An unusual combination of girls are caned

By Jane Fairweather

“Smoking will not be tolerated at this school, especially when Sixth Formers are the culprits. You, Miss Simpson and Miss Black, are going to have a slippering to remember. You, Miss Black, will go and stand face to the wall, hands on your head. You, Miss Simpson, will come here.”

“Annette Simpson exchanged furtive glances with her friend before walking to the point in the middle of the study that the grey-haired, grey suited Miss Crocker was indicating, large tennis shoe in hand. Still, she thought, she had had the slipper before. It would hurt a lot with Miss Crocker doing it, but it would wear off relatively quickly and she did not wholly dislike the strange afterglow. At least it was not her father’s horribly stinging cane.

“Bend over and put your hands on your knees; and keep still girl, or there will be extra.”

Down she went and put her hands on her knees, which to her irritation seemed to be wobbling. She wondered for a second if her green summer dress would be raised, or not. It was one of Miss Crocker’s foibles, which no one could guess in advance, that when girls were in their summer dresses sometimes she left dresses where they were during a slippering, and sometimes she did not. So, no harm in hoping!

However, then she felt her dress being tucked into the top of her knickers. She felt just how tight her knickers were and she strongly disliked revealing the contours of her private parts, which she had not minded lower down the school. She also could not help being jealous of her best friend, who had a much more solid behind, which would survive what was coming much better. Miss Crocker was supposed to like girls with pretty bottoms, she reflected, which was scarcely her own, which was awful. Or did Miss Crocker have a different opinion? Either way, it was going to hurt with only tight knickers to keep that wretched tennis shoe out.

“Right, young lady, you are going to have six. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Miss Crocker.”

Six with ‘the Crock’ in this mood! She had been expecting four, or just possibly five. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

There was a tremendous whack and it really stung and she swayed slightly, biting back the tears, though that was hard to do.

As usual, ‘the Crock’ took her time, waiting just long enough for each whack to start really hurting. Annette held on to her knees for grim death, conscious how much she was swaying about on her long legs. After the fourth whack she started to sob quietly, whether she wanted to or not. And by the time the sixth whack thumped into her far from large bottom she was crying a lot.

She stood up, slipped her hands inside her knickers and felt the glowing, burning heat.

“That is enough of that, young lady. Hands on your head, against the wall. Miss Black, come here.”

Annette heard her best friend suffer the same demeaning punishment. Elizabeth called out more than she had and started to sob only two whacks in to the punishment, which left Annette feeling very superior.

Then, after ten unpleasant minutes standing against the wall, hands on head, with a burning bottom and hands that were beginning to feel as if they were falling off, the two girls were dismissed, albeit with a firm warning that it would be the cane next time next time they were caught smoking, or anything else, which neither took very seriously as Miss Crocker hardly ever used the cane.

“We’ve both got a free period after lunch and it’s lunch time anyway, and I am on fire.” Elizabeth observed. “Why don’t we slip up to the wood and cool off. We hid those ciggies in the hollow of that elm, and lightning does not strike twice, so we can risk smoking them. I just don’t feel l want to eat anything anyway and everyone is bound to notice we have had it and start asking all sorts of questions; they always do.”

“Yes, I feel the same, but we had better get our blazers to lie on. Anyway, if we get caught with the ciggies ‘the Crock’ might expel us, and I would be quite happy to be out of here. That was one slippering too many!”

So they got their blazers and departed through the games field to the wood, which Sixth Formers were allowed to use, but not the rest of the school.


It was a sunny day for May and quite warm, but Isabella Mackenzie was glad of the cardigan she had thrown over her light summer frock before venturing out into the school grounds for a lunch time stroll; for a cold wind kept intruding on the warmth. At least a lunch time stroll was what she intended to tell any senior member of staff that she collided with. The truth was, she wanted to quickly ring her boyfriend with whom she very secretly shared a flat in the nearby town of Badon Bury, though she knew full well that Miss Crocker would dismiss her for immorality if it came out; and that would be awkward, for Dave was a full time artist with little income as yet, though he worked hard and his work had huge promise, not just in Isabella’s eyes, but also in that of several very reasonable artists. And there was that gallery deal hanging the air. There could just have been something in the post this morning. That would completely alter their finances, not that she had any intention of giving up work, but it would be nice not to be poor.

