Revenge might appear sweet at the time but it’s a different matter when a group of girls have to face the consequences.

By Joanna Jones

Jim was walking through the wooded park on his way home from school when he saw Josie, in uniform, dawdling along the path in front of him. He trotted to catch up and, as was his wont, cheekily pinched her bottom as he said hello.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself!” Josie demanded.

“Oh come on, it’s just a bit of fun.” replied Jim with a smirk.

“Look, you may think so, but I do not. I am sick of you pinching and groping at me, and the other girls are sick of it too!”

“Huh! I know you like it really.” Jim replied huffily as his hand seemed to make a line as if he wanted to caress one of her breasts.

Josie avoided the unwanted attention by pushing his hand out the way. “I said stop, Jim! Go away!”

However, as expected Jim did not do so and continued to keep pace with her.

Suddenly Josie took a diversion on a narrow path further into the woods and started to trot to get away.

Jim ignored her demands to leave and continued following her.

After five minutes Jim wondered where she was going as she moved into deeper woodland, and further wondered if his chances of a much more amorous exchange were increasing rapidly. Perhaps she was just playing hard to get.

However, suddenly four girls surrounded him. Before he could react he found himself face down on the ground with two girls sitting on him as the other two, assisted by Josie, tied his arms and legs together.

“What are you doing?” He spluttered loudly as he was immobilised.

He found opening his mouth a mistake as some form of white handkerchief was stuffed into his mouth and, before he could spit it out, was bound into place.

Satisfied their victim was going nowhere, the girls rolled him over.

Looking at their faces, confusion was rapidly being replaced with fear. The looks of contempt he’d never bothered to see before when he’d tried to make his advances were now very clear indeed.

As he struggled futilely against the bindings Josie spoke. “You never learn do you? I am, well we all are, sick of your attempts to “chat us up”. We are sick of having our bottoms pinched, our boobs touched, and as for the times you tried to touch me between the legs….” At that point Josie gave an exaggerated shudder to show her feelings.

Jim struggled to respond but was unable to say anything other than provide a few ineffectual moans.

Mary continued: “And that is to say nothing of your inane comments. We are not just the objects for your desire that you continually seem to allude to and are certainly not always ‘up for it’ as you would put it!”

Sarah then interjected with: “So since you don’t seem to be able to understand our simple English we are going to teach you a lesson which will make it very clear exactly what we think.”

“Come on get him up!” Said Josie.

With that the five girls manhandled the now struggling victim up and half carried, half dragged him further into the woods. After a few minutes they came to a clearing where a large fallen tree lay.

They pushed their victim back to the ground, fortunately dry after some warm early April weather.

Still struggling ineffectually Jim gazed up at his captors, realising belatedly that these girls really did strongly object to his fooling around.

His fear turned to terror when two of the girls walked over a few paces to the side and returned each with a different implement. Josie had a rather long thick cane and Sarah had a thick plank of wood with holes drilled in it. Though Jim did not recognise it, he was looking at an American Paddle that Sarah’s uncle had given her father as a bit of a joke when her elder brother had been born. Though twenty odd years old she knew from experience that a paddling with that was not in any way a joking matter.

He struggled harder as the girls laughed at his futile efforts to free himself.

“Don’t bother!” Said Frances. “Sarah and I have been sailing with our parents for years, and those knots are pretty good.”

Josie pointed the cane at the eighteen year old boy as she asked.: “So, are you ever going to touch my bottom, breasts or anywhere else again?”

Jim desperately shook his head and similarly answered all the other questions about his wandering hands, and his, at times, highly sexist and patronising language.

Eventually the girls had all his promises to reform and Josie said: “Good! So all that remains is to give you a painful reminder!”

Jim gave a final desperate struggle as the girls crowded round him and mercilessly unbuckled his trousers and took down both them and his pants. There followed some puerile comments as they manhandled him over the fallen tree, leaving him with his bare bottom facing up into the cool spring air.

