A girl struggles not to reveal the name of her accomplice
By Joanna Jones
Miss Young looked across severely at the eighteen-year-old sixth former in front of her.
“So,” she asked coldly, “since when did going to the pub at lunch for a drink become acceptable sixth form practice?”
Sarah looked at the desk in front of her and fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, Miss.” She replied rather inconsequentially.
Miss Young gazed thoughtfully at the downcast young lady in front of her, who was clearly unable to meet her in the eye. She decided there was little point to giving her a long telling off.
“Well, I am sure you know the punishment. I have made that clear to you and your colleagues on more occasions that I can remember. You are going to be caned for that, young lady.”
Sarah bit her lip as the punishment she expected as soon as she had been stopped on her entry back to school was confirmed. She thought for a moment to plead, but instead allowed her shoulders to slump and resigned herself to her fate. “I am very sorry, Miss,” she muttered.
“However, first you are going to tell me the name of the girl you were with.”
Sarah, normally proud of her five-foot-ten frame and blonde hair, silently cursed the fact she was so distinctive compared to her shorter, mousy-brown-haired friend, who clearly had not been recognised. She glanced up at the Deputy Headmistress; surely she did not seriously expect her to dump on her friend?
There was a very long pause. Eventually, when Sarah could stand it no longer, she replied. “I-I can’t remember.” She lied.
Her face reddened under the Deputy Head’s glare of rising irritation. It had been a stupid thing to say, she realised, such an obvious lie.
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that, do you? Well perhaps I can encourage your memory.”
With that she crossed to her cupboard and pulled out a slipper. “Bend over my desk!”
Sarah gulped, but obediently did as she was told, feeling her slacks tighten as she did so. She then felt the tail of her blazer being flipped out of the way before… Bam!
Sarah felt the sting suffuse over her left buttock, quickly followed by a similar sting in her right as the slipper slapped down again. She bit her lip, having forgotten just how much that hard plastic sole could hurt.
Two more slaps followed, right at the base of her bottom, leading to mild gasps from the sixth former.
The Deputy Headmistress paced back around the desk. “Stand up!” She demanded.
Sarah slowly stood, feeling the pain change as the muscles in her bottom contracted. That wasn’t too bad, she thought, a price worth paying for keeping Helen out of it, and her credibility with her friends intact.
“So, have I jogged your memory then?” Enquired Miss Young coolly.
Sarah bit her lip and took a much more non-committal approach this time. She hung her head submissively and replied, “Sorry, Miss. I can’t say.”
The older lady pursed her lips and, after a tension inducing pause, picked the slipper up off her desk and said, “So you do remember then?”
When Sarah did not respond but continued to stare abjectly at the floor, she continued. “Very well, take those trousers down, clearly I need to try harder.”
Sarah’s eyes went round as she realised that she was now going to be spanked again, this time across her knickers.
Very slowly her hands went to her stomach and unclipped the waist band of her slacks.
Reluctantly she unzipped the fly and pushed the garment to her knees, revealing a pair of flimsy white panties. As Miss Young flexed the slipper between her hands, she shivered in anticipation before resignedly resuming her position bent over the Deputy Headmistress’s desk. Moments later, the blazer tail was being flipped up out of the way once more.
Sarah grunted as the blow crashed down; that certainly really stung. A second blow given equally hard caused a small squeak as well as a grunt to escape her. That slipper was not just stinging, it was now actually jolly painful!
“Oo-oo-h,” she squealed as, after a pause, two more sharp slipper blows landed in quick succession.
Sarah was now breathing deeply to cope with the pain in her bottom, eight slipper strokes was more than she had had before, and she was not enjoying this new experience.
“So, are you going to give me a name or not?” Asked Miss Young coldly as she paced around her desk.
“Sorry, I really can’t.” Gasped Sarah, wondering if she could stand, then finding a gentle hand downward on her shoulder clearly indicating that was not an option.
“Right, so then we must continue.” Replied the teacher harshly.
Suddenly Sarah felt a tug at her waist and her knickers moved uncomfortably upwards, clearly exposing much of the reddened flesh of her bottom.
Two blows landed in quick succession on bare lower parts of her bottom, eliciting two strong squeals of pain.
“Well, ’remembered’ yet?” Enquired Miss Young coldly. After a silent pause she continued. “No? Well.”
The slipper landed twice, very hard, on Sarah’s rear, causing a prolonged wail and a first tear to appear, followed by a sniff as she caught her breath. Her bottom felt very tender now as she desperately held on.
“I am going to get a name out of you, Sarah Carrington. It is better you tell me now, you know.” Continued Miss Young implacably.
“Please, please, no miss,” sniffed Sarah miserably. Her bottom was really throbbing.
Miss Young put her left hand on the small of the eighteen-year-old girl’s back. Miss Carrington seemed to be weakening. Perhaps.
She crashed the slipper down six times, as hard and as fast as she could. Sarah found herself screeching and writhing over the desk as the onslaught lit up her bottom, now looking a rather painful crimson red, with some darker marks from the slipper’s edge.
Sarah now had tears running down her cheeks as the wails subsided into moans. In the midst, she’d nearly shouted out the name, but somehow she’d managed to hold it in.
Miss Young looked down on the miserable sixth former, who clearly was very stubborn indeed.
“Alright.” She said. And with that she went to her cupboard and picked out a cane.
Sarah saw her do so out of her haze of tears. A relief went through her that she had survived, coupled with a dreadful fear that she now had the caning for her pub visit ahead.
A few moments later she heard the dreadful hiss, and then the awful pain as the cane cut deep into the lowest, most bruised part of her bottom.
