Justice seen to be done!
by Tony Nixon
I could hardly believe what was happening. It was just so unfair. Anne Hawkins and Diane Bennett had never liked me for some reason best known to themselves. The three of us had been in the same class at school for five years now, and at sixteen they seemed to have overtaken me in terms of maturity. They had blossomed from being silly little girls into very sexy young ladies, and I took every opportunity of ogling their long shapely legs under their school desks during lessons. It didn’t alter the fact, though, that they were a couple of wicked bitches with a spiteful sense of humour. They delighted in teasing me and getting me into trouble, but this was the last straw! They had hidden some of their things in my school locker and then reported them stolen. A search was mounted, the things were found and, as a result, we were all three now in the Headmaster’s office.
Mr. Thomas, the Head, was wearing his gown and looked most severe as he pushed the pens, coins and other items across his desk. “Are these the items you had stolen, girls?” he asked grimly.
The two girls quickly nodded and said, “Yes, sir”. How could they? They were sitting in two easy chairs next to his desk and, despite everything, I still couldn’t help admiring their legs.
“Anything to say, Robertson?”
“No, sir,” I muttered, staring down at the carpet to hide my anger.
“I regard stealing as a most serious breach of discipline which demands severe punishment!”
I cast a ferocious glance at Anne and Diane who looked so smug I could have hit them. Even so I couldn’t help but notice that Anne had crossed her legs and was revealing quite a bit of bare, shapely thigh, from where I was standing. Stupidly, I still fancied the pair of them like crazy. They had both taken to wearing high heeled strap-fastened black sandals over white knee socks, their skirts trimmed to just fashionably above the knee. This set their long legs off to perfection. It was strange to be thinking of such things at a time like this, but my hormones drove my brain in those days.
However I was snapped out of my short-lived reverie when the Head said, “And so, therefore, to the matter of punishment…”. A shudder went down my spine.
“Now, as I see it, I have two options open to me,” he began, then looked across at the two girls. “Since you brought the complaint I look to you girls for advice. Do you think the most suitable and effective punishment would be suspension from school or a sharp dose of the cane?”
I shuddered again and swore under my breath.
“Oh the cane sir!” said Diane all too eagerly.
“Oh yes sir,” Anne quickly added.
They smirked at each other in a way that made my blood boil.
“I see. So you think young Robertson should be caned do you? That would clear up the matter to your satisfaction?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Very well.” Mr Thomas then took out the Punishment Book from his top desk drawer and placed it in front of himself. He opened the book and took out a pen. “I am empowered to administer the cane to pupils on the palms of their hands or on their… er… rear ends, covered by one layer of clothing. Which of these options would you consider most appropriate, ladies?”
Shocked to be consulted, Anne stuttered, trying not to snicker, “the… er… rear end, sir.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing – that my punishment was being determined by these two little liars! It all seemed so bloody matter-of-fact! By now my palms were sweating and my stomach was churning. Yet even at this point I was staring at Anne’s gorgeous legs like some fetishist.
“And how many strokes would you consider appropriate, ladies?”
“Six of the best, sir,” said Diane gleefully.
The Head raised one eyebrow. “Six of the best, eh? You obviously concur with me that the crime committed here deserves a severe retribution.” He wrote in the book again. Then he dropped the real bombshell!
“Now girls, would you think its right that the offended parties in this case should witness justice being done?”
“Oh definitely, sir!” said Anne hastily, her face pink as she winked slyly at Diane, no doubt imagining the pleasure they would get from seeing me bent over with my trousers down
Mr. Thomas stood up grimly, pulling his gown around him. “I see. Well then you can help me with a few practicalities.” He moved across to his tall corner cupboard and opened the door. “I have a fairly large selection of school canes, but basically there are four different ones to choose from.” He then withdrew four canes from the cupboard and laid them side by side on his desk. He picked up a short, straight one. “This is for use on pupils palms so we can disregard it. As to the others we have the Junior, the Intermediate and the Senior cane – obviously each delivers a correspondingly greater degree of sting. What do you think this case deserves, girls?”
“Oh the Senior, sir!” they chorused, none too surprisingly. I felt sick.
The Head nodded and replaced the other three canes in his cupboard. This left the longest implement on his desk – a traditional fearsome crook handled three-footer.
