An aspiring actress finds a surprising role

By John Switch

Kathy McGuire slowly worked her way through the list of roles she wished to apply for. There were not many for a newly graduated drama student. One seemed interesting:

“On-line reality show set in a simulated but fully authentic 1950s Finishing School for young ladies to run for one month. Currently recruiting for students and teachers. Payment is by profit share. Send recent photo and application to: (An email address was given for applications).

Kathy was not happy about the notion of payment by profit share. It could easily finish up with her earning nothing, but at least participating might get her noticed. Googling the company name did produce a list of previous shows they had made, and it seemed they were honest about calculating payments. She could easily earn several thousand pounds for the month’s work, so she sent an application.

A few days later, she was in a large office with scores of other hopefuls. Most wore everyday clothes, but Kathy and a few others had attempted a 1950s look. In her case, it consisted of flat black shoes, black calf length skirt, plain white blouse and her long ginger hair put in a pony-tail. An auburn-haired middle-aged woman took the floor.

“Hi, I’m Michelle. Thank you all for coming. I trust you have read the information packs. Any questions before we move on to the individual auditions?”

An attractive South Asian woman raised her hand.

Michelle glanced at her iPad. “Yes Anita?”

“You say this is going to be authentic 1950s. Schools in those days frequently used corporal punishment, straps and canes and the like. Is that going to feature in this show?”

“Yes, it is. Unlike students in those days, you can opt out if you are due to be punished, and leave.”

Kathy felt a peculiar lightness in her stomach. She had never in her life been spanked, let alone been subject to other forms of corporal punishment.

A West Indian woman raised her hand. “So we have to accept being strapped, caned or whatever, or not get paid?”

“That’s correct, Simone, but if you were on ‘I’m A Celebrity’ you’d have to eat kangaroo testicles or not get paid.”

“That’s not likely to arise, I’m not a celebrity.”

“You might be after this.”

Simone grinned. “Good point!”

Kathy raised her hand. “Talking of I’m A Celebrity, will there be an equivalent of the Bush Telegraph?”

“There will indeed. You can talk about anything there and what you say will be kept in the strictest confidence unless you reveal something that could be criminal or indicates we are failing in our duty of care to participants and staff.”

The audition itself bore no resemblance to the show. Kathy was asked to imagine she had been pulled over for speeding by a middle-aged male police officer and to try to talk her way out of being given a ticket. She decided to play contrite, saying she had a clean record, wouldn’t do it again. The ‘police officer’ seemed unconvinced.

Thinking she had blown it, Kathy was surprised and delighted to receive a call next day inviting her to participate in the show.

The ‘Roxby School for Young Ladies’ was a hotel and conference centre in rural Britanny, hired in its entirety for the summer by the production company. On arrival, Kathy had to hand in her mobile phone, was reminded that covert filming would be continuous, though other participants, including those playing teaching staff, would not have access to it, and was given a printed Participants’ Pack and instructed to go to her room and read it.

‘Students’ had to share rooms, though Kathy thought it could have been worse. She had half-expected to find herself in a huge dormitory like an old-fashioned hospital ward. The wardrobes were filled with clothing not unlike those she had selected for her audition. The Participants’ Instructions said that only these clothes should be worn for the duration of her participation, so after showering in the room’s en-suite (she wasn’t convinced that was authentic 1950s but she wasn’t about to demand that they have her queuing to use a communal bathroom) she began to get into costume. As she was doing so, her room-mate arrived and turned out to be Anita, whom she remembered from the audition.

“Hi. Nice to meet again.”

“Yes. Ready to go back to school?”

“Guess so. Going to seem a bit weird, especially… What made you ask them about corporal punishment? It hadn’t occurred to me.”

“I used to read lots of old kids’ books when I was little. It was clear that corporal punishment was routine then.”

“I wonder why they chose that era, then?”

Anita gave her what her mother would have called an old-fashioned look. “So that they have an excuse to have plenty of spankings. Obviously, this show is targeting the spanking scene. All the student participants I’ve seen are young attractive women with nice bottoms. Anyway, I came prepared with plenty of cream to prevent bruising. Got some arnica gel too, but that works best if applied immediately after. It takes the sting away.”

