Valentine’s Day

Four girls who think they’re above the school rules are finally brought to book.

By Henry Jones

It was the fourteenth of February and there was the usual Monday morning chatter as twenty eighteen year old girls changed for their PE session. The sporty ones chatted about their activities over the weekend, the studious ones fretted about lost study time, while others giggled together about what they had got up to with boyfriends and boasted about how many cards they’d received. There were four girls, however, who didn’t join in with any of this; they just changed into shorts and vests in morose silence.

These four, who called themselves ‘The Valentines’, had spent an uncomfortable weekend worrying about this very day. The previous Friday, they had been called in to the Headmaster’s study over accusations of bullying. Three girls in another class had finally plucked up the nerve to go to their teacher and make a complaint about their treatment at the hands of the Valentines. The three, dowdy in their uniforms, had been looked on by the Valentines as natural victims; they called them Skags. Clarrie, whose mother was very strict with her, was made to wear ankle length dresses and high necked blouses. Mary had bright red frizzy hair and glasses, and Petra had stammer when she was nervous.

The interview in the study had been an uncomfortable one for the Valentines, with accusations and denials flying. In the end, the Headmaster had decided that they WERE guilty of bullying and tormenting the three and they were sent back to class while their punishment was decided. At the end of the school day, no decision had been made, so the four were sent home to fret for the weekend.

So, on that most romantic and, to their minds, the most inappropriate of days, the four of them sat round their charismatic leader and pondered their fate. They had several things in common. They were all very good looking, even beautiful, with gorgeous faces and stunning figures. They were also arrogant in the extreme, careless of authority and thought their beauty lifted them above the rules, rules that in their minds only applied to others.

Justine was a tall willowy girl with pale blue eyes, her flowing white blonde hair now tied up in a pony tail. Known by the boys as ‘The Ice Maiden’, she never wore skirts, just tight, bottom-moulding trousers. She sat now, wearing a sleeveless T shirt and form-fitting white shorts. Next to her was Katrin; she insisted on that spelling, a voluptuous auburn haired girl with stunning green eyes, eyes that promised the world in their emerald depths. Known for her wearing of provocatively short skirts, she now had on an extremely short pair of green shorts and a yellow T shirt. Megan, a slender black haired girl with pale olive skin sat beside her. Dark eyes looked out of her high cheek-boned face, eyes that could open wide with passion or narrow to slits of fury. She sat now, in black shorts and T shirt, glaring round the room, blaming everyone else for the predicament she found herself in.

Cindy, the self styled leader of The Valentines, had all the advantages. A wealthy family, stunning good looks and a budding rock star boyfriend. Blonde and blue eyed, she alone was quite sure that no serious punishment would come her way. Her father’s money would see to that. She wore her gym kit carelessly, frayed white shorts and a white halter top with her hair tousled round her shoulders, as if she’d just got out of bed. The four of them had another thing in common. They had never been seriously disciplined, not even with a slap to the legs. They had always done as they liked and believed that state of affairs would carry on.

The girls had been changed for about five minutes when the changing room door opened and Miss Dickinson, the PE teacher, came in. Slender, of average height and with short brown hair, she wore an immaculate University track suit. However, the baggy clothes concealed some impressive muscles. A tennis player and a rower at University, she had all the right attributes for what she was about to do.

“Megan, Katherine, Justine, Cindy, step out here,” she said in her most authoritative voice. “I need to speak to you.”

Muttering to each other, the four got up and stood in a line before her. Justine, openly nervous; Katrin and Megan, a shade sullen; and Cindy, blithely confident.

“We have had yet another conference this morning about your disgraceful behaviour.

“It went on and on until I pointed out one or two things to the more liberal members of staff. We then had a conference call with ALL your parents and we have decided on your punishment. The first course of action that was mooted was that you all be suspended until the end of term. I pointed out that you would then miss your exams, so that was scrapped.