She strolled over the games field and into the wood, and then quickly to the phone box, though it meant going completely out of the school grounds. There was, it seemed, nothing in the post, so she started back, feeling slightly nervous. The wood, as she well knew, was strictly out of bounds to all girls except the Sixth Form, but somehow she was not quite sure whether that applied to an Art mistress in her first year of teaching; Miss Crocker had several times shouted at her for quite small things as if she was telling off a Junior girl. Still she strode purposefully along, hoping no one was there to wonder why she was walking in quite that direction, revelling in the light pouring through the Spring leaves.

Since she had time in hand, she headed to a pretty glade, which she always fancied as a subject for a Fairy painting of a sort that her boyfriend would have deeply despised; but after all there was more than one artist in the family! Since the glade was away from the obvious paths, it was usually deserted, which was one was one of its charms. However, approaching it today, she had a sense of some alien presence and almost turned away. But something made her go on and she found herself staring at two pairs of black school knickers, each pulled down at the back to reveal two very different but very red female bottoms. Both girls had pulled their green summer dresses above their waists and were lying face down on their blazers. It was Annette Simpson and Elizabeth Black, she realized, who were two of the less reliable current Sixth Formers, which she knew from numerous comments in the Staff Room.

And she could smell cigarette smoke. Strictly, she ought to report them. But that would mean the cane, or the slipper; Miss Crocker was not merciful to girls who broke the rules. And it did look as if they had endured quite a slippering already. Perhaps she ought to tip-toe away and pretend she had not seen them. Miss Crocker might well want to know what her Art mistress had been doing in the wood; and then the whole thing of her living with Dave might come out.

“Hi, Miss Mackenzie. It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

Elizabeth Black was bounding to her feet and adjusting her dress and knickers, cigarette quite shamelessly in hand. Annette followed suit. It was too late for Isabella to disappear. Should she say anything about the cigarettes or pretend she had not seen them? She did not want questions asked about her walking in the wood.

“Nice place to slounge, isn’t it, Miss? We always come here when we can. And it is a good place to cool down when you have had the slipper,” Elizabeth was saying brightly and almost boastfully.

Isabella thought irritably that she did not like the use of slang and made up words like ‘slounge’, and nor did she like the girl showing off about a punishment, which no doubt she had thoroughly deserved.

“Yes, it is a very quiet, pleasant place,” she said as pointedly as she could.

“Would you like a cigarette, Miss?” Annette asked outrageously.

Isabella felt considerably confused. The girl was trying to cover her own crimes by involving her, but on the other hand it was difficult when the last thing that she wanted was to be asked questions about why she herself was in the wood.

Isabella realized Annette had reached down to her blazer and was thrusting the packet towards her, just at the moment she heard heavy footsteps close at hand. She turned and saw Miss Hardingham, the stout deputy headmistress, in her brown tweeds striding towards them with a look of thunder on her face. All too clearly, she had heard what had just been said.

“You two girls will go to the headmistress immediately for smoking and insolence to a member of staff. And I will be telling the headmistress exactly what happened, so don’t try and blag your way out of it.”

The two girls departed looking rather too proud of themselves, Isabella could not help thinking.

“And in god’s name, Miss Mackenzie, why were you letting them offer you cigarettes?” Miss Hardingham was demanding with genuine anger. “I hope you were not about to accept.”

“I didn’t let them offer me cigarettes,” said Isabella. “They were just trying it on. I was just trying to work out what to do about it. Indeed, the only reason I was here is that it is such a lovely quiet spot. I keep thinking I could paint it.”

“Well, I must say I have to agree with you how pretty it is here and for that, to some extent, I forgive you, but really you had better think rather more quickly another time, Miss Mackenzie, if you want to have any authority in this school. Now I think there is only twenty minutes left to the bell, so we had better slip back to the school immediately. And, Miss Mackenzie, I won’t tell the headmistress that you looked to me as if you were about to accept that cigarette, but please don’t let such a thing happen again. And don’t hesitate to come here and paint or sketch, even if I am here, which I sometimes am. I will stay out of your way.”


“Why on earth are you two back so soon?” Miss Crocker observed uneasily. “Presumably, you are here to be praised for a change. I hope so anyway.”

Annette looked at Elizabeth, who shrugged. Annette decided she might as well be the spokeswoman. They were surely going to be expelled anyway, and they had come to the conclusion on the way to the headmistress’s study that they were not too unhappy about it; there was a lot to be said for being out of this horrible place.

“Miss Hardingham caught us smoking in the wood, Miss. Besides…”

“You mean there is even more to it?”