“You seem prepared, and knowledgeable on the subject!”

“Previous partner used to like spanking me.”

“I’ve never been spanked. I hope I can cope with it.”

Anita smiled cheekily. “Want to find out?”

Startled, Kathy asked: “Are you suggesting you spank me? Now?”

Still smiling, Anita nodded.

Kathy shook her head. “No, thank you. But I suppose it will happen if I break one of the rules, which looks like it’s going to be very easy to do.”

“Exactly. They want an excuse to spank us.”

The participants assembled in the dining room for the evening meal. Anita and Kathy shared a table with Simone, from their audition, and her room-mate Linda, a tall blonde Scot.

The food was plain but good. If it was authentic 1950s, it wasn’t English, which in Kathy’s opinion supported Anita’s notion that the producers were creating just enough of a superficial resemblance to the 1950s to justify the use of corporal punishment.

“Basically,” she concluded. “We’re taking part in a porn film.”

The others nodded.

Linda added: “They’ll have thousands of hours of video. Apart from live streaming it all on pay-to-view, they’ll probably cobble some kind of feature film out of it. Probably they’ll create situations to fit some kind of plot they have in mind.”

Kathy squirmed in her seat. “I hope they’re not too severe.”

“No worse than you’d get at a scene event, I would think.”

“Having never been to a scene event, I’m none the wiser.”

Simone and Linda grinned and exchanged glances.

“What?” Kathy asked.

Simone smiled again. “I reckon the participants playing staff will be drawing lots to see who gets to spank your pristine bottom first!”

“They’ll probably want to tawse and cane you too!” Linda added. “I’ll bet you a tenner you don’t get through tomorrow without getting a very sore bottom.”

Anita took Kathy’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t tease her!” She turned to Kathy. “If you do get punished, try to keep your bottom relaxed; it hurts a lot more if you’re tense.”

Kathy squeezed back. “Thanks! I’ll try to remember that.”

The first lesson for a dozen of the students was ‘French Conversation’.

“Probably don’t want to hear the obvious jokes about oral French,” Kathy remarked to Anita as they entered the classroom.

“You girl!”

Kathy jumped and looked at the rather severe-looking forty-something teacher, who was glaring at her. “Me, miss?”

“Yes, you girl. What is your name?”

“Kathy McGuire, miss.”

“Well, Kathy McGuire, did you read the school rules in your hand book?”

“Yes, miss.”

“And what do they say about classroom etiquette? With particular reference to entering and leaving?”

Kathy swallowed nervously. “Pupils should enter and leave in silence.”

“And did you do that?”

“No miss.”

“Indeed you did not. Stand at the front; the rest of you, sit down.”

Kathy was mortified; first lesson not even started and she was already in trouble. Anita looked concerned. Simone winked at her. Linda smiled and raised her eyebrows. The other girls simply looked prepared to enjoy the unscheduled entertainment. The teacher, Madame Peche, Kathy remembered, strode to her desk, opened the drawer and removed a foot-long wooden ruler.

“Hold your hand out.”

Kathy complied and the ruler was brought down sharply onto her palm, catching her thumb as it did so.

“Jesus! That fucking hurt!” Too late, she clapped her hands over her mouth as the room erupted in laughter.

“Silence! Unless you all want a dose!” Madame Peche glared at Kathy. “I’ve never heard such disgusting language! The principal needs to deal with you.” She wrote something on a note pad, tore off the page, folded it and handed it to Kathy. “Take this to the principal now, girl!”

Kathy turned and fled the classroom. Stomach churning, she unfolded the note and read: ‘This girl, Kathy McGuire, swears in class. Please deal with appropriately.’

 She swallowed nervously. Being sent to the principal obviously meant a more severe punishment than the ruler, and that almost certainly meant the cane. She felt a peculiar lightness in her stomach; she was afraid, and yet a little bit excited too.

Kathy refolded the note and slowly made her way to the principal’s office. Fortunately, it was sign-posted. She knocked on the door and a woman’s voice bade her enter. Trembling, she obeyed.

The woman smiled at her. “What can I do for you?”

