He would have liked to ask what it was like, but he knew he would be sworn at. Still you could imagine, couldn’t you?

“Mr Felix did make very loud mutterings, when you got told off in front of the class with Kitty, that the cane would be considered if you did anything as serious again.” Stephen pointed out aloud.

“That was a long time ago, so he has probably forgotten. Actually, he said, ‘it would be on the agenda’. I remember that vividly. I didn’t know what agenda meant, so I looked it up in the dictionary. I think he meant he would think about doing it, but probably wouldn’t.”

“Well, no harm in being optimistic!” Stephen said dryly, imagining Stephanie with the palms of her hands on the chair that Mr Felix used on such occasions, and her pretty little bottom stuck right up in the air. Her tie would hang down, he supposed, unless she had her blazer on, but she probably would have been required to remove that; boys always had to take their jacket off. Or would she get it on her hands because she was a girl? Anyway, with luck she would not get caught.

*          *          *

In the exam room, it was bright and sunny and the heating was on full, though the March wind outside was undoubtedly cold. The students were sat in columns of desks. The boys of 4A were sitting in the right hand columns. The small number of Sixth Formers who were doing the Maths paper were in the left column. Since they were arranged alphabetically, this meant that Stephen, having the surname Blake, was sat at the front, unnervingly close to that old dragon, Miss Harris, who was invigilating from the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, only a couple of feet away. Stephen uncomfortably remembered that it was Miss Harris who had realized Stephanie’s improvement in her Latin was quite unbelievable and started the enquiries that had led to Stephanie and Kitty Mason standing at the front of the class being soundly lectured by the head master, and almost being caned. Miss Harris had said quite bluntly in their next Latin lesson that if she had her way the two girls would most certainly have had the cane, and she would have been very happy to administer it, if the headmaster had qualms about beating girls.

The memory made Stephen nervous for Stephanie, who was sat just behind him. Still, he thought, Stephanie was a whizz at Pure Maths and the chances of her needing to look at the illicit formulas on her wrist was low. Was it nerves, the fear that she might forget something, that made her take the risk, or did she just like the thrill of getting away with it? Stephen decided that he really did not know.

“You may turn your papers over and, when you are ready, begin to write,” Miss Harris’s sonorous, rather masculine, voice stated.

There was a shuffle of paper all over the room.

Stephen glanced through the questions and decided it was harder than he expected, but not impossible.

Stephanie, meanwhile, had realized there was a pig of a question that almost certainly nobody else would be able to do, because it required a formula that was hardly ever used. She, in fact, had more or less remembered this out of the way formula, but she eased her sleeve up to check she had got it, only to realize that because she was not expecting to have to use it, the wretched thing was hidden under her blouse sleeve and she would have to undo the button at her left wrist. However, with Miss Harris sitting there glaring round the room, it seemed just that bit too risky. Still, she would come to it later when she had done some easier things. Perhaps, by that time, she would remember it anyway and not need to look.

If she could do it, then it might make the difference between coming top and being edged out by Stephen, who was almost as good as she was. She liked Stephen, but for that very reason she was always keen to beat him in exams; you would not want the dear boy getting too full of himself, would you? Much, she thought, as she would get round to kissing him when she was ready and not before. She was not at all sure about kissing Stephen. Sometimes, she thought, kissing Miss Dobbs, the red-haired games mistress, would be more interesting; but that was silly. Miss Dobbs and she were old enemies. She had been sworn at endlessly for her lack of ability in games.

The exam proceeded and both Stephanie and Steven made very reasonable progress. Stephen, to his annoyance however, stalled on precisely that awkward question which was troubling Stephanie, and went on to another, intending to come back.

Stephanie started it, got so far, and then realized she could not quite remember the formula. She was not going to chance being beaten by Stephen, so she decided to risk undoing the button on her sleeve. Annoyingly, the button stuck. She reluctantly started the final question, which she completed quite easily and quickly. Oh what the hell! She started to fiddle with the button again, which was infuriatingly difficult to undo.

“Stephanie Coldstream, why on earth do you keep fiddling with your blouse? Are you too hot?” she heard a low whisper.

She suddenly realized that Miss Harris was looming above her and she had got so annoyed with the button that she had taken her eye off the invigilator, who must have moved up rather quickly and silently for a woman of Miss Harris’s proportions.