The girls had come prepared and Jim was unable to escape as his feet were tied to a heavy log the girls had struggled to move in position behind him. Then while two girls restrained him, the other three unbound his arms and tied them well apart to a second log the other side of the fallen tree.

It did not take Jim much time to realise that he was thoroughly immobilised in a spread-eagled position that was very, very vulnerable.

“What are we giving him again?” Anne asked nervously. She was the quietest of the five, and the one that had been least comfortable about setting the trap. It had only been in anger after he’d put his hand on her behind with his middle fingers surreptitiously pushing up the skirt material between her legs that she’d finally agreed to join in.

“As we agreed, Anne, six each. Mary and I use the cane, the rest of you the paddle.” Replied Josie, causing another desperate, but futile, struggle from Jim.

“Don’t you think that is a bit much; we don’t want to give him a permanent injury,” replied Anne nervously.

There followed a bit of a debate, the result was that it was agreed only Josie would give him six of the cane given she had been most victimised. The others would limit themselves to four whacks with the paddle, with Mary giving a final four cane strokes ‘to finish Jim off with’.

Josie said to Jim: “You are so lucky Anne is here, if it was up to me I would cane you senseless!”

Jim shivered at the thought.

Then, without further ado, Josie lashed the cane down hard on Jim’s upthrust buttocks, leading to a wild bucking as he struggled against the bindings, and a gargled scream against the gag.

What happened over the next five to ten minutes is best not described in detail. Four girls, each with high levels of adrenaline and anger thrashed the stick and paddle down on his upthust bottom. Only the fifth girl, Anne showed any modicum of restraint, having recently received a paddling with a smaller implement than the one here after mouthing off at her mother once too often and remembering rather too clearly how painful it had been.

At the end Jim was in a mix of exhaustion and shock. His bottom was a mess of bruises from the paddle with little marks from the holes. Superimposed were ten cane stripes, the six from the right handed Josie from the beginning which to his unpunished bottom had been agony, followed by four laid on in the larger gaps left from the original caning by the left handed Mary. Both girls had practiced on a pillow and were very satisfied with the ten weals that were evenly spaced from top to bottom of Jim’s rump.

However, the girls, even Anne now that it was over, were far too exhilarated to care about the damage to Jim’s backside. When finished they cut him loose and ordered him to get his pants and trousers up.

In fear of being put back over the fallen tree, Jim made a grovelling and heartfelt apology as they left him in the clearing to stagger home.

As the girls had fully expected, Jim did not want anyone to know what had happened to him. He recognised belatedly that his actions had been very foolish and that he’d pushed these girls, and others, way too far.

He staggered across the park and stopped at the toilets and washed his face thoroughly then stood in a quiet hidden spot for an hour nearby gently trying to help the pain in his bottom and calm down. Finally he washed his face again before very slowly walking home with the hope that he could hide what had happened from his parents.

It was a forlorn hope. As soon as he came in his mother noted the still red eyes and his slow movements. His inability to sit in any comfort when she told him to was the final giveaway as she realised her son must have been given an exceptionally severe caning at school.

His mother demanded to know what he had done, and became progressively more irritated as her son refused to tell her, demanding in turn he be allowed to go to his room. Eventually she got so angry that Jim was told that whatever he’d done must have been really bad if he would not tell her. She then told him she was therefore going to punish him too, both for getting in trouble at school and for refusing to let her know why.

Jim begged and pleaded that he was now an adult and surely too old for such a punishment. However, his mother was implacable and he eventually agreed to bend for the wooden spoon she was now brandishing, when faced with the alternative of the strap from his father when he got home.

His father invariably strapped bare bottom, whereas at least his mother let him keep his pants on. Praying that his pants covered the bruises and marks he knew must decorate his bottom he reluctantly dropped his trousers and turned round.

The prayer was in vain as the spoon clattered to the floor as his mother looked at the dark marks visible on his upper legs. Before Jim could react she’d pulled his pants down far enough to see the damage on his bottom. He gave a shout of pain as the fabric slid down his exquisitely tender bottom.

