“Wouldn’t you like to see that get whacked?”

“Too right,” came the chorus of agreement.

The ‘that’ in question was Amanda Simpson’s pert bottom which was thrust out invitingly towards us as she leaned forward, deep in conversation, over her friend’s desk, causing the grey material of her school skirt to tighten over its delightful contours.

Those passing comment on it were myself, Jennifer Pearce, or rather Jenny as I preferred to be called, and my three friends Alice, Katie and Lisa. All four of us and Amanda are classmates in the lower sixth of St Marys School for girls. St Marys is, shall I say, still a very traditional school that is gradually trying to bring itself into the present day. It was established over fifty years ago and has an enviable academic record which prompts many a parent such as my own to send their precious daughters here for the best possible education. I might be about to sound ungrateful but I am not, I appreciate the advantages it has given me although there are two aspects that I really cannot abide.

Firstly, we have to wear a traditional-style school uniform, even in the sixth form; blazer, blouse, skirt and, to my horror, white knee-length socks! Oh, how I envy the girls at the nearby comprehensive school where casual dress is allowed in the upper school. The second is the continued use of corporal punishment which has long been disowned in many other schools. To be fair, St Marys is gradually trying to wean itself away from its use with detentions now the most common form of punishment, however the slipper, or more accurately the plimsoll, and the cane are still the favoured method of correction for Miss Henshaw, the headmistress, her deputy and within the PE department. Ah yes, the PE department where Miss Roberts, our gym teacher, seems to think that the application of plimsoll to backside is a necessary requirement of the curriculum.

Which brings me back to Amanda’s pert little bottom thrust out so temptingly towards us. It is not unusual for a girl to go through school without feeling the sting of the cane across her buttocks. Out of my three friends and I, only Lisa has received the cane back in the third year for skipping school early one afternoon. She got three strokes and we all ushered her into the toilets and got her to lower her knickers so we could inspect the damage. The three vivid red stripes, even though she’d been caned over her knickers, shocked me and made me resolve to avoid such a punishment myself if at all possible, something I’d been successful at doing so far.

The plimsoll, though, was a different matter, and it was rare indeed for a girl not to receive at least one slippering during her time at school. Of the four of us, Lisa held the prize for receiving the most, not that she was particularly badly behaved, she just had a habit of landing herself in trouble often for quite trivial things. I had received one slippering from Miss Henshaw when I was in the fourth form that had left me in tears, and I had been slippered during gym lessons, the most memorable being when a few of us had been misbehaving and were made to strip for the showers, then before entering touch our toes for a couple of hard whacks on our bare bottoms.

Amanda, however, was one of those rare girls that had never received any form of physical punishment, and still had a virgin bottom when it came to getting a whacking. It was not as if she was a goody-goody either; she misbehaved and got into as many scrapes as the rest of us but had an uncanny knack of not getting caught, of not being there when a teacher arrived, of always getting away with it. She even had the rare distinction of never having been slippered in a gym lesson as she was a favourite of Miss Roberts due to her excelling at games and being captain of the school hockey team. Never once had she had to touch her toes during a gym lesson for the plimsoll to become acquainted with her bottom.

“We could put some ciggies in her bag, make sure they were found,” Alice suggested.

“No. She’d only tell old Henshaw they’d been planted there and she’d probably believe her. It would have to be something she couldn’t wriggle out of,” replied Katie.

There was a silence as everybody thought hard.

“What if she was involved in a fight, that would get her the slipper,” Lisa finally suggested.

“Maybe, but that’s hardly likely to happen, is it? Can you really imagine her getting into a scrap with someone?” Katie again poured cold water on the suggestion, but Lisa wasn’t finished.

“What if one of us started it, she’d be in one then.”

“Great idea Lisa, that means one of us would get whacked too!” Alice replied.

“Yes, but wouldn’t it be worth it to know she’d finally got her bum warmed. You might get to watch it too.”

Before any of us could disagree, Lisa had torn a page out of her notebook, ripped it into four, scribbled a cross on one of the pieces, and then screwed them all up into balls and shook them about in her hands. She then opened her hands up.

“One each, whoever gets the cross does the deed.”

Reluctantly, we each took a piece of paper and opened them up. There, on the one in my hand, was the dreaded cross.