“Yes Miss, I am too hot and I wanted to undo my sleeve, but the button has stuck. I will just leave it. I am sorry if I was distracting anyone. It is my mother, she put a new button on and it must be too big,” Stephanie said, trying to remember to whisper and sound calm and reasonable.

“Don’t be silly, girl, give me your wrist; I will do it for you.”

‘The old cow!’ Thought Stephen, who could just about hear.

‘Oh god, let her not notice anything!’ Thought Stephanie, offering her wrist the other way up to the illicit writing, and hoping desperately.

Unfortunately this left the button at the bottom of the proffered wrist, which made it even harder for Miss Harris to undo. The mistress eventually gave up the attempt and unceremoniously turned the wrist over. Even then it was somewhat of a struggle.

“You should tell your mother to use smaller buttons when she replaces ones that have got lost.” Miss Harris remarked, not unkindly, as the button finally came undone.

“Thank you, Miss,” whispered Stephanie, devoutly hoping that was it.

“Well, after all that ,you might as well turn your sleeve up, Stephanie!” Miss Harris snapped, forgetting to whisper.

Stephanie slowly and deliberately turned her left sleeve up, keeping her wrist pointing down, hoping Miss Harris would forget about it and return to her desk.

Stephen felt immense relief and thought Stephanie had got away with it.

“Well, surely you are going to turn your other sleeve up, you silly chump!” Miss Harris stated in amused irritation.

‘God, let her not look too closely!’ Stephanie prayed, doing as she was commanded and all too well aware that the writing on her left wrist would be visible as she fiddled with the right hand button.

“Stephanie, what is that on your left wrist? Here, let me have a look.” Miss Harris was saying in her normal voice, and a loud normal voice at that.

Stephen shuddered. Stephanie blushed furiously as she felt her left wrist being seized and examined.

“I think this is a matter for the headmaster, Miss Coldstream. You will go to him immediately. And perhaps you would be kind enough to remind him that you were promised the cane if you were ever caught cheating again after that lamentable episode in the Third Form. And don’t forget to mention any of that. I shall be telling him the whole grisly story as soon as I am free to do so. Now get off with you.”

Stephen thought it was to Stephanie’s credit that she did not plead at all and all he heard was the noise of her chair as she got up. He felt both a desire to cry for what was coming to her and real anger that she could be so unnecessarily plain stupid.

*          *          *

Stephanie sidled nervously up to the headmaster’s door. A boy from the Fourth or Fifth form was waiting. It was obvious, from the nervous look on his face, that he was going to get the cane, probably for the first time, since she suspected that if he had it before he would not look quite so agonised; and clearly he did not want to talk.

It was scarcely the first time she had been there outside that door, but it was only the second time that she had been there to be disciplined. She remembered the conversation on that first occasion all too vividly. Miss Harris had been so keen that she and Kitty should be caned.

“You would not even think about not using the cane with a boy who did this.” She vividly remembered Miss Harris declaring ferociously.

And Mr Felix had almost succumbed. A small but very swishy cane had emerged from its hiding place. She had shivered a little and wondered if it really was going to be worse than the couple of very well-deserved spankings she had endured from her father. Kitty, who had never been punished in her life, had burst into hysterical tears and pleaded desperately.

Possibly that had helped; the headmaster had swished the loathsome thing about a bit and finally said: “If either of you ever do anything as silly as this again you will have two strokes on each hand with this very painful implement. However, I don’t like caning girls unless it is absolutely necessary, so on this occasion we will settle for you both being formally lectured in front of your class. However, tempt me again at your peril, young ladies. The cane has not left the agenda for girls at this school; we just don’t use it that often.”

With luck, Mr Felix would have forgotten that pronouncement, Stephanie thought wryly to herself, but Miss Harris was not going to let it be forgotten, was she?

The door opened and Mr Clouting, the head of History, came out and departed with barely a glance at the unknown boy and Stephanie.

There was a brief pause and the boy was being ushered in. Whatever was involved did not take long. After what sounded like a brief lecture, there were three loud yelps mixed with a rather quieter noise, three times, which was presumably the cane. The boy emerged clutching his bottom and crying and staggered down the corridor. She found herself being ushered in. She felt decidedly shaky.