“One last question, ladies,” he said. “Do you feel that the recipient of the cane should be afforded the aid of a chair or be made to touch their toes with legs held straight?”
They looked at each other, flattered and surprised. “Er… touching toes, sir,” said Diane after some thought.
“I see. So let’s recap, shall we? You wish to remain as witnesses as I give Robertson six of the best with the Senior cane, over his underpants, while be bends over touching his toes. Is that right? ”
“Yes, sir!” they both said, pink cheeked with excitement. Anne slid one shapely leg further over the other, revealing even more thigh, while I wished the ground would open up and swallow me.
“For something he didn’t do….” said the Head cryptically.
Time seemed to stand still in that room for a few seconds. Both girls’ mouths dropped open. Smirks disappeared instantly. Anne hastily uncrossed her legs. I’m not sure who was the more confused – me or them. What on earth was going on?
“You see, ladies, unfortunately for you and fortunately for Robertson, you were spotted putting those items in his locker yourselves. I have no idea why you wanted to get a boy into trouble for something that he wasn’t even aware of, but I regard it as one of the most despicable acts I have ever come across.”
Both girls now looked shocked and frightened, while I felt that a ton weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
“I’m sorry I had to put you through that, Robertson, but I had to be sure how far they would take this accusation and the eventual punishment… and may I say how much I admire you for not saying anything against these two wicked-minded girls.” Turning to Anne and Diane, he snapped, “Stand up!”
The girls looked quite pale as they scrambled to their feet. I noticed as they stood how their high heels accentuated the length and shape of their legs and the jutting swell of their bottoms under their blue uniform skirts.
“Now, Miss Hawkins, why did you formulate this plot against Robertson?”
“I-I don’t know sir…” came the mumbled reply from Anne, her head bowed.
“Well he… because… er… I don’t know, sir…” stammered Diane.
“Don’t know? You don’t know why you were implicating an innocent class-mate in a serious accusation of theft?” He was at his most outraged and was putting the fear of God into me, never mind the two sexy young madams in front of him. They both stared hard at the carpet, their hands clasped firmly together in front of them.
“Whatever the reason was, there can be no excuse for trying to manipulate someone into receiving severe corporal punishment.” He paused and gazed out of the office window, avoiding all our eyes. “I can see only one fair way to deal with this matter. I have filled in the details in the Punishment Book, but I have not yet filled in a name or a reason against the entry. I feel that, in the interests of justice, I should enter the names Anne Hawkins and Diane Bennett with the reason, ‘Deceit and victimisation”.
My heart began to pound again, for quite a different reason. The girls looked aghast and pale.
The Head turned to me. “Robertson, would it settle the matter in your eyes if these two wretched girls receive the punishment they would have had me inflict on you?”
“Y-yes, sir, it would!” I heard myself stammer.
Anne and Diane both cast me a glance that could have burned through stone. Mr. Thomas picked up his pen and scribbled away in the book.
“Six of the best with the Senior cane is a very demanding punishment,” he said in a grim voice, “but since you both expected Robertson to take it without complaint, I shall expect you two girls to do the same.” With that he rose to his feet and picked up the Senior cane. It rattled tantalisingly against the desk top. He flexed the wickedly supple yard of rattan effortlessly into a half circle and then swished it experimentally through the air. My loins began to stir as I watched the crestfallen girls shuffle uneasily from foot to foot, their knees rubbing together engagingly. Anne subconsciously put her hand behind her back and smoothed her fingers over her bottom as the Head swished the cane. I coughed nervously. The thought of her exposed thighs was still killing me.
“Robertson, these wicked girls were quite excited about being witnesses to what they assumed would be your punishment. I believe in justice being done and seen to be done, therefore I believe it is right that you should witness their caning.”
My heart skipped a beat and I became acutely aware of a tightening at the front of my trousers. It was as if mild electric shocks were passing through my body.
“But sir!” cried Diane in shock, “please -”. The arch bitch on the spot!
“Be quiet, Bennett! You were quite prepared to stay and watch me cane Robertson, so why should he not be afforded the same choice?” snapped Mr. Thomas, fiercely. There was another uncomfortable silence. “Well, Robertson, do you wish to remain?”
“Oh yes sir!” I blurted out, trying desperately not to sound too eager, and failing. “So be it,” he said, moving away from his desk. “Come and sit in my chair, boy, then you are out of the way.”