“Madame Peche said I was to give this to the principal.”

Kathy handed the note to the woman, who knocked on another door and went through.

“Madame Peche has sent a girl down to you, Mr Roxby.”

There was a short pause and a male voice said: “Come in, Miss McGuire.”

With great reluctance, Kathy obeyed and stood in front of the principal’s desk.

“Care to explain yourself?”

“Madame Peche was giving me the ruler and it hit my thumb and it really hurt.”

“Let me have a look.”

Surprised, Kathy held out her hand. Roxby took it and examined her thumb. “Yes, it is bruised. Mrs Wood, please be so kind as to bring the first aid kit.” He turned back to Kathy. “For future reference, when being punished on the hand, tuck your thumb in like so.” He gently lowered her thumb and tucked it under the knuckle. “I would demonstrate further for you but I suspect Madame Peche will wish to continue your punishment when you return to her class.”

“Yes sir.”

Roxby took the tube of gel Mrs Wood handed to him and massaged some into her thumb.

“This should help.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Why were you being punished?”

“Talking as we went into the class room.”

“I see. Well, I’ll leave Madame Peche to deal with that on your return. However,” He released her hand. “I need to deal with the matter of your bad language. What did you say?”

She swallowed nervously and looked at him. “Exact words, sir?”

Was he suppressing a smile? “You may paraphrase.”

She swallowed. “I took the Lord’s name in vain. And I effed.”

He was definitely suppressing a smile.

“I see. Well I cannot let that go.” He went to a large basket in the corner and selected a rattan cane. “Shall we proceed?”

Kathy realised she was being given the opportunity to invoke the get-out clause and leave. In other circumstances, she might have, but she didn’t want to leave the show so early and, truth be told, the conversation last night had intrigued her more than she would have cared to admit out loud. She wanted to know what a caning felt like.

She looked Roxby in the eye. “Yes sir.”

He nodded. “Very well. Bend over the desk.”

Kathy obeyed and felt her skirt being lifted, then the cane tapping her bottom. Her knickers were being left in place, then. She was relieved they were old-fashioned, relatively thick ones that covered her buttocks entirely. She felt a streak of fire as the first stroke landed.

“Ow!” She wriggled as the heat from the cane stroke seemed to sink in.

The second stroke landed a little below the first.

“Shhhh…!” She managed to suppress the word.

A pause of ten seconds. Kathy clenched her bottom, then remembered Anita’s advice and relaxed, just in time to receive the third stroke.

“Oowww!” Kathy’s awareness became more and more focussed on the heat from the painful streaks on her bottom.

The fourth landed a little lower. He was working his way down the sensitive underside of her buttocks.

“Aaaaah!” She breathed heavily and her bum swayed from side to side.

When she was still, the fifth stroke landed.


“Just one more.”

It landed on the crease where buttocks meet thigh.


“That’s it. All over.”

She stood up. Both hands flew to her bottom and rubbed frantically.

“Do you need time to compose yourself?”

“I’m alright, sir. Thank you, sir.”

And truly she was; her bottom hurt, as expected, but she felt strange sensations of pleasure too.

Roxby wrote something on Madame Peche’s note and handed it to Kathy. “Give this to Madame Peche. Off you go.”

On the way back to her classroom, Kathy nipped into a wash-room to examine her bottom in the mirror and felt a thrill at the sight of the red streaks across her white buttocks.

She returned to the classroom and  knocked on the door.


She obeyed.

“Ah, The prodigal returns. Have you been dealt with?”

“Yes miss.” Peche just looked at her. Kathy handed her the note.

Peche didn’t look at it. “Well?”

“I’ve been caned, miss. Six.”

Peche opened the note and nodded. “We have unfinished business.”

Kathy held out her hand, thumb tucked in as Roxby had shown her. She received three stinging strokes on her palm.

“And your other hand!”

Kathy held out her right hand and received another three strokes.

“Now go and sit down. You’ve wasted enough time.”

Kathy took the seat next to Anita and squirmed as her sore bottom came into contact with the unforgivingly hard wooden chair. She felt a perverse pleasure at the resultant sensations.

The End

© John Switch 2021

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