“How nice to see you, Stephanie!” Mr Felix observed with a genial smile. “It makes a change from caning a boy who is stupid enough to flick a paper pellet at Mr Johnson and get caught. What can I do for you?”

Then he added: “Stephanie, you look very down; whatever is the matter?”

Stephanie gritted her teeth and decided that between he own very real guilt, and Miss Harris on the way to tell her no doubt extreme version of what had happened, she had better own up, even though she knew she was for it.

“I am sorry, Sir,” she stated. “But I was not quite sure of all my formulas for the Pure Maths today, and I wrote them on my wrist, which I know I should not have done, though in fact I only needed to look once. Anyway, the time I did need to look, or thought I did, I think I knew it really, I could not unbutton the sleeve of my blouse. My mother had put a new button on recently and it was too big, really. Anyway, Miss Harris saw it and came and helped me with the button; and of course she saw the formulas and sent me to you for the cane, Sir. Well, at least she said I must remind you what you said when Kitty and I were caught cheating that time in the Third Form.”

Rather to her surprise she realized Mr Felix was trying very hard not to laugh.

However, after brief moment, the headmaster’s face’s face turned much more serious and he said: “You do realize, don’t you Stephanie, that if this had happened in the actual ‘A’ Level, you would probably have been banned from all your exams. I don’t know exactly what would happen, I have not looked up the regulations recently, but it would certainly have extremely serious consequences. And it is all the more ridiculous because I am quite sure you know those formulas better than most, and you have such a promising life ahead of you. Maths is a very good thing to be into, and you are exceptionally good at it. However, I am not sure that I can find room here for a senior student who cheats in an exam, however likeable and pleasant that person is.”

There was an awkward pause while the grey-haired headmaster drummed with his fingers on his desk, and Stephanie stood and shivered, fairly sure that she was going to be asked to leave the school and dreading what her parents would say.

“I am very sorry indeed, Sir.” She suddenly burst out, desperate to break the silence. “I really won’t do it again and I will take whatever punishment you choose to give me, but please don’t expel me. I would be so ashamed, and so would my parents.”

“The odd thing is, the exam board are talking of letting students bring formulas into the exam, possibly next year, or the year after.” Mr Felix muttered, almost to himself, as if suddenly remembering.

“Yes Sir?” Stephanie asked, wondering where on earth this was leading.

“It does make me think there are greater crimes, but equally you should not have done this, Miss Coldstream, should you?”

“No, Sir, I shouldn’t have done it and I really am extremely sorry.”

“Perhaps Miss Harris is right to tell you to remind me of my threat of all of five years ago, which I must confess I would have otherwise forgotten about. Perhaps the cane would be the best solution, though to say the least it is unorthodox. But this is not a Third Former being naughty, this is a senior girl behaving extremely badly and must be dealt with accordingly. Will you take three strokes of the cane on each hand?”

Stephanie gulped and thought for a second, realizing this was going to make one of her father’s spankings seem mild.

“If you do it hard on my hands, will I be able to write?” She asked, really not sure of the answer.

“Probably not,” the headmaster replied. “And you are in the middle of exams. And there are people who say that a hard caning on the hands verges on the dangerous and can break bones. But I am not sure that it is quite proper for a man to cane a girl’s bottom.”

“I really don’t mind, provided we can get it over with.” Stephanie stated firmly.

In the ensuing pause, she found herself pondering if she should mention the fact that she had her bare bottom smacked only six months ago for lying about smoking, which she did not mind at all, but she suspected that her headmaster might well get worked up about it, and she did not want to get her parents into trouble. Then she realized the headmaster was muttering to himself again.

“At my mother’s surprisingly strict school of many years ago, they used to remove their gymslips and bend over and take six of the best, or more, on their school knickers, which they don’t seem to have minded that much. Apparently, my mother and my aunt were scamps and were always getting it. But it was a woman who was administering it, of course, and it was a private school with pretty well only the rules the proprietor cared to make. Anyway, I doubt if any of the women in this school would care to do it. Most of them went to schools where girls were never caned, or very rarely.”

“If it is going to be done, you will have to do it, Sir.” Stephanie cut into the monologue, desperately trying to bring some direction to this ridiculous conversation.