“It’s Jenny. Hard luck, but you have to take one for the team.”

“Yeah, marvellous. I can’t wait.”

Although I was as keen as the others to finally see Amanda get a slippering, I was even less keen on my own bottom getting a slippering too. I hoped that the idea would be forgotten about and that my ‘taking one for the team’ would not be required. However, I was to be disappointed.

At lunchtime the following day, opportunity knocked. The four of us were walking along the corridor and there, coming towards us, was Amanda.

“Hey Jenny, here she is. It’s your chance. You can do it,” enthused Lisa.

The other three dropped back, leaving me to approach Amanda on my own. As we got level I deliberately barged into her, knocking her to the side.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Amanda complained.

“It’s not me that should be watching, it’s you. You barged into me,” I replied.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

With that, I pushed her in the chest backwards. Whether I pushed her harder than I intended to, or whether she was just off balance, I don’t know, but she staggered backwards, grabbing my blazer as she did so, and as she fell she pulled me down on top of her. That was it, we were then rolling around on the floor together, grabbing at each other’s clothes, although in truth not doing anything to really hurt one another.

“What on earth! Stop this at once!”

I recognised the voice instantly. Of all the people to catch us, it was Miss Henshaw.

“Stand up, the pair of you!”

Amanda and I got to our feet. We were both rather dishevelled. Amanda’s skirt was up round her waist, her thighs and knickers on view, and the buttons on my blouse had come undone showing my bra and cleavage to all who observed.

“Sort your clothing out and then get to my office this instant! The rest of you, move along, the show’s over. And walk, don’t run.”

A small gathering had formed around us to watch the spectacle, which now started to disperse. I fastened my blouse up and dusted my blazer down and then started to make my way down the corridor alongside Amanda towards Miss Henshaw’s office. As we passed my three friends, Lisa hissed to me.

“Well done, that was quite impressive.”

I was not in the mood to acknowledge her. Amanda and I walked together in silence, the only sound being of Miss Henshaw’s shoes as they clicked on the hard flooring as she followed us at a near distance. We stopped at the door of her office and Miss Henshaw stepped past us and opened it.

“In!” was the curt command.

We both entered and stood in front of the large oak desk while Miss Henshaw went and stood behind it. I tried to recall the last time I had been in her office and realised I had not been there since my slippering from her; not a good omen.

“Right, so what was that disgraceful behaviour all about?”

Neither of us spoke, but just shuffled uncomfortably.

“Well come on, it can’t have been about nothing, tell me.”

“She pushed me, Miss,” Amanda finally offered.

“No I didn’t, you pushed me,” I countered.

“I did not.”

“Oh really, that’s enough! It’s like a pantomime act. I couldn’t care less who pushed whom, I will not have two girls rolling around on the floor like two drunken sailors. You’re in the sixth form, for goodness sake, what sort of example do you think you are setting for the junior girls? I expect far more from the pair of you.”

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Amanda and I both replied in unison.

“Yes, you will both be sorry by the time I’ve finished with you. I’ve a good mind to cane the pair of you, given that you’re sixth formers, and it’s still not out the question. Amanda, I’m particularly surprised at your behaviour. I don’t think I’ve ever had cause to punish you before, have I?”

“No, Miss. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Good, I hope it doesn’t. Only because you have not been punished before, and have had up to now an excellent disciplinary record, I will not cane you on this occasion, but rest assured that if there is ever a repeat of this sort of nonsense you will get a severe caning. Understand?”

“Yes Miss, thank you Miss.”

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet, Amanda, because if you think you are getting off scot free with just a telling-off you are very much mistaken. I intend to give you a good slippering instead, one that you will remember in the future, and you will not be sitting comfortably this afternoon, I can assure you.”

Amanda’s expression dropped, I think for one moment she thought she was once again going to get away with it, but it seemed our plan had worked and her bottom was finally going to find out what the plimsoll felt like. However, there was still my fate to resolve as Miss Henshaw turned to me.

“As for you, young lady, you can count yourself extremely lucky. If it wasn’t for Amanda’s exemplary disciplinary record I would be giving you a good caning now for what I just witnessed. However, I can’t treat the two of you differently, so you will be getting the slipper too, but I intend to make it a slippering of the very best that will make this afternoon extremely uncomfortable for you too.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

Thank you? What was I thanking her for? That she was about to give my bottom a roasting? I was confused. On the one hand I was grateful that I wasn’t getting a caning, something that none of us in our planning had anticipated, but I was still going to get a damn good slippering which did not fill me with glee, even at my age. Lisa had a lot to answer for and I would think of a way to get my own back somehow.

