The Senior Prefect

(A sequel to Incomplete)

By

Old Tom and Susan Thomas

 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.

Alice’s record had showed two canings in the past and five doses of the slipper; naughty Alice! Well she had been naughty for a while but not after the third year, but what’s on the record is on the record. The last caning was from Mr Lord who taught History; short fuse was not in it. “Over you go Alice,” he had barked when she irritated him in the third year. He’d lifted her skirt and given her three stinging strokes across her knickers. The earlier caning hardly counted really as her whole class got one stinger from their form teacher for mucking about when she was a tad late coming in. The slipper really didn’t count much as it was Miss Duffy who’d given her all five and everyone knew she just did it because she liked whacking a girl’s bum; but a record is a record whatever the rights and wrongs and the consequence was Senior Prefect.

Not that any punishment she got at school ended there; no chance. Daddy added; over his knee and a good spanking followed. She’d protested the last caning consequence. “Please, let me keep my knickers on. I’m thirteen now.”

“I’m spanking you, not your knickers. Besides, I was there at your birth; you didn’t have knickers on then.” He pulled them down and spanked her hard.

Not any more though. Alice had not been punished since the third year. She was now a model pupil, most unlike her younger sister. Kirsty was, well Kirsty was Kirsty; if there was some silly, irresponsible, mad, dangerous or forbidden thing to do then Kirsty did it. Kirsty had the longest record for corporal punishment of any girl in the school and she was still only in the fourth year. Why she had visited Miss Anderton’s office four times; once three with the junior cane; then six; then three with the senior and then six; all on her bare bottom, of course, and daddy had spanked her too. In fact Miss Anderton had started hinting at the E word; expulsion. Daddy bought a strap; had both Alice and Kirsty in his study so that it was fair. “Either of you gets punished at school gets this; two for one; two with this for every stroke of the cane or wallop with the slipper.” Of course he meant Kirsty, not Alice, but had to be fair.

So fair that he gave both of them a taster, knickers pulled down and three hard whacks with the strap each. Brought tears to both girls’ eyes. It was a ferocious strap, a scary strap, a strap to be avoided at all costs. Naturally they both promised to be very good. Alice already was and, for a while, so was Kirsty.

The “Day of Consequences”, as Alice later named it in her diary, started routinely enough. Miss Anderton had banned every girl, including even the upper sixth, from leaving the school at lunchtime. She didn’t want them getting caught up in the mischief that some kids from other schools were causing in town. A strict ban. “Any girl, yes even a girl in the upper sixth, even a prefect, will pay a visit to my office if they leave the school at lunchtime.” There was a gasp around the school. Girls in the upper sixth and especially prefects simply didn’t get caned. Many of them were already eighteen; they were grown up but a “visit” meant only one thing; knickers down, over the desk and lots of strokes with the senior cane, prefects losing their badge.

Alice’s job was to organise a rota of prefects to ‘guard’ the entrance to the school and detain any girl who tried to leave at lunchtime. No girl tried. She inspected her prefect guard. On the way back a friend of Kirsty, breathless, dramatic, anxious, ran up. “Kirsty’s gone out to the town. She was dared and done it, out through the little gate the gardeners use.”

Alice was alarmed. Kirsty could get expelled for this. She ran across the school grounds, out through the little gate, down the lane as fast as she could, frightened that Kirsty would be caught before she could get to her. She found her in the pub garden taking some beer mats as proof of her visit. Alice was so forceful that Kirsty came without argument, Alice’s fear communicated to her silly brain.

Alice hustled her sister back along the lane and they just got to the gate when they heard the voice: “You there girl, stop!”

Alice’s mind latched on to “girl”; one, singular, not plural. Quickly she shoved Kirsty bodily through the gate and turned. Miss Primpton came breathless down the lane; thin, fussy, nit picking, authoritarian, unsympathetic, strict; a teacher deserving her nickname Miss Prim and Proper.

“Did I see another girl with you?”

“I don’t know miss.” Alice would not lie and the question was foolish.

Prim and Proper leapt to a conclusion. “Another prefect was with you; who was it?”

Alice would not lie. “I can’t answer that question miss.”

Miss Anderton was not available until school ended; an afternoon of sickening worry for Alice. Later, in front of Miss Anderton, her head up, but heart pounding, as her predicament came home to her. If she explained about Kirsty it was quite likely that Miss Anderton would expel her sister. if she kept quiet she was in real trouble. She would certainly be given a serious caning and lose her treasured Senior Prefect’s badge. Even if she explained, Alice could now see she was in the wrong; tried to hide her sister’s misbehaviour; left the school herself and concealed the truth from Miss Primpton. She’d still probably get caned and lose her badge. She was close to tears at the situation she had landed herself in. Why hadn’t she just left Kirsty to get on with it and take her chances? Why hadn’t she simply reported Kirsty? Why had she been such a fool?