“Well, I suppose we can ask Miss Dobbs. With all her tennis skills, she should make a decent job of it, but whether she will do it, I really don’t know.” The headmaster continued, rather as if Stephanie had not spoken.

Stephanie shivered as she realized that a caning from Miss Dobbs, the very well built, red-haired games mistress, would hurt a lot. Then she thought that if she had to be caned she rather liked the idea of Miss Dodds doing it, which was irrational, for Miss Dodds had always had it in for her, and would not have the slightest hesitation in giving her a real hiding. So, why did she find the idea attractive? She must have got a marble loose, she decided, laughing at herself rather shakily. However, the headmaster had lifted the receiver on the internal phone on his desk, and was dialling.

The phone rang for a while, and Stephanie kept hoping that Miss Dobbs would not be there and her punishment would be administered by the headmaster, which she would much prefer from any rational point of view, because he would keep the whole thing within sensible bounds. Yet something told her that being caned by Miss Dobbs would have a certain excitement. Not like being kissed by said games mistress, but almost as good.

But why was she thinking so nonsensically? She had never got on with Miss Dobbs, who tended to only favour games players and snarl at everyone else, not least herself, who had never thrown or hit a ball in a straight line in her life. And yet she always found something quite stunning about that fierce red hair and that cat-like lope. There was something about Miss Dobbs that made her rather wish they could be friends, but it was ridiculously unlikely to happen.

However, now the phone was being answered and, rather to Stephanie’s horror, Miss Dobbs, far from being reluctant, was sounding extremely eager to do it.

“Yes, I agree, four o’clock after school would be the best time. Much less embarrassing for her and for you. We will keep it as quiet as we can, though it will have to go in the punishment book, of course. Thank you, Miss Dobbs, this will be remembered to your credit.”

The headmaster put down the phone and, looking relieved, said: “Right, that is settled. You will go to the girls’ gym at four o’clock. There are no practices or anything this evening, so you and Miss Dobbs will have the place to yourselves. In the changing room you will remove any slips you have on, together with your stockings, and go to your punishment wearing skirt and pants. That is because the governors’ rules for corporal punishment state there must be two layers of clothing for canings on the bottom. Do we understand one another, Miss Coldstream?”

“Yes, I think so, Sir. I go to the gym at four o’clock and make sure I only have skirt and pants on, and Miss Dobbs will give me the cane.”

“Correct, Stephanie! And do make sure you are on time; you have a horrible habit of being slightly, infuriatingly late, which will not please Miss Dobbs, who always strikes me as a stickler. Do you want me to ring your parents, seeing how unusual all this is, and get their permission for you to be punished like this?”

“I would much rather not, Sir. I would much rather they did not know.’’ Stephanie said, thinking with horror of the agony of a hard spanking on top of six of the best.

“We will keep it between ourselves and Miss Dobbs, then,” the headmaster replied decisively, and showed Stephanie the door.

*          *          *

Not twenty yards down the corridor, she met Miss Harris, who was looking oddly concerned.

“How are you, Stephanie? You have not been expelled, have you? I was hoping to push Mr Felix in the direction of the cane, and you don’t look to me as if you have had it.”

Stephanie thought frantically. She really did not want anyone to know about her punishment; it was too embarrassing for words.

“Thank you for asking, Miss Harris. I got a real old lecture and I have to go to Miss Dobbs for a detention by myself after school. I am going to have to write out ‘I must not cheat in exams’ for an hour none-stop, which will drive me nuts.”

“Unusually imaginative of the Headmaster!” Miss Harris remarked. “Well, I am glad you did not get expelled, Stephanie, and I am half glad you did not get the cane, though I think you deserved it. Still, this is rather a good punishment and one you will remember for a long time, especially as you will have to wait for it to happen.”

Miss Harris rather obviously reversed direction from the Headmaster’s stuy and walked in the opposite direction to Stephanie.

Stephanie reflected there were all of three hours till four o’clock and the interesting question of how much six of the best hurt, and she was not going to enjoy the waiting.