I shuffled around and sat on his large comfortable chair, glad of a chance to hide the huge tent in my trousers behind the leather topped mahogany desk. I glanced down at the Punishment Book which was still open. There were several entries at the top of the page – three fifth form boys had received four strokes for smoking about two weeks ago, then a few others including, interestingly, Tracie Ashcroft, a rather attractive girl in Form 5B who had received two strokes on the hand the previous week for truancy. I never knew about that. How exciting! I wished I could have looked through the whole book, but my eyes were distracted as they rested on the last entries – “Anne Hawkins, Form 5A, six strokes on the buttocks, Deceit and victimisation. Diane Bennett, ditto.”
I jumped slightly as Mr. Thomas dropped the cane on the desk in front of me with a loud rattle and walked towards the centre of the spacious office to move a round coffee table into the corner. I would love to have touched that wicked, shiny cane, but I just stared at its simplicity, thinking of its latent power, and wondering how many other girlish bottoms had been visited by its avenging sting.
The girls looked transfixed with terror as the Head slipped off his black gown and hung it on a hook behind the door, then took off his charcoal-grey suit jacket and hung that up too. He obviously meant business! Striding purposefully back to the desk he picked up the cane and paced up and down the large open space in the centre of the office, lecturing the two girls about his shock and horror at their misdemeanours, flexing the cane to and fro the whole time. The girls’ heads bowed lower and lower, their hands now clasped behind their backs, as though trying to protect their gorgeous bottoms from the imminent chastisement.
“It was only a little joke, sir”, whimpered Anne suddenly.
“A joke, eh? You won’t think it’s a joke when it’s your turn to touch your toes, Miss Hawkins!”
“Please sir, can’t we have it on our hands?” wailed Diane.
“Certainly not! You set the terms of the punishment, now you must accept it!” Suddenly he stepped into the centre of the office, swished the cane menacingly through the air and snapped, “Take off your blazers!”
My loins stirred once more as both girls hesitantly removed their blazers and laid them on the chairs that they had previously occupied, revealing their crisp white blouses, tight over their fully-developed breasts, the snow white of the material erotically enhanced by their striped uniform ties.
“Hawkins, go and face the door. Bennett, come here!”
The girls cast a rueful glance at one another, and parted to their alloted positions. Diane looked pale and forlorn as she moved to the centre of the room.
“Stand there!” Mr. Thomas pointed with the cane to an imaginary mark on the carpet, “with your back to the window and your feet together.”
I was apparently to be treated to a sideways aspect of the proceedings. The Head moved to the far side of the girl, flexing the cane in huge arcs as he did so.
“Now this will not be pleasant for either of you,” he said sharply. “As I have already intimated, it is easier to take a caning bent over a chair or desk but since you would have had Robertson touching his toes, then you can be punished in the same way!”
Diane swayed slightly, her hands clenched and held rigidly against her hips.
“Now… bend over!”
Those magic words quickened my heartbeat yet again. Diane swallowed hard, then bent gracefully forward, her arms outstretched, until with fingers straight and body straining her fingertips just touched her toes. Her pleated skirt rode up her silky-skinned thighs quite a few inches, but still obscured the designated target area. I was rather disappointed but I needn’t have worried because Mr. Thomas stepped forward and, with a deft flick of his wrist, flipped the skirt up onto her arched back, revealing a lovely pair of white satin-finish nylon knickers stretched taut over her exquisitely rounded bottom. Diane had obviously not expected this for she gasped in horror and began to straighten up.
“Just one layer of clothing, Miss Bennett… remember? Now touch your toes!” snapped the Head.
She complied slowly. I noticed her outstretched fingers trembling as they pushed on to the ends of her shoes. Her knees were perfectly straight and the high heels, uptilting her whole frame, accentuated and enhanced the gorgeous shape of her long, smooth legs.
The Headmaster positioned himself on the far side of the bending girl and planted his feet a little way apart for balance. Reaching out with the cane in his right hand he ensured that he was the correct distance away from his target. The tension in the room was unbelievable as he laid the final punishing foot of the cane right across the centre of the girl’s perfectly rounded bottom. Diane flinched at the first touch of the cold rattan, knowing it to be only seconds away from causing her extreme pain. Mr. Thomas tapped the cane three… four… five times on the same spot. I watched entranced as the firm but fleshy bottom cheeks wobbled with each tap – a reminder of the tender vulnerability of soft female flesh. Her longish blonde hair covered her face, but I could well imagine her look of fearful apprehension. Anne cast a nervous glance over her shoulder to see what was going on, knowing that her turn was soon to come.