“Mr Gibson did this?” She exclaimed disbelievingly. “I am going to call the police!”

“No, Mum, please, no! It wasn’t Mr Gibson. It was some girls.”

Jim’s mother stopped heading to the phone and faced her son. “What do you mean?” She said ominously.

“I, I upset them and they trapped me and c..caned and p..paddled me. It was supposed to be a bit of a joke that went wrong. I don’t want to talk about it.” He said shamefacedly.

It was a half truth that he desperately hoped his mum would not pry too far into as she gave him one of her forensic stares. Finally she glanced at the clock and, grabbing her coat, said: “Whatever the case you need that examined. We are going to the evening surgery.

Jim stood on the bus for the brief trip and stood in the waiting room. Eventually it was his turn. Though it was clear he could have insisted on going himself, his fear of his mother meant that he dare not stop her following him into the doctors’ room.

To his embarrassment he found it was the relatively young female partner in the practice who was on at the emergency surgery.

He stripped behind the screen and lay face down on the bed.

The doctor was appalled at the damage and made it clear that this could only be viewed as a criminal assault. Once again the police were mentioned. Jim finally made it very clear he was an adult and would not countenance reporting the incident, much to his mother’s irritation. However, eventually she accepted her son’s decision, but made it clear that while he may have the right to decide on the police, she still was responsible for him at school, and fully intended to discuss the matter with the headmaster on Monday. The doctor shrugged, took some notes and prescribed some creams. Grudgingly the doctor said whoever the perpetrators were they had at least exhibited enough self control not to cut the skin.

Ironically it was the deeper bruises from the American paddle that probably were the main reason Jim could still barely sit on Monday. However, he was still escorted by his mother to school after a painful weekend lying mostly bare-bottomed on his bed. His parents had kept pushing him to explain what he had done for the girls to react so, and indeed for the names of the girls concerned, but he managed to fob them off with the barest of information.

On Monday, He was forced to turn round by his mother in the Head’s office to show the damage to him.

The Head was indeed shocked. This went well beyond any caning he’d ever given. However, that shock was two-fold as he realised he’d seriously misjudged a situation. He could see trouble for himself as a result, but he’d never been one to duck a difficult situation.

“So, James, have you explained to your mother why these girls were so upset with you.”

Jim blushed; what he had kept secret over the weekend was not going to be kept so. “Sort of,” he replied.

“Sort of,” mused the Head. “Mrs Marks, on two occasions I have been made aware of complaints by sixth form girls to female teachers that Jim here has rather wandering hands; pinching girls’ bottoms, and, I am afraid to say, touching them inappropriately elsewhere. Apparently Jim rather naively thought they were only pretending to be irritated by his attentions, and were actually flattered by his interest. Anyway, as a result I had your son in here twice to warn him to behave, and on the second occasion made him write a long essay on his behaviour and respect for others, which he did, though clearly it did not modify your behaviour did it?”

Jim found the floor of immense interest by way of response.

When he finally looked up again the Head looked directly at the boy. “I did consider caning you, James, and given what seems to have happened now perhaps I should have done. I also asked the girls to make clear to you where your actions were inappropriate, but I suspect that you paid that no attention?”

As Mr Gibson regretted his strong reticence to cane sixth formers, Mrs Marks looked at her son. “Is this true?” She asked incredulously.

A further embarrassed gaze at the floor was answer enough.

Jim cringed at the look of disgust his mother gave him, before she turned back to the Head. “My son clearly has behaved very badly, but nevertheless I do not think that fully allows for what he had been through. It is not for those girls to take the law into their own hands!”

Mr Gibson agreed to investigate; he knew he had no option.

Jim was in no real state to attend class, but the Head told him to use the bed in the school medical room to do some private study. Under duress he finally caved in and gave the names of the two girls the Headmaster did not immediately guess for himself, one of whom was Anne, he also did his best for Anne by explaining that she probably had saved him from an even worse fate.