And at what point was she going to remove her slip and half slip? She really did not want to do that while Miss Dobbs was hovering. Perhaps in the loo at afternoon break, but someone might notice. Perhaps better wait till end of school at quarter to four and dive into the loo on the way to the gym and her punishment. And yet, did she object to Miss Dobbs watching her undress? Normally she hated anyone watching her, but some perverse instinct made her think she would quite like Miss Dobbs to watch her while there was no one else there. She decided something in her was being very silly today. It was probably because of the shock of knowing she was going to be caned.

*          *          *

It was past ten to four and there was a real risk she was going to be late for her appointment on the other side of the school grounds. And she had not found time to change, which meant she might well have to put up with Miss Dobbs watching her, assuming she minded Miss Dobbs watching, which she found all very confusing.

“Are you alright?” Stephen was saying. “You haven’t said much about what happened. You didn’t get whacked, did you?”

He seemed to Stephanie to have gone on for at least five minutes longer than he should have done, and he was making her late for her punishment, though he meant well enough, she kept telling herself.

“No, I have told you! I didn’t get whacked. I got a real old telling-off and now I have got to go to the gym of all places and be supervised by Miss Dobbs while I write out nonstop for an hour, ‘I must not cheat in exams’. And I am getting late and she will kill me if I am a minute after four o’clock.”

“Why the gym?” Stephen asked curiously.

“Some stupid idea of Felix’s. He said less people would know about it if I did my detention there.”

“I suppose so. Look, I will hang around for you. There is a bus we can catch at five-fifteen.”

“You most certainly won’t! It’s going to be a horrible punishment and I will be in a dreadful mood after. No company at all. Go home and I will make it up to you on Monday. The parents want me to do things all weekend. Promise!”

She did not add that if Stephen saw her in the couple of days after her comeuppance, there was a fair chance that he would work out what had happened and she did not want that. And if she took herself out of the house a lot on Saturday and Sunday, there was a fair chance her parents would not work it out either. But she felt very uneasy about her parents. If they did realize what had happened, she would get another hiding, and in her view one good hiding, even a thoroughly deserved one, was quite enough.

“But…” Stephen began, but Stephanie startled him by giving him a gentle peck on his cheek and then rushing off, satchel swinging, before he could say any more. It was, he reflected, the first time he had anything approaching a kiss from Stephanie.

*          *          *

She got to the gym, out of breath and in a panic, because she was at least a minute late. She flung open the door into the small vestibule to be confronted by an annoyed Miss Dobbs standing there in her brown tracksuit with a large cane in her hand, glaring at her watch from under her lovely red hair.

“Really, Stephanie, another minute and we would have been talking about extra strokes. You haven’t taken any clothes off either, have you? You have still got your stockings on! Get yourself into the changing room and get changed quickly. I have not got all evening.”

Stephanie scrambled into the changing room followed, to her annoyance, by Miss Dobbs. She hung up her satchel and took off her grey skirt and white half slip. Then she removed her blazer, took off her green striped tie and began to remove her yellow blouse. Her fingers were sweaty and she fumbled with the buttons, but she could more or less undo them till she got to that wretched sleeve again.

“Would you mind just undoing that silly button for me, Miss? It really takes two hands.”

“That was what got you into such trouble in the first place, I hear,” said Miss Dobbs dryly. “There are various versions of this strange event floating round the school, though curiously none of them seem to include the fact you are about to have a very sore bottom. Miss Harris informed me in all seriousness that you are having a detention with me, but I did not disillusion her Oh well, little does she know. Perhaps it is better if this stays between ourselves and the headmaster. Anyway, there we are, Stephanie. Now, perhaps you would be kind enough to complete your undressing and dressing. I really thought you might have had the sense to do this before. It would have been less embarrassing for both of us.”

Stephanie restrained herself from saying that the silly cow did not have to watch, and took off her blouse with a distinct shiver. Somehow, it seemed to bring it home to her that her punishment was really going to happen, and she began to have violent butterflies in stomach. Then she took off her green nylon slip.

“That suspender belt is really quite attractive. I would not mind that myself.” Miss Dobbs remarked, rather unnecessarily in her victim’s view.