The Head suddenly set his face into an expression of steely determination. I crossed my legs self-consciously, somewhat alarmed by the swelling in the front of my trousers yet revelling in its cause. Mr. Thomas swept the cane well back. Diane’s buttocks tensed and tightened as she anticipated the stroke. I wondered how hard he would hit. I supposed they would be let off lightly, being girls.
Then, suddenly SWISH! THWACK!
Diane Bennett let out a yell like a scalded cat, shot bolt upright, clasped both hands to the seat of her knickers and rubbed like hell!
“Owwwwww Aaaaaahhhh!” she whimpered, tears already pricking her eyes.
Good God! I thought. No mercy here because they’re girls! Far from it!
“Get back in position!” the Head boomed. “I’ve hardly started with you!”
My heart pounded like mad. Diane hesitated slightly, but bent to touch her toes once more. Her skirt was again flipped back, the cane tapped once more on the stretched nylon drum before it, perhaps an inch lower than last time. Then…
Another loud yelp and Diane was up again, hopping from foot to foot and massaging her injured rear. Anne Hawkins had turned to watch the cause of the awful sound effects and was looking scared to death.
The Head suddenly exploded. “Miss Hawkins! Turn and face that door immediately! Miss Bennett, bend over and stop making such a fuss! I’ve seen Juniors take the cane better than this.”
“B-but sir…” she whined, snuffling slightly.
“Touch your toes girl!”
She was indeed making a fuss, but the Head was certainly on form. He was whacking that yard of swishy rattan down with a vengeance onto a tender target that I guessed had never even been spanked before. Hesitantly Diane bent forward.
“Skirt!”. This time Mr.Thomas made her reach back to flip her own short skirt to the small of her back. How I wished I could have seen the two raised red stripes that must have been adorning that pretty posterior. Her knees were bent this time and she appeared to be trying to lower her bottom out of range.
“Straighten those legs. Now!”
They straightened. Her trembling fingertips stretching to reach her toes.
“If you get up again, Miss Bennett, or if I have to remind you once more of the required position to take a caning, I will get Robertson to hold your hands tightly and put you across the desk for the remaining strokes!”
Oh God, no! I thought. She’ll be bound to detect my excitement – my sweaty hands, my shaking fingers, maybe even see my stiffie… but then there will be the thrill of staring into her eyes as the cane bites and watching the pained contortions on her sexy face.
Tap, tap, tap… SWISH! THWACK! Another squeal after the explosion of sound but the Head’s threat had worked because, although her fingers left her toes and her knees sagged slightly, she did more or less maintain her undignified, submissive position. Within seconds she had regained her posture, even though she was making high-pitched moaning sounds which aroused me considerably.
Tap, tap, tap… SWISH! THWACK!
This time a shrill shriek and a frantic rubbing together of thighs, mobilising her scorched rear into a very erotic side to side wiggle. Her hands made white-knuckled fists then slowly straightened out again. Now she grasped her ankles firmly and braced back her legs.
On this stroke, I endeavoured to savour the technique a little more. The ‘Tap, tap, tap’ was quite low down her thinly-covered bottom cheeks, then a fairly substantial swing back and suddenly the tip of the cane vanished in a blur as it travelled at incredible speed with a whistling Swish! punctuated abruptly by the satisfying (to me!) Thwack! of rattan against sensitive girl flesh. Diane yelled loudly and I realised that she had started crying quite considerably. I also noticed that when she yelled she jerked her head back, causing her hair to toss in the air. Deep muffled sobs came from Diane as Mr.Thomas prepared for the last stroke.
This one was so low down that he was tapping to get his aim almost on the rounded crease where bottom becomes thighs. This meant that, due to the V shaping of Diane’s knickers, the cane would be biting into bare flesh. Diane must have realised this and moved her bottom to one side. The Head gave a sharper warning tap then, as she responded, and as if to catch her by surprise, he swept the cane swiftly back and flicked it sharply down again in one energetic stroke.