After they had left his office Mr Gibson took a deep breath and then found the Deputy Head. His fears that he had badly misjudged the situation were confirmed by Alice Rawles’ reaction to his story. It was clear she agreed with his own feelings that he’d let himself down and felt he should have consulted her. Some of young Mr Marks’ behaviour was essentially sexual assault in her view.

After some discussion it was agreed that it would be better if she handled the matter from thereon in.

Thus, just after the afternoon interval, five sixth formers were waiting outside her office. Though the girls did not know it, Miss Rawles had already spoken to each of their parents, after first inspecting the damage they had inflicted.

Despite her disgust at the boy’s actions she was still appalled at the state of the boy’s backside. It literally was black and blue all over, with the ten cane marks clearly visible over the top of it all. However, it did not stop her warning the boy that if he ever touched a girl inappropriately again then she would be personally recommending his expulsion as well as seriously considering reporting the matter to the police. Miss Rawles noted that the boy at least seemed to have belatedly learned a bitter lesson. Unfortunately it was up to her to teach that to the girls.

Josie, Mary, Anne, Sarah and Frances were all nervous – though they had never expected it, there was no reason why the five of them would have been called out of class together other than for what had happened on Friday. A few brief whispers indicated they were all extremely nervous to be in their current position. None had personally experienced it before, but they all knew very few who did escaped unpunished!

Miss Rawles eventually appeared at her door, but did not invite them in to her office. Instead the confused young ladies followed her down the corridor to the school medical room, and were ordered to wait briefly outside.

Two minutes later the five of them looked in shock at Jim who was lying face down with his trousers and pants lowered to mid-thigh. Miss Rawles made them all take a good look at the ‘serious’ injuries they had inflicted, noting they were looking at the result of their assault after three days of healing.

In the cold light of day the five were appalled. Anne wanted to be sick as she looked at the results. Two others seemed to have tears of shame forming in their eyes. All apologised sincerely to Jim.

It was an apology that Jim reciprocated with heartfelt feelings. He now recognised fully how awful his intrusions on them had been, having had long lectures from his mother, Miss Rawles and indeed a further long, more kindly, chat with the school nurse about the propriety of his behaviour and some advice on how to behave if he really wanted to gain a girl’s attentions in a positive manner. Ironically it was the kindly chat and explanation that has been the most effective in many ways.

A few minutes later the very subdued girls were in Miss Rawles’ office.

“You should know that the only reason that you are not being interviewed by the police rather than me, on charges of kidnap and assault are that Jim absolutely refuses to press charges. Perhaps the fact that his actions also were totally unacceptable is in part responsible for that, but no matter what and how he touched you, it does not allow you to attack someone in that manner.”

The girls squirmed under the lecture. Not even Josie felt like replying.

“Given that Mr Marks is not going to press his case, do I have your word that you do not intend to press a case for some form of assault based on his behaviour also?”

The five girls looked at each other and started to murmur their assent.

Miss Rawles interrupted. “Not good enough! I want to hear an answer clearly from each of you.”

One by one the girls said: “Yes, Miss,” in voices betraying varying levels of nerves.

“Very well,” Miss Rawles said as they finished. “So that just leaves the question of what we do now.”

The five fidgeted and glanced up from the floor at each other in the pause. As Miss Rawles intimated she had spoken to each of their parents; there was a sharper reaction as they each considered the likely reactions involved.

“So having spoken to your parents to obtain their agreement on your punishment, Mr Gibson and I have decided that the school must ensure no other pupil ever thinks taking the law into their own hands is a good idea. As a result you will each be caned; and caned to be made an example of!”

She noted the panicked looks as they considered that. “However, that caning will still be mild compared to the abuse of James Marks you are responsible for!” You will all be caned on your bare bottoms. Josie, as leader you will get eight. Anne, since you probably prevented an even worse abuse you will get four. The rest of you will be getting six. When you consider it after you will, I trust, think; if this caning is this much agony, and I assure you it will be agony, then how much worse the paddling and ten stroke caning you gave to Mr Marks must have been! Is that clear!?”