Anne Dobbs in fact was thinking to herself, not for the first time, what a beautifully shaped bottom Stephanie had, and the girl’s whole body was like a Greek sculpture! She had only mentioned the suspender belt because it excused her from admitting she was gazing far too much at that glorious behind. However, what troubled Stephanie was the distinct feeling that that her bottom was being assessed to see how best to cane it. She hurriedly turned round and unhooked her stockings from the suspender belt before sitting down and sliding them down, one leg at a time. She remembered at the last minute to take her shoes off.

“And the suspender belt, otherwise it will only get in the way.” Miss Dobbs said very firmly.

Stephanie complied, and then put her pleated skirt back on with considerable relief, followed by her blouse.

“I don’t think we will bother with that button,” said Miss Dobbs as Stephanie did up her other sleeve. “But perhaps it would be appropriate to put your tie back on.”

Stephanie complied rather awkwardly, and Miss Dobbs got fed up with her fumbling and completed the operation. Stephanie wondered if the gym mistress could feel the way her heart was pounding.

Then Miss Dobbs seemed to stand back and both of them paused rather self-consciously and looked at one another as if not quite sure what to do next.

“I had the cane twice from my father, so I know what it is like, but I have never caned anyone before.” Miss Dobbs said awkwardly. “Come on! We had better get it over with.”

Stephanie realized a firm hand was grasping her right arm and marching her out of the changing room into the gym. Somehow, she preferred not to protest about being grasped so tightly. If she once started making a fuss, she might not stop and then she would be back to being expelled.

“What did you get the cane for, Miss?” She asked as conversationally as she could, wondering what the gym mistress would look like bent over for the cane; there was something rather interesting about the red head’s bottom.

Anything, she thought, to take her mind off what was about to happen.

“Oh, once for petty pilfering from a neighbour, and once for scragging my younger brother. Both times it was very well deserved. I got four the first time on the seat of my winter knickers and six the second time with slacks and a pair of cotton pants on. The second time hurt a lot; the first was not quite so bad. Now, young lady, put your hands on the beam and stick your bottom out. If you make any fuss it will be back to Mr Felix to be expelled; he was extremely clear about that.”

The beam had been set up as low as it would go. Stephanie leaned forward and gripped it hard. She realized that her bottom was stuck up horribly high in the air and she felt intensely embarrassed. She also realized that it was going to be very difficult to stand up from this position. Miss Dobbs might not have caned anyone before, but she knew exactly what she was doing. Stephanie wondered if Miss Dobbs had practiced the punishment before-hand.

“Right, young lady, you are going to have six strokes. There will be a pause between each one, so don’t panic and think it is over, like I did the first time I was caned. I will tell you when it is over. You will count each stroke as it happens. Do we understand one another?”

“Yes, Miss Dobbs. I am sorry, Miss Dobbs.” Stephanie replied rather pathetically, realizing tears were already coursing down her cheeks.

The only answer was a ferocious swish of the cane, which sliced through her skirt and in to the top of her thighs, and she yelped quite loudly. She hoped devoutly she had not yelled as loudly as the poor boy she had heard being caned earlier on; he really had made rather a fuss.

Oh, she was supposed to count, wasn’t she? God, that had stung, and it was only the first one.

“One stroke,” she stuttered through her tears.

The second was right in the middle of her bottom, and delivered with the timing you would expect of a County tennis player who had ambitions considerably beyond that. It seemed to Stephanie to go through her skirt and cotton pants as if they were not there; and there was a huge wave of pain.

“Yee-ow, ow, ow,” she let out, realizing she was lifting both her legs up and twisting wildly, and it was just as well she had the beam to hang on to.

“How many strokes is that, Stephanie?” Came Miss Dobbs’ voice from a very long way off.

“Two strokes, Miss.”

“Right, are you ready for the third?”

This was in fact administered before the victim could reply, and struck the underside of Stephanie’s behind quite viciously. She started kicking wildly and shrieking nonstop. Something made her hang on to the beam as the only thing that was stopping her falling flat on her face. She realized she could feel large welts rising on her bottom. She also felt extremely giddy.

“Now calm down, Stephanie. We’ve got three more to get through and I am not going to let you off, even though I am enjoying this about as little as you are. Pause and take a breath, girl.”

Something in Stephanie’s brain obeyed. She took the breath and managed to stop shrieking and kicking.

“Th-three, M-miss.” She managed to stammer.