“We were quite rude, I suppose, to Miss Mackenzie. We offered her a cigarette, which I don’t think she really wanted, which made Miss Hardingham even angrier.” Annette said, thinking it would be unkind if Miss Mackenzie lost her job, but including this should make quite sure that they got expelled.

The only question was, would they get the cane as well, but they had concluded on the walk over it was unlikely both ultimate punishments would happen. After all, as Annette had observed, “You cannot get your head chopped off twice.”

“What was Miss Mackenzie doing there?”

“Going for a lunchtime walk in the wood, I imagine, Miss.”

“And you were smoking, and she was about to join in, when Miss Hardingham came along. Is that it?”

“Well, not really, Miss. I don’t think Miss Mackenzie knew quite what to do when she saw us smoking.”

“I shall be having words with Miss Mackenzie. But as for you two, what am I to do with you? I have just given you a very hard slippering, and you bounce back for more.”

“I suppose you will have to expel us, Miss.” Annette said, almost too eagerly.

“And that is what you are expecting too, is it, Miss Simpson?”

“I imagine so, Miss. I don’t suppose we have given you a lot of option.” Elizabeth stated, managing to sound rather less eager than her friend.

“No, I think we have a perfectly good alternative to expulsion; a really sound caning, which you will remember for the rest of your lives.”

“Oh god! Not the cane,” Annette exclaimed. “I have had it from my Father and it really hurts. Please not the cane, Miss! Not on top of that slippering, please!”

“Since you have had some experience of it, Miss Simpson, we will let you go second and stew a little. Hands on your head and face the wall, young lady. Now, Miss Black, if you would be kind enough to put your hands on the far edge of my desk.”

Annette, waiting, would have given a lot to know whether her friend had kept her dress in place. But there was an altogether ominous pause during which the sound of a cane being purposefully swished mingled with the sound of Elizabeth quietly whimpering, which surprised Annette, who had thought her friend was tougher.

Then the cane swished, and Elizabeth shrieked at the top of her voice. Annette shuddered. Elizabeth then seemed to put a stopper on it and there was only the sound of the cane swishing and whacking, and Elizabeth sobbing, till the fourth stroke, when the victim pleaded desperately for it to stop, and then howled at the top of her voice during the remaining two strokes.

There was a rather awful pause during which Annette found herself getting extremely frightened as she realized she was in for six very hard strokes, at least, and her father had only ever given her four moderately severe ones. Though she hated the sting, her father’s punishments only left tramlines which had disappeared relatively quickly and she wondered if there were going to be real bruises this time and shivered at the thought. However, the waiting was finally broken by the headmistress ordering Elizabeth to stand against the wall.

And then it was Annette’s turn. She was so frightened that it all seemed to happen incredibly slowly. The walk across the room seemed to take forever. And then the bending over the desk and the hitching up of her dress and the waiting for the caning to begin seemed to take, if possible, even longer. Then a very severe punishment that raised large welts on the top of her thighs and the lower part of her small bottom, though she felt oddly detached from it. And all through it the sound of her own voice shrieking. She barely knew what she was doing as she staggered to the wall and put her hands on her head and stood there with her bottom aching and burning worse than any punishment she had ever known, and she had had quite a few.

But eventually it came to an end and the girls staggered to their study and rather haughtily examined one another’s welts, which were impressive, determined to laugh it off. But then pain seemed to take over, despite the haughtiness, and they cuddled desperately till the worst of it went and then began a certain mutual exploration they had been on the verge of for weeks. Was this growing up, Annette wondered. Perhaps this was what would really get them expelled.


“The headmistress wishes to see you immediately, Miss Mackenzie. I will watch your class.”

“Oh god!” Thought Isabella. “Not even ‘please’, or ‘I would be grateful if’.”

And the old secretary, who was as grey haired as Miss Crocker, was glaring at her. Isabella felt as if she was some sort of criminal. She felt sure she was going to be dismissed. Miss Hardingham must have told on her after all, the cow. She must not be dismissed; she and Dave desperately needed her wage; it was their only real income.

And then, as she staggered along the corridor feeling almost as bad as if she had been caned, the brave side of Isabella Mackenzie asserted itself against her normal tendency to act like a mouse. Was it impossible to ask to be caned as an alternative for dismissal? She was not that much older than the wretched pair who had landed her in this. If it came to it, she would ask outright to be punished like Anne Black and Elizabeth Simpson. Lord knows if it would be humiliating, and her pride ached at the thought, but at least she would ask.