“Right, get your blazers and skirts off and place them on that table over there.”

Amanda and I made our way to a small table beneath the window and removed our blazers and skirts, and then made our way back in front of Miss Henshaw’s desk. I stood, now in blouse, knickers and socks, hands clasped in front of me, very aware of my lack of a skirt and feeling rather vulnerable.

Miss Henshaw opened a drawer in her desk and took out a large white plimsoll. It was more a dirty grey than white, and had obviously seen better days, it’s top a little threadbare, but still with a solid rubber sole that would soon be inflicting its message on to our bottoms.

“Who wants to be first?”

Neither of us moved. Butterflies had appeared fluttering in my stomach, and if I was nervous I could only wonder how Amanda was feeling, about to get her first ever slippering after all this time.

“Very well,” said Miss Henshaw impatiently. “We’ll have you, Amanda. Jennifer, go back and stand against the wall and you can watch what you are about to get next.”

I stepped back and stood with my back to the wall, observing the scene in front of me. At least my small consolation was that I was about to see Amanda get a slippering, but it was a very small one at that, as it would soon be me on the receiving end instead.

“Bend over and touch your toes, keep your legs straight and bottom well up.”

Amanda was slim and athletic and had no difficulty in bending at the waist and taking up the required position. Miss Henshaw then took hold of the hem of her blouse and lifted it up, clear of her bottom, and deposited it high up on her back. Her hands then went to the waistband of Amanda’s knickers and for a brief, sorry about the pun, moment I thought she was going to pull them down, but instead pulled them up tight exposing more of the bare skin of her buttocks. Satisfied, she then stepped back and picked up the plimsoll.

Amanda presented the most tempting and inviting sight that I could ever imagine; bent over with her pert and shapely bottom thrust out awaiting the plimsol. Her lower back and upper legs were bare, and her white cotton knickers stretched tightly over her buttocks only drew attention to her bottom, more so than if she’d removed them and was bare. Miss Henshaw raised the plimsol and was about to bring it down for the first time ever on Amanda’s bottom when there was a knock on the door.

Miss Henshaw’s hand stopped, mid-air.

“Yes!”

The door opened slightly and Mrs Wilkins, the school secretary, poked her head around it.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Miss Henshaw, but I’ve got a young girl here who needs to have a word with you.”

“Can’t it wait until I’ve finished with these two?”

“I’m afraid not, she says it’s urgent. I think it’s something to do with these two actually.”

“Very well, send her in, but if it’s not urgent she can touch her toes for a slippering too after I’ve finished here.”

With a sigh, and visibly irritated, Miss Henshaw placed the plimsoll on her desk as a young girl, probably from the first or second year, nervously entered the room. She glanced over at Amanda, still bent over with her knickered bottom thrust up, and gave out a little gasp.

“Well, what is it?”

“It’s, it’s…”

“Speak up, girl! I haven’t got all day, or do you want a dose of the slipper too?”

“It’s, it’s just that I heard this girl,” she turned and pointed to me. “And some other girls talking yesterday saying how they wanted to see Amanda get the slipper and that they would start a fight with her to make it happen.”

Miss Henshaw turned to me.

“Is this true?”

“No, of course not. We wouldn’t do a thing like that,” I defended myself in reply.

Now the young girl turned to me directly.

“You did, I heard you.”

“No, you must have heard wrong. You’re mistaken.”

“I’m not, I definitely heard you and the other girls discussing it.”

“Oh, that’s quite enough!” Miss Henshaw had decided to interrupt. “I’m not listening to any more of this nonsense. You, girl, get your blazer and skirt off and you can have a taste of the slipper too for wasting my time.”

The junior girl turned back to Miss Henshaw.

“But I’m telling the truth, really I am. I did hear them.”

I could see that she was becoming distressed and on the point of tears, and my conscience wouldn’t allow me to see her get slippered for telling the truth. It was time to confess.

“She is telling the truth, Miss. We were talking about it.”

“So this whole thing was a set-up was it?”