She then thought of a lie she could tell, a version of truth, how she had gone to find Kirsty but hadn’t managed to catch her and Kirsty had run off. Alice though had been brought up to “tell the truth and shame the devil”; couldn’t do it.

Miss Anderton quizzed her about why she had gone and who the other prefect was, but Alice was firm. “I am very sorry, Miss Anderton, I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I am afraid I really can’t tell you.”

The headmistress admired courage and loyalty and remained calm. “Very well, but you now leave me with only one option.”

Alice gave a nod, nervous nod.

“You are a sixth former and not just a prefect but Senior Prefect. I made the consequences of leaving the school at lunchtime perfectly clear, did I not? You will not give me an explanation so…”

Alice felt the tears well in her eyes. Blindly she fumbled with her badge, her treasured badge of which she was so proud, and removed it, handed it to a bemused headmistress. “I am very sorry, Miss Anderton. What do I have to do to get ready for my caning?”

The headmistress sighed, reluctant to go any further and convinced there was more to this than met the eye. Who was Alice protecting? She wondered if Alice might be protecting the Head Girl or Deputy, but if so why?

She indicated a chair, the same one that had held Melissa’s clothes last term.

“Use that chair for your clothes; remove your blazer, shoes, skirt, knickers and tights. When you’ve done that, bend over my desk and hold the far side; tell me when you are ready.” Quickly the headmistress pulled out the punishment book, turned to look out of the window. She wanted the door to her desires to stay firmly locked; Alice was as attractive as Melissa.

Alice was nervous and tearful, her hands were shaking as she removed her blazer and hung it on the back of the chair, shoes next, to postpone the worst part. She stood leaving her shoes under the chair and took a deep breath, reaching for the catch and zip she undid the skirt and slowly removed it feeling embarrassed, folded, placed the skirt on the chair. Always neat, even in this situation, now the last part, then nothing between her and Miss Anderton’s cane. Catching the tights and knickers in one she pulled them down, tugged them from her feet, separated them with shaking hands, tucked them under her skirt.

Trembling now, embarrassment and fear, walked with bare feet to the desk and laid herself across. The desk was cold, her bottom too. Suddenly she realised her blouse partly hung down over her bottom protecting it, stood again and puzzled what to do, trembling more she undid some buttons, pulled the tails of her blouse together and tied them to prevent her blouse from protecting her. Lay back over the desk and gripped the far side firmly. Noticed how worn the leather of the desk was.

“I’m ready Miss Anderton.” It was a lie, nowhere near ready, frightened, embarrassed at her near nudity, humiliated by losing her badge, how could she be ready? She shut her eyes. Heard the headmistress go to a cupboard, heard the door open, then heard a nasty swish. Was she testing a cane? Then a rattle as the cane was put back. Not good enough? Heard another swish, nastier, deeper, more frightening, the same sound again. Heard the cupboard door shut. Alice felt sick as her heart beat faster, screwed her eyes tight shut wishing this was over.

Miss Anderton was thoughtful; a choice of six; nine or twelve strokes, what should she choose? There seemed no choice but to make it twelve, a serious matter when the Senior Prefect breaks a rule in that fashion.

Lay the cane on Alice’s bottom, saw her jerk. How to apply them was her thought. Decided on one right in the centre of the girl’s bottom, then, using that as a guide, four parallel above, four parallel below, three diagonally across the nine. A fearfully painful caning but this was a serious matter.

“I am going to give you twelve strokes.”

Heard a gasp from Alice.

“This is my most senior cane, because you were my Senior Prefect and you have not only betrayed my trust but are yet hiding someone for reasons I am not clear about. You will stay in position and not move until I give you permission. I have no expectation that you will remain quiet; this will be very painful.”

“Yes Miss.” Alice’s voice was weak and nervous. She gripped the far edge of the desk even more tightly, didn’t want any extra strokes, must remain in position.

Alice felt the cane tap gently against her bottom, not once several times. She found the wait agonising, had been raised to be good, dutiful, obedient, but this was so hard. She was to be eighteen in just a few days and yet here she was half naked, bent over a desk to have her bottom beaten for trying to get her silly sister out of trouble. It simply wasn’t fair! Then the cane cracked down.

Alice screeched; it was awful. The intensity of the pain that burned across her bottom was far worse than the cane strokes she’d had in the third year. Miss Anderton, on the other hand, was pleased; a nice straight red line, already becoming a raised welt, right across the centre right where she had wanted it.

Miss Anderton focussed her mind on her pattern making; four above, four below, ignored the movements of the girl ignored her cries of distress. If you don’t want the cane, behave yourself, is how she viewed it.