The fourth and fifth strokes were just as hard, but higher up on the bottom, and did not hurt quite so much. Stephanie just about managed to count, through her yells and tears.

“Right, are you ready for the last one? This is going to be severe.”

“Yes, Miss.”

There did not seem anything else to say. It surely could not be worse than what had come before, but it was horrible. It lashed into the same area in the middle of the buttocks that the second stroke had hurt so much, partially crossing the second stroke, and seemed to hurt unbearably, and she yelled at the top of her voice for what seemed a long time, though it was probably only a minute or a little more.

“You can stand up,” Miss Dobbs said, rather gently taking an arm and helping Stephanie to her feet. “You really don’t know what’s hit you when you are caned, especially the first time. Come on, you will feel better in a little while.”

She staggered out of the changing room on Miss Dobbs’ arm and collapsed in the armchair in the gym mistress’s private room, trying to sit on her side rather than her bottom, and cursing both the aching and the sense of being on fire.

I know I thoroughly deserved that, but god it hurt.” Stephanie observed when she had recovered a little. “I don’t think I will ever do anything quite so stupid ever again.”

“You really are in a state.” Miss Dobbs suddenly observed. “Look, I think a shower would help. I will run it for you till it is warm.”

‘Why should I need a shower?’ Stephanie thought to herself, but she was quite relieved when the gym mistress returned and led her by the hand into the changing room. Nor did she object when she found herself being helped out of her clothes and into the shower, which was reasonably warm.

“Do you want me to put the soap on? I am sure it will help,” Miss Dobbs was asking as Stephanie rotated herself, trying to get the warm soothing water onto her bottom and the top of her thighs.

“No! I can do it.” Said Stephanie determinedly.

“Good! You must be feeling a bit better.” Said Miss Dobbs with a relieved grin, and she retired to her room again.

She was slightly startled to suddenly find a still-naked Stephanie standing in her doorway with the water dripping off her.

“Oh, I forgot to give you a towel, didn’t I?” She said and reached in a drawer in the chest of drawers that occupied one corner of the room.

“It is not just that, Miss Dobbs. I was wondering if you had a mirror.”

“Oh, I see! My brothers and I did that after we were caned for theft.” Miss Dobbs found herself chuckling.

She handed over the towel and while Stephanie started to dab herself with it, she hunted for the hand mirror in her handbag.

“Can you hold it for me, Miss?”

Miss Dobbs complied.

“Miss, you really know how to whack someone. Maybe you should do it more often. The girls don’t get enough discipline at this school.”

“I doubt if there will be many more such whackings; the head does not really believe in it.” Miss Dobbs replied, just a touch wistfully. “Anyway, hurry up and get dressed, and I will give you a lift home, if you want it.”

Even as she said this, Anne Dobbs realized there was something about this girl whose glorious behind she just been obliged to lacerate so severely. It was not just that the girl was naked, for she saw naked girls in the shower every day of the week.

“For goodness sake, get dressed!” She said very firmly aloud, trying to put these thoughts out of her head.

“Miss,” The girl said. “I could be in real trouble at home if my parents work out what has happened, and I don’t want my boyfriend to know about it either. I know it is an awful lot to ask, but could I sleep at your flat? Just for this weekend. I don’t mind a sofa or the floor. I will just tell my parents I am staying at my boyfriend’s.”

As she said this, it occurred to Stephanie that she had never called Stephen her boyfriend before.

“Well, if you are going to stay at my flat you had better call me Anne, I suppose.” The gym mistress responded more gruffly than she really intended. “But I think you should tell your parents where you are.”

She found herself being embraced and kissed by a still moderately wet Stephanie, and found herself responding more than she should have done. It was an interesting moment that neither of them had been intending.

And so it happened. Stephanie started having an increasing number of weekends with Anne, who her parents looked on as a solid, good influence, little knowing the things that happened during those weekends. And they were pleased, four years after university, when she married the boyfriend that she always called ‘Stephen 3’ to herself, though his name was not Stephen, but William. And every third or fourth weekend after her marriage, Stephanie went and visited her best friend, Anne Dobbs, by herself and did some interesting things of a sort that Stephen 3 would not have been interested in at all, which was a very convenient arrangement that suited all three of them very well.

The End

© Jane Fairweather 2019

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