“Well, yes and no, not really.” I was struggling.

“Who were the other girls involved?”

“Alice, Katie and Lisa, Miss.”

“And where will they be now?”

“In the common room, I imagine.”

Miss Henshaw turned back to the young girl.

“Would you recognise these girls again?”

“Yes Miss, certainly.” The girl’s demeanour had suddenly brightened up. “Go to the common room, find them, and tell them to come here this instant.”

“Yes Miss, I will.”

As the girl turned to head out the door Miss Henshaw had a final word.

“Oh, and thank you for coming to see me. It was brave of you, and I’m sorry if I shouted at you and caused you any upset.”

The girl smiled and hurried away on her mission. Miss Henshaw then turned to Amanda, who was still touching her toes, bottom thrust upwards.

“Stand up, and we’ll wait for the others to arrive.”

Amanda straightened up, her face flushed from the stance she’d been in, and she glared accusingly across at me. Miss Henshaw, meanwhile, seated herself behind her desk and we all waited in silence. It was only a couple of minutes later when there was a knock at the door.

“Enter.”

The door opened and Alice, Katie and Lisa slowly made their way in, looking somewhat confused. Seeing Amanda and I without blazers and skirts on didn’t help matters either. They joined us in a line in front of Miss Henshaw’s desk.

“So, we now have your partners in crime. Perhaps one of you would like to kindly explain what this is all about.”

Silence.

“I’m waiting, and the longer I wait the more likely I am to inflict a more severe punishment on you all.”

I decided I would speak up as I already knew we were probably in for a severe slippering as it was.

“We thought Amanda needing a slippering as she’d never had one before.”

“Ah, is that so? Well perhaps she has never had a slippering because she is a well-behaved girl who has not done anything to deserve one, unlike you four.”

I was tempted to enlighten Miss Henshaw on the many occasions Amanda had misbehaved and deserved a punishment, but didn’t think that would do our cause any good. Miss Henshaw continued.

“I think you need to realise that it is I who decides on who gets punished and how, and not yourselves. So this whole ‘fight’ thing was something you set up to land Amanda in trouble, was it?”

“Yes Miss, I suppose so. I’m sorry, it seemed like a good idea at the time, a bit of fun, but I suppose it was rather silly.”

“I doubt that it would have been ‘fun’ as you put it for poor Amanda here to get her bottom slippered, but you are right when you say it was a silly thing to do. Who’s idea was it?”

I was tempted to say Lisa and land her in it, but friends should stick together and support each other, so I desisted.

“It was all of us, Miss. We all decided on it.”

I saw Lisa give me a weak smile. I would definitely make her pay for this act of kindness and the mess her little scheme had got us all into in the future.

“Very well. Amanda, while I can’t condone your behaviour in rolling around on the floor with Jennifer, I realise that you were set up for this and it’s not something that you willingly took part in. I am therefore not going to punish you on this occasion, but should you be involved in anything similar in the future it will be the cane for you. Now get yourself dressed and go and stand by the window while I deal with these miscreants.”

With a final glare, Amanda went over to the window and replaced her blazer and skirt and stood, arms by her side, while Miss Henshaw continued. Once again, her bottom had escaped a whacking, this time by the skin of her teeth, and I could only admire her ability to wriggle out of seemingly impossible situations.

“As for the rest of you, I am disgusted with your behaviour. To deliberately try and get one of you classmates punished for a bit of ‘fun’ as you like to call it, and because you think it’s time she had the slipper, is the lowest of the low.”

“I’m sorry,” Alice said, who appeared to be getting a bit distressed.

“Me too,” chorused Katie and Lisa.

“Yes, you will be, and I don’t wish to hear any more from the four of you. I do not intend to slipper any of you either, I am going to cane you all instead. We’ll see how much ‘fun’ you all find that.”

“Please Miss, I don’t want the cane, please.” It was Alice again. Of the four of us, she was probably the one who feared punishment the most and had never coped well, even when getting a couple of whacks of the plimsol in a gym lesson.

“You will be caned, Alice, and if I hear any more out of you it will be on your bare backside instead of over your knickers as I intend to do at the moment. Now, the three of you, take your blazers and skirts off and place them over there on the table and be quick about it.”