Diane tossed her head back and let out a ghastly shriek. I swiftly re-directed my gaze on her rear-end, in the hope that I would at last see a red line from the visitation of the stick to the lower extremities of her cheeks, but I was foiled. She must have realised that her torturous punishment was at an end and so leapt upright, rubbing her throbbing sit-upon furiously and attempting to stamp the pain away in a peculiar dance routine. Her hair was stuck to the tears on her cheeks, she was crying loudly and unashamedly and making a hell of a fuss, but for her at least, it was over. Her twisted expressions of exquisite agony were testimony to the punitive power of Mr. Thomas’ right arm and its lithe, three-foot rattan extension.
The Headmaster let the cane drop down by his side. “Well I can’t compliment you on taking your punishment particularly well, Miss Bennett, but at least you did take it without the need for Robertson’s assistance. Let us see if Miss Hawkins can manage to do the same. Now go and face the door!” He then turned to Anne. “Miss Hawkins – take her place if you please!”
My heart began thumping again, because I had to admit that Anne was the one I really fancied and I couldn’t wait to see her arse wriggling under its painful ordeal. She looked resolute as she moved forwards. She was obviously trying to hide any fear, but her wide staring eyes and flushed cheeks gave away her suppressed panic at the plight in which she now found herself. As Anne moved forward, Diane shuffled painfully over to the office door and stood facing it. Anne and the Head were too preoccupied, but I watched in delight as Diane put her hands behind her, under the back of her skirt lifting it high as she did so, then plunged both hands down inside her filmy white knickers, one hand on each cheek, obviously an attempt to ease away some of the throbbing, burning sting. She was still sobbing very quietly and uncomfortably shifting her weight from foot to foot as though she just didn’t know what to do with herself. How I wished it was my hands down her knickers feeling those painful ridges and all that radiated heat! I could hardly tear my eyes away but I had to, for it was ‘top of the bill’ time.
Anne was standing staring downwards at nothing in particular but she was desperate to avoid my eyes. She was an incredibly sexy girl. Shorter in height than Diane but beautifully proportioned. She was well-spoken and obviously from quite a wealthy background, with a kind of serene arrogance that made you want to take her down a peg or two. Yet, despite this, she had a warm side to her nature at times and I often thought Diane was a bad influence. I smiled to myself at just what a warm side she would be presenting in a few minutes time! I had fancied Anne right through school and had fantasised about her often, but this was more gut-churningly exciting than anything my brain had dreamed up for her! I suddenly thought of the possibility of holding Anne’s hands across the desk in front of me if she didn’t take her ‘six of the best’ well. And staring into those large blue eyes, watching the pained expressions wax and wane. My mouth went quite dry at the thought!
Once again my reverie was interrupted by Mr. Thomas’ voice. “Stand there!” With his left hand he took Anne’s arm firmly and pushed her to the spot that Diane had just vacated. It was then I thought I had gone to heaven. Anne moved to stand with her back to the window, as Diane had done, but, presumably because it gave him more room, Mr. Thomas firmly turned her to the side which, to my delight, left me facing her bottom! I noticed that she gasped and rubbed two nervous sweaty palms on the sides of her skirt as she awaited the next instruction. She didn’t have to wait long!
“Bend over and touch your toes!”
I saw her swallow hard then, without hesitation, she bent forward, stretched out her arms and effortlessly touched the ends of her shoes with her fingertips. Her legs, somehow even smoother and slightly more tanned than Diane’s, were kept rigidly straight. With one accomplished, swift movement the Headmaster flipped back her school skirt. My blood raced as I gazed at the silky smoothness of her beautifully rounded thighs. Her knickers were much briefer than Diane’s – smooth, white nylon again but with lace trimming – altogether more breathtaking than her friend’s. They were cut away at the sides, making the ‘V’ that just covered her bottom all the more pronounced. It was clear that if the cane landed on the lower part of her cheeks it would be whacking essentially totally bare bottom! And what a bottom! So perfectly round and smooth with not an ounce of surplus fat.