“I then asked a simple question that made everyone think and in the end, it was agreed. Before I tell you what the punishment will be and the question I asked, I must remind you that you have all shown yourselves, as well as the rest of the class, to be firm believers in equality, am I right?”

There was silence before Cindy replied in her sneering voice: “Of course we’re equal, how can any one think different?”

“Thank you Cindy for that confirmation. The question I asked was, what would you do if it had been four boys who had been involved? Of course, the answer to that was quite clear, six good hard strokes of the cane across their backsides! So that, ladies, is what you are going to receive, right now!”

There were gasps from all round the room. Three pairs of hands flew to the seats of three pairs of shorts. Cindy, however, was furious.

“You lying bitch,” she yelled. “My dad would never agree to that! I’m going to get him on the phone now and when he proves you wrong, I’ll get you sacked, Miss High and Mighty! I tell you, you’re not whacking MY backside!”

“I thought that was how you might react,” said Miss Dickinson mildly. “So I have my phone here if you want to use it.”

Cindy snatched the phone and angrily stabbed the number into the keypad. After a couple of rings, it was answered.

“Dad, the Dickinson bitch says she’s going to cane me and she says you agreed? WHAT? You didn’t! Tell me you Didn’t! NO, DAD, NO, you can’t do that, not to ME! Dad? Dad?”

She didn’t look quite so confident when she handed the phone back; she looked really scared.

“Well, Cindy, what did your father say?”

“He said, he said,” she stuttered. “That he’d agreed to a caning.”

“He said something else as well, didn’t he? DIDN’T HE?”

“Yes, Miss Dickinson,” Cindy replied in a small voice. “He said that this evening he was going to give me the spanking of my life.”

“Yes, I know, because he told us this morning. I should also tell you other three, ALL you parents said the same thing. There’s going to be four naughty girls getting good sound spankings this afternoon, so there is going to be four very hot bottoms in town tonight!”

The four Valentines looked at each other and then gazed at the floor. None of them had anticipated a caning and thought nervously about the seats of their shorts as well as the promises of parental discipline. Miss Dickinson looked at them for a moment before calling out.

“You can come in now girls.”

The door opened and three girls, the three the Valentines had bullied, came in. The first two carried a chair each, while the third had the instrument itself; the Headmaster’s cane! None of the girls had ever seen it before and it looked terrifying with its swishy length and crook handle. The two chairs were placed back to back in the middle of the room and Miss Dickinson took the cane and swished it a couple of times while gazing at the four downcast girls before her.

After a pause, she said: “Now, I think it’s time to stripe some behinds. Justine, I’ll start with you. Come here and kneel on this chair and bend over the back. The girls you had a hand in bullying will assist you to stay put. I don’t want you jumping about. Don’t worry about strokes going astray, I’ve practised all this weekend.”

What she didn’t say was how she’d practised. Her partner, a few years younger than her, had agreed to play the naughty schoolboy and now sported a good number of lines on his person. She had caned him on his trousers, his underpants and, most enjoyably for her at least, on his bare backside.

When Justine was in place, wrists held, her head down on the chair seat and her firm round bottom cocked high over the chair back, Miss Dickinson stepped forward with the cane held above her head.

As she moved, she brought it sweeping down to land dead centre with a resounding THWAAACCCKKK! Justine jerked at the impact and, to everyone’s surprise, let out a shrill YEEEOOOWWW. Sure that the girl had never felt anything like it before, Miss Dickinson waited for her writhing to settle down before, THWAAACCCKKK, the cane slashed across her bottom for the second time. Again Justine jerked and gave vent to an even shriller YEEEOOOWWW. Weeping after three strokes and howling properly after six, Justine was let down off the chair, then sent to stand, hands on her head, in the corner.

Katrin was next to be caned. While she was less vocal than her predecessor over the chairs, she was still in floods of tears when she joined her in the corner. Megan, for all her tomboy image and sullen looks, was shaking and crying when it was her turn to bend over. The two girls had difficulty holding her as the cane made a very deep impression on her bottom. She shrieked loudly after every stroke and was sobbing uncontrollably when she joined her friends against the wall.