While they undressed, my mind was in a whirl. I was going to be caned, my worst nightmare. I recalled those stripes on Lisa’s bottom all those years ago, and now I was going to have some applied too, but how many? How much would it hurt? As I glanced across at my three accomplices I thought I could detect a slight smile on the watching Amanda’s face.

The four of us lined up, all now devoid of blazers and skirts, while Miss Henshaw went over to a cupboard, opened the door, and extracted a cane. I had never seen a school cane before. It was about three feet long, with a traditional crook handle at one end. Miss Henshaw flexed it slightly in her hands before swishing it a couple of times through the air, then satisfied, made her way back towards us. Was the swishing necessary, or just designed to inflict a little fear into us? If the latter, then she had certainly succeeded on my behalf.

“I seem to remember I’ve caned you once before, Lisa, so I think we’ll have you first. The rest of you, stand against the wall and you can watch and take note of how to position yourselves when it is your turn.”

Alice, who by now was trying hard not to cry, Katie and I went and stood as instructed, leaving Lisa stood in front of the desk, about to get her bottom caned.

“Stand here,” Miss Henshaw pointed to a spot on the carpet just in front of the desk, which Lisa stepped onto.

“Now bend over the desk, grasp the far side of it. If it will help you maintain your position, then part your legs slightly, keep them straight and push your bottom well out for me, please.”

Lisa complied, her head and chest flat on the desk, her hands holding on to the far edge. Miss Henshaw then raised the hem of her blouse placing it over her back and, as she had done with Amanda, pulled her knickers up tight, exposing as much of the cheeks of Lisa’s bottom as she could.

“Bottom out, please.”

Lisa pushed her backside out as invitingly as she could, although I had to admit her bottom was not as pert or as tempting a target as Amanda’s had been.

“That’s exactly how I want you for each stroke, the rest of you take note as I expect you to adopt exactly the same position before each of your strokes. I intend to give you six strokes and you will remain in position until I tell you to stand. Any attempt to rub your bottom during punishment will result in that stroke being repeated, so I suggest you take a firm grip of the desk and we can get this over with quickly.”

Miss Henshaw then stood to the side of Lisa, tapped the cane against her bottom a couple of times, and then raised it above her shoulder before bringing it swiftly down against Lisa’s buttocks with a swishing sound followed by a loud crack on impact. I watched, fascinated. I had never seen anyone caned before and there was something ritualistic about it, quite unlike a slippering. I watched as the cane bit into Lisa’s bottom cheeks, causing them to wobble slightly, and then a white line that quickly darkened to red appearing on the bare skin either side of her white cotton knickers. Lisa grunted but remained in position.

She took the next three strokes remarkably well too, her grunts now turning to yelps and cries of “Owww!” But she remained in position although she did begin to sway her bottom about after each stroke. The fifth stroke caused the loudest cry yet and her bending legs and hips now thrusting against the table edge showed that she was now struggling.

“Last stroke, keep still and let me have your bottom well-presented for this one, please.”

Lisa straightened her legs and pushed her bottom out as much as she could. I would judge that the last stroke was the hardest, landing just above the crease of buttocks and thighs. Lisa yelped, bucked her hips about, but remained over the desk.

“Well done, you took that well. You may stand and go over to your friends again.”

Lisa slowly, and obviously painfully, straightened up and then, stiff-legged, made her way to stand beside me. Her hands were inside her knickers gently rubbing her bottom. I could see that she was crying. I felt sorry for her and hoped that I could take my punishment that well. Miss Henshaw then looked across at us and pointed the cane at Alice.

“You next, come here and get in position please.”

Watching Lisa get caned had done nothing for Alice’s state of mind, and tears were already beginning to form in her eyes.

“Please, Miss.”

“Get over here this minute, and if you’re not in position quickly you’ll get the caning on your bare bottom instead. Is that what you want?”

“No, Miss. No.”

“Then do as you’re told. Be brave and it will all be over in a few minutes, and you’ll live.”

Alice hurried forward and got herself into position, gripping the far side of the desk. Miss Henshaw again lifted her blouse and pulled her knickers up high exposing more bare skin. Of the four of us, Alice had the biggest and fleshiest bottom, perhaps that should have made it easier to take a caning, but perhaps it just presented a bigger target for Miss Henshaw to work on.

“Bottom out.”