The Head began to move into position and once more estimate his posture for maximum swishing power. I glanced across at Diane whose hands were still inside her knickers, now rubbing a little more carefully and slowly. Mr. Thomas swished the cane through the air a couple of times, as if to force everyone’s attention once more. He rested the cane about half way down Anne’s curvy rear. Not on bare flesh this time. Her bottom cheeks tightened in reflex action but as the Head ‘tap, tap, tapped’ the cane on the same spot I watched as the muscles relaxed again and her buttocks spread back to their full roundness. Her bottom was firmer and more resilient than her friend’s and so full and sumptuous to my eye. Mr. Thomas drew back the cane then…
Anne’s bent frame jolted visibly on the sharp impact of the stinging rattan, but I was amazed and a little disappointed that she didn’t make a sound and barely shifted her position. At first I thought my mind was playing tricks and he hadn’t hit her properly but the Thwack! was every bit as loud as the strokes of Diane’s punishment. Then I wondered if Anne was maybe spanked at home and was more used to corporal punishment. Or perhaps this wasn’t the first time she had found herself in this painful position in the Head’s office! I did recall him saying earlier “This will not be pleasant will it, Miss Hawkins!” as if she had some prior knowledge of a caning. How I would have loved to flick through the Punishment Book to see if my theory was correct, and if so read the detail and the reasons.
The Head was tapping with the cane again – lower as I had hoped. This time the tip would land on bare skin. I was determined to watch Anne’s reaction more closely this time.
Her body jerked slightly and I noticed her eyes screw tight shut, but she still didn’t make a sound. Diane glanced round in amazement at her friend’s stoicism and stopped her own childish grizzling immediately, perhaps embarrassed now by the fuss she had made. I couldn’t be sure if I saw a red mark where the cane tip had made contact because of a thin line of shadow caused by the lace trim of her panties… but I was definitely going to see something this time. The cane was tapping a good two inches lower than the previous stroke. As the Headmaster drew the stick backwards I saw Anne tense herself, her eyes screwing tight shut.
This time the pretty girl’s body jerked and there was a definite audible sucking-in of air between partly closed lips, but still no real reaction. I was impressed by how well she was taking her punishment and thrilled to see a vivid red stripe had sprung up on the part of her bottom where the cane had landed, surprisingly stretching an inch or two round the curve of her cheek where the stick had flattened the flesh on impact.
A bead of sweat had formed on the Head’s brow. Unexpectedly he spoke.
“You are taking this well, Miss Hawkins. Congratulations… How many is that so far?”
A pause, then a muffled and very unhappy voice said, “Three, sir…”
“Ah, half way there… Perhaps young lady you would be so good as to count the next strokes out loud?”
Why had he demanded that? I asked myself, somewhat puzzled. He repositioned himself, then…
Tap, tap, tap… SWISH! THWACK!
The firmer whack of the rattan on Anne’s more resilient flesh was quite distinctive, and was sounding decidedly meatier as the target area lowered and the stick bit into more and more unprotected skin. There was another jerk of her body, almost as though she had received an electric shock, and another stifled gasp from Anne.
In a consciously restrained voice, the unfortunate girl mumbled, “Four…”, but the tell-tale higher pitch of her voice and the distinct quavering at the end of the word, followed by a gulping swallow told us that she was not as composed as she would have us believe. A red band of fire sprang up beneath the previous one, darkening in colour as I watched.
Anne shifted her weight slightly from foot to foot, but still maintained her position. Her face was now flushed and she bit her bottom lip as that ominous ‘Tap, tap, tap’ began again. This stroke was aimed at the lowest curve of her gorgeous bum. Slowly the cane went back…..
Boy, but that was a corker! Harder than all his previous strokes that day. Anne’s head jerked back a little and she swayed slightly, her knees buckling a little after the customary reflex jolt of her whole body. She just held on to an anguished gasp which she managed to stifle into a sharp intake of breath. Another fiery red band leapt up exactly on target.
Hesitantly she stammered, “F-five…” in a voice cracking with pent up emotion.
Now I had fathomed the Head’s plan! He really was a master of the caning art. Calling out the number of strokes was to test and then help break Anne’s stoical vocal restraint. I also had to admire his skill in laying on the strokes so neatly parallel and smack on target. He had obviously had a lot of practice. How I wished I had his job!
Anne’s breathing had become short and urgent and I watched with fascination as her inflamed buttocks clenched and unclenched, frantically trying to ease the build-up of smarting pain.
The tension in the Head’s study had now reached fever pitch. Diane, forgetting her instructions about facing the wall, was watching with a mixture of amazement and admiration at her friend’s fortitude, presumably willing her to keep it up to the bitter end. I, on the other hand, was aching for Anne to break her silence on the final stroke. Anne herself was obviously determined, having got this far, to maintain her silence and her pride. Her face however registered just how difficult that was becoming, as did that continued mobility of her thighs and those lusciously striped bottom cheeks.