Then it was Cindy’s turn. At first, she refused to get on the chair and it took a bit of a tussle before she was bent over. Her shorts were very frayed and when she was in position they rode up and exposed a lot of skin.

As she waited, trembling, for the first stroke of the cane, she heard a girl say to her neighbour: “I think our Cindy’s going to regret those shorts. Look, she’s nearly bare!”

A moment later the cane landed and confirmed Cindy’s fear; it DID land on bare skin. How she howled as Miss Dickinson caned her. The loud THWAAACCCKKK, of the cane on her bottom and her shrill YEEEOOOWWW after each searing stroke, rattled the windows and by the time she’d had her sixth one, she was crying loudly. Thinking her punishment was over, Cindy tried to get down off the chair but the girls holding her didn’t let go.

“Let me up, let me up!” She sobbed.

“Not just yet, my girl,” said the teacher. “I might have dealt with your bullying; now I’m going to deal with your gross disrespect. Two more strokes!”

Cindy’s wail when she heard this awful news was eclipsed by her howl when stroke number seven lashed across her bottom. Her YEEEOOOOOWWWW after the final stripe was almost shrill enough to break glass. Crying just like her friends, she then had to stumble across to the wall and stand with them. They stood there while the rest of the class entered the gym, then Miss Dickinson allowed them to turn round.

“Now,” she said. “I trust you’ve all learned a lesson from that. You’ve also been an example to the rest of the girls in this school. Your punishment today has shown them that bullying will NOT be countenanced from boys or girls and that girls are equal when it comes to caning. Now get your striped little behinds in to the gym; I’m going to work you like you’ve never been worked, sore bottoms or not!”

The rest of the school day must have been purgatory for the four Valentines. They would have had the utmost difficulty sitting down and what had they got to look forward to? Parental corporal punishment, and they must have thought very nervously about just how severe it would be.

Much to Miss Dickinson’s surprise, the four turned up, looking very subdued, for school the following day. What she did notice was that Justine was wearing a skirt, not her trademark bottom huggers, and that Katharine’s skirt was a demure one inch above her knees. All four of them, she saw, were in strict school uniform; grey skirts, white blouses and grey blazers. None wore any make up and they all wore the straw boater that all the girls hated.

‘That must be their parents doing,’ she thought. ‘Instilling some discipline!’

It was later that morning when Miss Dickinson was sat marking essays in an empty classroom, that she heard the Valentines talking outside her window. They had no idea she was there and so she eavesdropped shamelessly on their conversation.

“Oh Dad really spanked me,” Cindy was saying. “He took my pants down, put me across his knee and smacked my bare bum! He smacked REALLY hard and he said that if I got in trouble again, I’d get the slipper and on the bare too!”

“Oh, I got it worse than that,” said Justine. “My mum pulled my trousers down in front of my sisters, made me bend over the end of my bed and whacked my bottom with a wooden hairbrush. I only had a thong on so I got it bare as well!”

“My mum took dad’s belt to me,” whined Katrin. “And on my bare backside! I couldn’t sit down when she’d done!”

“You all think you got it bad!” That was Megan. “My dad took me round to old Mrs Kennedy. You know, she’s a retired Headmistress. Well, you know what she did? She caned me. She caned me on my bare bottom. She gave me twelve because dad told her I was a bully. Look at this!”

She must have lifted her skirt because there was a chorus of ‘OOOOHHH’s. There was a moments silence before Cindy spoke again.

“What are we going to do now?” She asked.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” replied Justine. “But for me there’ll be no more Valentines. My mum told me after she’d whacked me that she’d be telling the school to let Miss Dickinson give me another caning if I misbehaved again.”

The bell for the end of break rang over a chorus of: “Me too,” as Miss Dickinson sat back in her chair. It seemed like her plan had worked after all. She smiled to herself and thought about the coming weekend. Perhaps her partner would consent to being a naughty boy again. After all, she might be needing the practice.

The End

© Henry Jones 2015


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