Then, only a couple of minutes later, she found herself standing in front of the headmistress’s desk having her conduct during the cigarette incident in the wood examined in painful detail. Not for the first time it was all too clear that the headmistress had a very low view of her Art mistress and the lecture was ferocious.

Isabella kept hoping that the lecture was all there was, and after it she could just resume her duties as if nothing had happened.

However, the headmistress suddenly bleakly stated: “I see little point in retaining a mistress who has so little authority, Miss Mackenszie. I shall not be re-appointing you next year.”

“But Miss Crocker, I have learned my lesson. I won’t let such a dreadful mistake happen again. I do really need the job. You could punish me in some way.”

“It would be pointless to dock your wages, we pay you barely enough as it is.”

“There must be some other way, Miss Crocker. I want to stay and get better at this job. I know you caned the other two girls. Please, couldn’t you do the same for me? Please, Miss Crocker!”

Miss Crocker could not help reflecting on the sudden stubborn courage of this unusual young woman, who she had always thought rather a wimp, but never been able to quite place.

“We could go down the same road as your fellow conspirators have already experienced. It would not be that unfair. I am fairly sure from what Miss Hardingham says you were going to take that cigarette and join in smoking it with those two very naughty girls. Though to be fair, Miss Hardingham said of course exactly the opposite. But then my deputy is inclined to be kind.”

“I will go down that road, Miss Crocker.” Isabella stated with surprising determination. “If you are prepared to go down it. But my knickers are rather thin to be caned in and I’d rather keep my dress on for decency’s sake. I’d rather take my own knickers down, if you don’t mind.”

Miss Crocker wondered if this had been thought about before Isabella Mackenzie had entered the room. Still, she was not averse to seeing such a pretty young woman bent over for punishment, and anyway it seemed in its way quite just, so she went and got the cane, intending to enjoy herself a little ordering the girl to lower her knickers and bend over.

To her annoyance, she turned round and realized that Isabella had lowered her very stylish directoire knickers to her knees and was touching her toes She stood back and applied four hard strokes to a behind that, even with a dress over it, looked very pretty. Isabella reacted a little with various ouches and ah’s, but despite a flushed and rather tearful face at the end of it, not to mention a slight slowness in pulling her knickers up, kept her composure surprisingly well.

“Well, Miss Mackenzie, let us hope you have learned your lesson and we will have you at this school for a fair number of years to come,” the Headmistress stated, realizing with some amusement that she was going from thinking the Art mistress a menace and a wimp to having a definite crush on her; there was something rather endearing about this odd creature.


“Hi Doll!” Dave was saying as she came through the door. “Good day, was it?”

“Oh, three girls got the cane.” She said, reflecting her bottom had not been improved by cycling five miles, but on the other hand she felt rather aroused.

“You’re kidding. What for?”

“Oh, being rude and smoking for the second time. Whole school was buzzing with it.”

“Did you get to see it?”

“No, of course I didn’t. But they got it on their backsides, which should appeal to you.”

She wondered from the look on his face if he was wondering if she had been one of the girls, but probably he didn’t, or most likely he was imagining the possibility she might have been one of the culprits who had had to bend over.

If he did work it out, what would he do? She had, after all, nearly thrown away most of their joint income. Would it mean a spanking? Not that he ever really hurt her, it was just horseplay and teasing and she quite liked it within limits. She almost suggested a visit to the bedroom, there and then.

But, on the other hand, he might spot her marks and she was not quite sure how he would react. So, in the end, Miss Isabella Mackenzie went and admired her lover’s latest, a water colour abstract, which she was pleased to see was genuinely unusual and good. And after this they made a meal together and sat down and ate it, while Isabella wriggled a good deal and complained non-stop that all this cycling to and from work was making her sore.

Then, when finally they got into bed to go to sleep Dave suddenly said: “I wonder what it was like.”

“What was what like?”

“Those girls being caned.”

“You always do wonder about things like that. Be grateful I teach at a school where things like that really do happen and I can tell you at least something about it. Anyway, they are keeping me on for next year so, my love, we shall have some bread; and I could swear my old dyke of a headmistress has taken a shine to me, which might come in useful. She likes my bum, I think.”

“Yippee! A headmistress with taste,” Dave exclaimed, pulled her to him and kissed her passionately, to which she responded in kind.

The End

© Jane Fairweather 2020

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