Mr. Thomas had a look of even more sheer resolve on his face as he planted his feet further apart and focused hard on his target. He laid the cane right along the natural line between Anne’s thighs and her backside. This stroke was going to hit virtually all bare flesh as the ‘V’ of her filmy panties had moulded itself into the hidden contours of her lower bottom. She flinched at the touch of the polished wood on her sensitive skin, but she managed to control the muscles in her bottom as her buttocks relaxed and resumed their normal rotundity. Her fingers were trembling as they pushed down harder onto her toes, bending them back and causing her knuckles to go white.
The room suddenly fell very silent. All that could be heard was Anne’s deep, laboured breathing. This was soon punctuated by that familiar ‘Tap, tap, tap’. To prolong the agony the Head tapped away for a much longer time.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Eventually he swept back the cane dramatically. Anne drew breath sharply and held it… but the swish didn’t come. He was keeping her waiting for this one. Of course! He was trying to catch this deceitful, yet so sexy, little minx by surprise, in the earnest hope of intensifying her already considerable suffering.
After quite a few seconds Anne turned her head slightly, in order to see what the Headmaster was up to. As she did so she let go of the breath she had been holding for restraint! That was the cue he had been waiting for.
She was caught completely unawares, as had been the intention, by an incredibly hard stroke and her whole frame jerked forwards. Her head shot back, her mouth opened wide as she gasped for breath and her eyes dilated, wide with shock. She nervously and rapidly gulped in air to control a scream of agony which almost emerged but was stifled. Instead, deliberately and just retaining control, but with great feeling, she simply said “Ooooucchh!” out loud.
She had started to straighten in a reflex action, but as she regained her composure after the searing sting of that wicked last stroke, she touched her toes once more and straightened her legs.
Through tightly gritted teeth she forced out the word, “Six…”. Her voice was strained, quavery and almost falsetto.
The sixth band of fire had sprung up on her lovely skin and I gazed at her partly-visible bum. A rosy glow had now spread over all the visible area, but the raised red ribs stood out, running alongside one another. And beneath those flaming marks, her bared thighs trembled.
Anne’s breathing had become quicker and even more desperate than ever and her chest was heaving. It was clear from the expression on her face that just one more stroke would probably have finished her resolve, but the Head was a man of honour.
“Stand up, Miss Hawkins,” he commanded.
Stiffly and painfully slowly Anne straightened herself up, allowing her skirt to fall and hide that glorious and thoroughly-thrashed rear end of hers. Her face was scarlet, her lips thin and tight as she gasped and gulped for breath between clenched teeth. Her eyes were moist and a solitary tear rolled down her cheek, yet she was evidently determined not to give us the satisfaction of seeing her cry properly. Her hands instinctively pressed against the seat of her skirt and the source of her unconcealable pain.
“Piece of cake eh, Miss Hawkins?” taunted the Headmaster somewhat cruelly. “Oh that was the easy part. Your problems really start when you have to return to class and sit down…” he consulted his watch, “…in about two minutes.”
Anne stared at a fixed point straight ahead in order to keep all her concentration and self-control, for she was clearly only fractions away from real tears. Indeed her beautiful eyes were already very shiny. Her hands, tenderly cupping her stinging bottom through her skirt, were now gingerly massaging the afflicted area.
The Headmaster walked towards the desk and laid down the cane. “Both of you, over here!” he ordered.
Two well-punished and subdued girls shuffled forwards. Diane had stopped crying, but was still flushed and continued to rub her bottom vigorously, though now through her skirt.
“That was a lesson I hope you will never forget,” the Head said sharply, “but if you do, I will be only too happy to remind you – and the next time….” he left the sentence unfinished and an unspoken threat hanging in the air. “Now get out of my office, the pair of you!” He was stern to the finish and it was clear to both quaking girls that they could hope for no mercy if they were ever sent to him again.
Both girls made for the door, Anne still very stiff and smarting. As they disappeared out of the door, both of them were rubbing their blazing hot bottoms in a most alluring way, as if it was impossible to take their hands away. They were utterly chastened. I felt that I really had seen justice done!