The five girls nodded in shock as they considered. None of them had ever heard of a girl being caned bare before. In fact most (rare) canings to girls were to the hand. It was only the boys whose bare backsides were liable to be chastised by the Headmaster and for him to go that far was by all accounts a rare event.

Nevertheless, still in shock from the sight of Jim’s black and blue rear end, none of them felt able to even plead as they stood in front of the Deputy Head; more than one already had silent tears slipping down their cheeks.

“Right girls, follow me.” Ordered the Deputy Head.

“Where, where are we going?” Asked Josie pensively.

“My office is rather tight to deal with the five of you so Mr Gibson has vacated his office for a while.” Was the short reply as they followed Miss Rawles the few yards along the corridor.

She held the door open to the office as the girls crept in. Mr Gibson was, as expected, absent, but the girls looked in horror at the three foot crook-handled stick left on his desk. The only other item laid out was the school punishment book, already open with a pen in the crease of the binding.

“Right, Ladies you will each strip to your blouse and knickers, then face that wall. I will be back shortly with Mrs Sinclair, who is going to witness. You had better all be ready when I return!” With that Miss Rawles left the room.

As the girls removed their blazers, jumpers and skirts there were a few moans of how awful this was. The only whispered comments were along the lines of: “At least we’re not expelled,” and: “I am so scared;” to which the reply of one of the others was: “Of this, or our parents tonight? Or both?” Josie and Mary both audibly wondered if they needed to take their tights off too, and finally glumly did so as Sarah reminded them that the Deputy had promised to whack their bare bottoms. The others decided to leave their stockings on, having not yet succumbed to the convenience of the new-fangled nylon tights that had only recently become widely available.

Finally though, the five girls stood facing the wall in a line, all once again dry eyed, at least for the moment. A few final whispers were made before a noise outside silenced them. Moments later the door opened and closed again as Miss Rawles and Mrs Sinclair, the notoriously strict Head of Classics (nicknamed Slipper Sinclair behind her back) came in and surveyed the five backs facing them.

“Turn around girls” ordered Miss Rawles, who watched as they rather self-consciously did so. They all briefly had their hands cupped in front of them until she also ordered them to keep their hands by their sides.

Over the next quarter of an hour Miss Rawles’ second lecture, this time in the shadow of the cane, ensured the girls understood exactly how awful their actions had been. The fact that that Jim was lucky not to be having permanent marks or injuries as a result of their wild behaviour was mentioned more than once. The shame on themselves, their families and the school were all emphasised as the girls were expertly reduced to miserable wrecks, and that was before Miss Rawles had even picked up the implement she was to beat them with!

Eventually she finished and paused to look at the five girls fidgeting miserably in front of her, their blouses just about long enough to act a short dress.

“Josie Evans, you were the ring leader were you not?” She asked.

“Yes Miss.” Josie murmured her reply unwillingly.

“Well then you can lead from the front and go first then!”

There was a confused look of panic as Josie watched Miss Rawles finally pick up the cane, and at the same time move the punishment book to one side.

It was Mrs Sinclair who escorted the rather fear stricken Josie to the desk and told her to sign the punishment book. Sickly she did so, on the line where her details had already been added, noting the number of strokes was still blank. It was then she remembered that standing before the last stroke would, according to the boys, lead to its repetition.

Miss Sinclair unsympathetically reminded her of that consequence as she told ‘Miss Evans’ to bend over and take a firm grip of the other side of the desk.

Josie was now rather panicked as she waited. She had indeed led the others on, and caning Jim had seemed an excellent way to sort out the problem. However, having her bottom presented for its attentions was a very different matter. She suspected Miss Rawles was going to make a particular example of her, and was finding it very difficult to cope with that prospect. All she tried to hold on to was that she had to be brave for the others. She had to!

Suddenly she felt fingers on her waist. Seconds later a shudder went through her as Mrs Sinclair whipped down her navy knickers to below her knees, from where they dropped to pool round her bare feet.