Alice pushed her generous backside out and Miss Henshaw raised the cane and delivered the first stroke. It was met with a yelp by Alice who shot upright, her hands going straight to her bottom, rubbing furiously.

“Back in position and we will start again. I suggest you hold on tight to the desk or we will be here all afternoon, and you will take six proper strokes no matter how long and how many it takes us to get there.”

Alice positioned herself again and to her credit somehow managed to take the next three strokes, which although accompanied by a loud cry and much thrusting of her hips and bottom, she remained bent over for. The fourth stroke however had her leaping up again hands grasping her bottom cheeks.

“Oh really, that’s quite enough. I’ve had junior girls in here that have made less fuss than you.”

“But it really hurts, Miss. I can’t take any more, I really can’t.”

“You can and you will, no matter how long it takes. Now get back over the desk and let’s see if we can get this finished, shall we?”

Alice had tears flowing down her face and I was hoping upon hope that she would somehow find it within herself to just stay in position and get it over with, as it was she was now going to get at least eight strokes instead of six. It wasn’t pleasant to watch, especially as I still had my own punishment to come. Once again, Alice bent over the desk as Miss Henshaw walked over to her, raised her blouse again, but this time as she inserted her fingers into the waistband of her knickers, rather than pulling them up she yanked them down to the top of her thighs baring Alice’s bottom.

“We’ll have these down now, I think, so you will have something to make a fuss about.”

With her bottom now completely bare, it meant I had an uninterrupted view of the cane biting into Alice’s cheeks and her bottom wobbling on impact. It also meant I had a full view of the stripes being created, stripes I would soon have on my own bum, I had to give Miss Henshaw credit for her accuracy as she spaced them evenly over Alice’s ample bottom. Finally it was over and Alice made her tearful way back to rejoin us.

Next up was Katie. I was being made to stay to the end, which had the undesired consequence of having to watch all my friend’s canings before my own, heightening my own nervousness. Katie took her caning well, not quite as well as Lisa, but infinitely better than Alice. She managed to remain in position throughout, did not incur any additional strokes, and received all her caning over her knickers. Then it was my turn.

As I walked over to the desk, I resolved to try and take the caning as stoically as I could. Well, that was my intention anyway. Just as I was about to go over the desk, Miss Henshaw stopped me.

“Wait. You allowed that junior girl to get distressed thinking I was going to slipper her when you denied that what she was saying was true, so I think you can have your caning on the bare bottom for that. Remove your knickers and place them on the desk.”

I stood motionless, this was unexpected and took me off-guard.

“Your knickers off now, or do you want me to do it for you?”

I slipped my knickers down and stepped out of them, placing them on the desk, and then quickly assumed the required position. When Miss Henshaw lifted my blouse fully exposing my bare bottom to my friends, I could barely imagine the view they must be getting of me, but that concern soon deserted me.

I could never have believed that the cane could sting so much. It felt as if someone had branded me with a hot iron across both my buttocks, but I gripped the desk for dear life and managed to resist the urge to stand and rub my bottom. By the fourth stroke I was really struggling, the burning sensation and pain increasing with each stroke and I was aware that I was thrusting and swaying about over the end of the desk, not caring what I might be displaying to my watching friends.

For the sixth and final stroke, I thrust my bottom out as if anxious to feel that cane bite into me once again. And then it was over, my bottom was throbbing and hurting, tears were rolling down my cheeks, but I’d survived and it was over. And I had managed to remain in position throughout, even though I had not had the protection of my knickers. The one advantage being that it was easier to rub my bottom when told to stand!

And so that is how our great plan to get Amanda’s bottom slippered played out. Once again, she had evaded it and we all ended up with extremely sore and striped bottoms instead. We had little sympathy from the other girls in our year who mainly found it funny and thought we got what we deserved. We were also the centre of attention in the showers after gym the next day with everyone wanting to inspect our stripes which were still highly visible and would be for several days before they faded.

I felt particularly sorry for poor Alice who had not really had much to do with our dastardly plot, yet got the most severe caning of all four of us with eight strokes compared to our six. Mind you, she made everyone aware of that in the showers, proudly showing off her extra stripes on her ample bottom. We didn’t tell everyone about the fuss she’d made while having them applied. For my part, my bottom was probably the next most impressive as I had received all my strokes bare without the protection of knickers, making the stripes far more profound.