Her screech was from the core of her being as she clung to the desk.
The second landed nearby, slightly higher, causing her to jump up and put her hands onto her rear as she gave a loud howl and looked pleadingly her chastiser.
“So, are you going to give me a name, then, or shall we carry on?” Asked Miss Young. “I am going to get that name from you. I will have both you and her in my office tomorrow morning for your punishment for going to The Red Deer, even if it takes me all afternoon to spank it out of you.”
Sarah suddenly realised with horror that she was not yet being punished for the pub, and felt utterly sick.
“Please, please don’t.” she whimpered miserably as her hands caressed her bottom.
“The name, or you can bend over once again,” was the implacable reply. Miss Young then chose to twist the knife in a little. “And I should warn you that the sorer your bottom is now the more sensitive it will be when you get your thrashing in the morning. And don’t think I am running out of options: while perhaps I can only give your bottom a maximum of eight with the cane in any one day, I could warm your hands too, and/or go back to the slipper if necessary. I am assured that the slipper on a freshly caned bottom can be particularly effective.”
Sarah, shocked at the Deputy Headmistress’s determination, was now in a real quandary. She desperately did not want to be a tell-tale, but did she have any choice?
“Please, don’t miss.” She begged through the tears she could not control.
Miss Young pursed her lips once again and, after a long pause for the girl to consider her foolishness, turned the unresisting Sarah round and back over the desk.
A vicious cut was met with a howl from Sarah as she felt the cane slice hard into the middle of her bottom above the second stroke. With her knickers having been tugged up, this one actually was the first cane stroke to land on cotton rather than bare flesh. However, one would not have guessed that from the girl’s reaction. Sarah again surged up at the onslaught of pain, but this time found a hand suddenly on her back forcing her body unceremoniously back onto the desk.
Moaning, she slowly allowed her hands to grip the far side once again.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The cane landed three times very quickly, working down from the lower part of Sarah’s buttock and onto the crease with her thigh. The head had kept her left hand pushing down on her back to stop the girl struggling up, which may have reduced the effectiveness of the cane a little, but it was still agony for poor Sarah.
“It, it was Helen Dalton.” She wailed, just as the Headmistress landed the fourth quick-fire blow on the tops of her thighs, leading to a final scream before a broken Sarah collapsed down on the desk and sobbed uncontrollably.
“Finally!” Sighed the Deputy Headmistress loudly, with some private relief that the battle of wills was over as she let the cane fall onto the desk with a clatter. “Now get your trousers up and pull yourself together!”
Slowly Sarah complied with the first request, lifting herself gently from the desk, and gave her poor dreadfully sore knickers a brief rub, feeling the raised ridges from the cane as she gently caressed the leg elastic down into place. Then she crouched to grab her slacks from her ankles and slowly ease them back up over her bottom. The second request was much harder as she remained sobbing brokenly, now with her hands under the bottom of her blazer, caressing the source of her misery through the fabric of the grey material of her slacks. Through glazed eyes, she found herself watching Miss Young putting an entry into the school punishment book, indicating seven strokes of the cane for ‘Insubordination’. Apparently the eighteen (though Sarah herself had lost count) whacks of the slipper before did not merit noting, despite the horrible throbbing that they had induced before the caning part had even begun.
She was still crying and cradling her bottom as her inquisitor looked up at her, then said: “Now, you are in A-level Biology, I believe; follow me.”
For the miserable Sarah, the brisk pace set by Miss Young was painful to keep up with as she scurried to follow her to the science block.
Still crying, she followed Miss Young into her Biology teacher, Mrs Thomson’s, room where a clatter of stools as her sixth form colleagues all stood to acknowledge the Deputy announced their arrival.
“Sit down.” Miss Young ordered brusquely to the class, then continued once the shuffling of the stools had died down. “As you can see, Sarah Carrington has recently had an extremely unpleasant experience in my office. The reason was her strong, but rather silly, reluctance to divulge the name of the friend who accompanied her to The Red Deer this lunchtime. However, after a certain amount of persuasion, I can inform you that Miss Helen Dalton, yes you,” flicking her eyes at the girl concerned, “shall be accompanying Miss Carrington to my office tomorrow morning, where I shall endeavour to explain why the pub is off-limits to school students, even those who are of age, more forcefully.”
Helen looked angrily at Sarah as the class all turned from their miserable classmate standing behind the Deputy to look at her. She was still too shocked to discover that she was to be punished tomorrow to realise just how badly Sarah had been hurt trying futilely to protect her.
“Thank you, Mrs Thomson, for your time.” She finished and with that then left the tearful Sarah and exited the classroom.
Mrs Thomson looked at Sarah and said resignedly, “Right class, settle down. Sarah, go and sit down and get your book out, we are all on page 184.”
It took her two attempts to gently put her bottom on the hard wooden chair next to Helen, who rather ignored her, doing nothing to help her friend’s sense of utter failure.
Later, in the privacy of a classroom located in a far corner of the school where no teacher was likely to be found at the interval, Sarah reluctantly let a few of her classmates see the damage and despondently tell them how the Head had ‘persuaded’ her. It was only then that Helen found she could accept that she probably would have succumbed too, possibly even earlier, and grudgingly appreciated the effort her friend had gone to try to prevent her being caned. Further, although she was now due a caning tomorrow, at least it was not going to be on an already very sore, black and blue bruised rear.
It was a caning the following morning that Sarah found every bit as dreadful as she feared as the stick cracked down six further times onto an old pair of thicker navy blue knickers that, sadly, seemed to make absolutely no difference whatsoever to the excruciating pain that Miss Young was intent on imparting to her.
© Joanna Jones 2020