Another shudder racked her body as the cane in Miss Rawles hand touched her flesh, that of her bared buttocks.

Miss Rawles grimly gave final consideration on the amount of force to apply, concluding as she had before that there was little option, especially with Josie, but to be harsh. It was unfortunate given her previous disciplinary record, very unfortunate, she thought as she slowly pulled the cane back.

With a grimace of resolve she returned it as hard as she could fairly high into Josie Evan’s rear.

The thwack echoed round the silent room. The briefest of pauses passed before a gasp of shock emanated from Josie’s mouth. She knew the cane was supposed to be sore, but that was not just sore, it was, as Miss Rawles had promised, agony.

Ten seconds or so later a second blow cut into her flesh, just below the first. Josie desperately stifled the wail she wanted to make. This was unimaginably painful, and that was only two. A realisation of what they had put Jim through built in her consciousness. That guilt began to erode her initial determination not to cry.


The third cut had landed, slightly lower again. Josie was unable not to softly cry out. Her eyes were becoming wet. The fourth followed relatively quickly after, slightly lower again. This time the cry was louder and Josie felt the tears track down her cheeks.

Her four friends meanwhile were appalled, both at the ferocity of the strokes and the vivid marks being raised as a result. This was all so different from the excited adrenalin filled action they had participated in on Friday. Even if they were not in line for the same they would have found it awful. As it was, of course, they were; Anne and Frances were already in tears as they considered their forthcoming turns over the desk.

Miss Rawles left a longer break of around half a minute, taking the opportunity to glare coldly at the four waiting girls. A look that indicated they too could expect little mercy.

Finally she lined up the cane very low on Josie’s bottom and thrashed it down hard just above the line where buttock meets thigh. Josie broke completely and screamed blue murder as the impact seared her mind. Just, only just, did she manage to hang on to the desk.

Sobbing freely she was bitterly regretting her enthusiasm to give such punishments, thoughts that were punctuated by a further dose of pain as the sixth stroke crashed into her rear, causing her to scream unrestrainedly. The seventh was worse, landing somewhere between the fifth and sixth blows. If it was not for the fact there was only one to go she was sure she would have stood and begged for mercy.

Miss Rawles took another pause of thirty seconds or so before lining up the final blow, in the gap between the fourth and sixth cuts. Slowly she raised the cane high, then brought it down with every ounce of effort at her disposal.

A tortured scream passed Josie’s lips as she finally stood, dancing, sobbing, shaking as she clutched her bottom. She was beyond caring what an exhibition she was making of herself in front of her now utterly panic-stricken friends as she tried to cope with what had happened.

Miss Rawles was in no hurry. She knew what this exhibition must be doing to the minds of those waiting! During the pause Mrs Sinclair completed Josie Evans’ entry and checked the next name on the list.

Finally after three or four minutes the initial wave of sobs had subsided to the point that Josie could be ordered to pull her knickers up and stand back in line.

Mary shuddered as the tear wracked girl gasped and sniffed next to her. Would she be like that too, she wondered.

Horrified, she realised she was about to find out as Mrs Sinclair asked for Mary Yates.

She panicked.

“No, no, please I will never do it again. Please!” She begged.

Mrs Sinclair ignored the pleas and rather roughly dragged the girl to the desk. When Mary did not immediately pick up the pen to sign, Mrs Sinclair roughly forced it into her hand as Miss Rawles warned her she was perilously close to being given extra strokes.

Jolted by fear, Mary added her name; her shaking meant that the scrawl was near illegible.

After a final desperate plea was dismissed with another threat to add strokes, Mary finally grabbed the other side of the desk. She was already sobbing.

A heartfelt wail accompanied Mrs Sinclair’s pulling down of her knickers and admonishment to hold tight if she did not want extra.

Miss Rawles gazed down at the rather generously proportioned bottom in front of her in some irritation. While she knew, and indeed knew from her own experience on the receiving end that a caning was a distressing experience for a schoolgirl of any age, Mary Yates really was making a meal of it. She struggled to recall anyone making such a song and dance before she started, especially one who was already technically an adult.