Amanda never received corporal punishment and became one of those rare girls who went through school without ever having her bottom warmed. At the end of that school year, Miss Henshaw retired and the new Headmistress, a Miss Cooper, abolished corporal punishment, so we were one of the last few girls to ever be caned at the school.

However that is not quite the end of my story.

I spent the next three years at university, then returned home and joined a local gym to try and keep myself fit. It was on my second visit there that as I entered I saw a familiar face, it was Amanda. This could be awkward. At the same time as I recognised her, she seemed to recognise me and came over.

“It’s Jenny isn’t it, Jenny Pearce?”

“That’s me,” I replied, a little sheepishly, not quite knowing where this was leading to.

“It’s great to see you. I hardly ever see anyone from school these days. Everyone seems to have dispersed all over the country. Are you a member here?”

“Just joined. I’m back home after Uni and thought I’d try and keep myself fit.”

“That’s great, I’ve been a member here for the last year. Hey, would you like to go for a coffee when we finish, have a bit of a catch up?”

“Yes certainly, why not?”

We both did our own sessions then headed to the showers and changing room together. Seeing Amanda nude in the showers, I could see that she still had that pert little bottom that she had at school. We dressed and then made our way to a nearby coffee shop, bought a coffee each, and then sat down and started chatting. Our conversation ranged over what we’d both been doing the last three years, friends we’d known at school and what happened to them, and then the inevitable.

“Hey, do you remember that time you tried to get me slippered? We had that rolling about match in the school corridor and old Henshaw caught us. I really did think I was going to get whacked that time. I couldn’t have got much closer to it.”

“Hmm, yes. Sorry about that, it was a silly thing to do.”

“It’s okay, I was livid with you at the time, but looking back it was quite funny, and it was you four that came off the worse, wasn’t it? Gosh that caning you all got looked really painful, and you got it bare too didn’t you?”

“Too right it was painful, but we deserved it. Well, perhaps not Alice who got it the hardest of all of us.”

“Yes, I did feel sorry for her. Old Henshaw didn’t show any sympathy for her, did she? You all had lovely stripes to show off afterwards, though, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose that was some consolation.”

“You know, I’ve often wished that young girl hadn’t come in when she did and I had got the slipper from old Henshaw.”

“Really? Why?”

“Well, I’ve often wondered what it was like to get the slipper or the cane. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t deserve it at times.”

“No, you had an amazing knack of avoiding it, not being there at the wrong time.”

“I know, I was blessed, I think. But no, I really wish she hadn’t come in and that I’d have got a good slippering from Miss Henshaw. It’s something I think about quite a bit, what it would have felt like, but I guess I’ll never know.”

“It would have hurt! Anyway you’re not too old for a slippering or a caning, I could do it for you!”

We both laughed and finished our coffees then left.

Over the next few weeks, Amanda and I met regularly at the gym and we became quite good friends, even starting to socialise together outside of the gym. I’d never had much to do with her at school, we had a different circle of friends, but I really liked her which made me feel even worse about what we’d tried to do to her in the past. It was over one coffee together after gym that the conversation returned to ‘that’ incident.

“Do you remember when we first had coffee together, I told you that I wish I’d been slippered at school and you said you could do it for me? I mean, slipper me, I suppose.”

“I was joking, I didn’t really mean it!”

“Oh,” Amanda looked disappointed. “It’s just that, I think I’d really like you to do it. God, this is embarrassing, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It would have to be a proper slippering, the sort I would have got from Miss Henshaw. I’ve still got my school uniform, even the white cotton knickers that I could wear. I know it could never be exactly the same as the real thing, but it would at least give me some idea. It would make up for you trying to get me slippered that time. Would you think about it at least?”

I was surprised, and somewhat shocked at this revelation and request.

“Well, I’m not sure. I was only joking, but okay I’ll think about it, but that’s all at this stage.”

“Thanks,” Amanda beamed back at me, and as she got up and bent down to pick up her sports bag she deliberately thrust her bottom out towards me as if inviting me to attend to it.

And, so dear readers, I will leave my story there. Did I slipper Amanda in her school uniform, perhaps on her pert bare bottom even? Did we then purchase a cane to use on her? I will leave that for you to decide.

The End

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© Steven Wilson 2025