Alice was focussed on the awful burning intensity of each cane stroke that continued to hurt unbelievably even after it had been delivered. She was focussed on hanging on to the desk edge in spite of the pain, focussed on not moving too much, focussed on trying hard not to scream too loudly so that her shame could not be heard outside, focussed on the awful agonising wait between strokes when Miss Anderton, intent on her pattern, ensured her placement was correct.

Nine strokes given, three quarters, seventy five percent, nought point seven five, but still three to go. Alice was a mess; her bottom was so painful it was hard to keep still for her punishment, eyes were practically blind with tears, nose was running.

Miss Anderton angled her cane; time for the three diagonals. Alice nearly stood as the tenth stroke crossed so many lines of pain, wriggled so much that Miss Anderton had to wait; swish went her eleventh. Now more screeching and wriggling followed by the final stroke, hardest and nastiest of all. Poor Alice lay across the desk praying she hadn’t got it wrong and that was the last. The headmistress’s voice came from a distance, another world almost. “Now Alice, you are to go and stand under my clock with your hands on your head.”

The clock, old, chain movement, had once hung in the hall but had eventually been removed and put in a cupboard. Now restored, it provided a comforting background tick and tock for the headmistress as she worked; also for girls to calm down after a caning.

Alice stood humiliated, her bottom throbbing, hands on head. She could barely stand still,such was the pulsing pain of her welts. Miss Anderton put the cane neatly away; first time used and truly formidable, she realised. Took up her pen and added an entry in her punishment book; very few entries stood between Melissa and Alice. Then a letter home to Alice’s parents. She always wrote to the parents as a visit to her was reserved for the most serious offences. Finished she spoke. “Very well Alice, you may get dressed again now.”

Dressing was a torment, even after drying her eyes with a handkerchief. Knickers and tights didn’t go back on, just folded up tightly, shoved in a blazer pocket. She stood as still as she could in front of Miss Anderton’s desk, waited for dismissal, waited to go home and cry in the privacy of her own bedroom.

“Here is a letter for your parents. I am sure I do not need to remind you of how seriously I would regard it if you failed to deliver this tonight.”

Alice had forgotten; never been caned by Miss Anderton before and had forgotten about her letters, forgotten that her father had a strap, forgotten that a punishment at school would mean a severe punishment at home, she went white and nearly fainted. Miss Anderton probed and was told of the two for one rule, of the ‘taster’ of three, sympathised but was blunt.

“Well Alice, if you act so foolishly with so little regard for your badge, the school or my rulings you must expect the consequences.”

The next moment was like a badly directed film; the door burst open and in rushed Kirsty. She had been in detention (typically Kirsty) and now desperately sobbed out her story. It was all her fault. Miss Anderton was clinical in her questioning but recognised the truth and the explanation for Alice’s silence and the misunderstanding that Miss Primpster had created by her assumption.

“Alice, what a foolish girl you’ve been. I am afraid you did deserve your punishment; whatever your motive you broke my rule and tried to hide your sister’s folly from me instead of allowing her to stand on her own two feet. However, I am not without sympathy so although the caning will go down in your record I am going to restore you to Senior Prefect.”

“Miss Anderton, I’ll be really grateful if you give me back my badge but please don’t expel Kirsty; she is just plain silly, not bad.”

Miss Anderton was impressed by Alice’s attitude. “No Alice, I will not expel her, but Kirsty, I am going to give you exactly the same caning I just gave your sister. So while Alice goes and stands outside you will remove your blazer, skirt and knickers (fourth years were not allowed to wear tights, only socks) and bend over my desk.”

Alice heard every swish, crack and cry of Kirsty’s caning. She tried hard to feel sorry for her but failed dismally; her throbbing bottom was still too fresh to worry much about Kirsty. After the caning, there was a long silence with just faint sobbing sounds coming through the door; presumably Kirsty was under the clock, her bare legs and bottom wriggling with the pulsing pain while her arms ached from having her hands on her head. Finally Alice was called in.

 Kirsty was red faced with red eyes and finding standing still difficult. Miss Anderton now had two letters in her hand. “Alice I have rewritten your letter to take account of Kirsty’s confession and your reinstatement as Senior Prefect. I have another one here for Kirsty. I expect you realise what a serious matter it would be to fail to hand them to your parents.”

The two girls thanked Miss Anderton and left. There was little said on the way home. They were both steeling themselves for a session with their father’s strap.

The End

Postscript: Alice and Kirsty’s father was most displeased with the girls but was worried about how to proceed. It is all very well making dramatic threats but to give them twenty-four strokes with a nasty strap, especially after a severe twelve stroke caning, would be dangerous and not at all fatherly. He decided in the end to spare the girls any immediate punishment but waited until their bottoms had recovered, then gave them twelve with another twelve a few days later. Alice never needed to be punished again. Kirsty is quite another story.

© Old Tom and Susan Thomas 2013

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