She had no inclination to be merciful as she lined up the first cut at the top of the target area and briskly thrashed it down.

Mary screamed, never had her body known a pain like that! She stood and clutched clamped her hands over the reddening mark and begged for mercy again.

It took a minute before she was back in position to have the stroke again.

A now angry Miss Rawles thrashed the repeat first stroke slightly below the first.

Barely did Mary hang on as she gave another piercing screech.

On the next stroke she was up again and Miss Rawles realised that getting her to voluntarily take her punishment was not going to be possible.

After some angry words, in which expulsion was mentioned, a perpetually sobbing Mary finally agreed to be held down for the repeated second and the remaining four strokes. In addition Miss Rawles informed her she would get three extras with a lighter cane to the backs of her thighs as punishment for the trouble she was causing.

As Mrs Sinclair assisted the recalcitrant girl over the desk, and took a firm grip of her arms as she leaned over her, Miss Rawles retrieved a shorter whippy cane from the Headmaster’s cupboard and laid it on the desk.

Picking up the senior cane she lined up the fourth of the now eight strokes Mary had conspired to get for herself.

Mary bucked, screamed and stamped her feet as she struggled to escape from Mrs Sinclair’s clutches as the Deputy Head methodically thrashed her, leaving eight distinct red lines on the target.

She gave Mary a break as she swapped canes to the lighter one. After five minutes during which Mary’s sobs slowly diminished, she finally touched the cane mid way up her thigh.

The sobs and pleas restarted immediately as Mary realised what was happening. Miss Rawles of course ignored her as she screamed in anticipation shortly before the cane impacted. It was not a hard blow, but for Mary it still stung like the blazes.

A stinging that doubled, then trebled as the second and third blows landed slightly above and below the first.

Mary did not hear the admonishments as she hopped around the room in agony once released. It was a slow process to put her knickers back on, passed to her by Mrs Sinclair, having been kicked off as a result of her writhing and kicking early in the punishment.

Sarah and Frances took their punishments better. Neither wanted to lose control in the way Mary had, given the consequences. Nevertheless both of them writhed in pain as the desperately clutched the desk through the punishment, and were very red eyed when they took their turns to dance around the Headmaster’s office in agony afterwards.

Off all, Anne was the only one to take her thrashing more or less in silence. Of course she had the advantage of getting off with only four strokes, though Miss Rawles ensured every one of them was memorable. The truth was that Anne had been guilt ridden at her participation in the attack on Jim all weekend, and to some degree the thrashing was a way to expunge that. It was almost with relief she stood, last of all, and only briefly clutched her bottom before slowly pulling her regulation pants back over her rear. She was the only one who was able to apologise and thank Miss Rawles at the end.

After ten final minutes facing the wall the girls were allowed to put their skirts and blazers on. Mary and Josie also had to struggle back into their tights, which required some help from their friends.

They were then told to go to the library. Assuming this was to let the recover till the school final bell they were shocked to find Mr Gibson, along with all five of their mothers.

Mr Gibson said little other than he’d hoped they’d learned their lesson, to which they all embarrassedly muttered their assent as he left them.

Rather than immediately escorting their daughters home the girls found themselves having to show the damage to all five mothers. Mary’s mother was rather shocked at the state of her daughter’s bottom and legs, but once she knew the reason angrily promised her some extra practice in taking a deserved punishment properly. The thought brought fresh tears to Mary’s reddened eyes.

Worse was to follow as the women informed the girls that they’d spoken together, and felt the school punishment did not adequately reflect the seriousness of what they had done.

Thus, they had decided that in two weekends time they were going meet together, and the girls would ‘enjoy’ a spanking party. While Jim was not going to be invited, his mother would be guest of honour!

Josie, Mary, Anne, Sarah and Frances all felt sick as they realised the consequences of taking the law into their own hands were still far from over!

The End