Abigail Martins picked up her telephone and dialled the number of her friend, Christina Abbot. Christina was also the mother of a sixth form student at the school where Abigail was headmistress.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Christina, it’s Abigail. How’s things?”

“Fine, thanks Abigail. Er, what’s wrong? You don’t usually phone during the school day. Is Sara okay? What’s happened?”

“It’s okay, Christina. Sara’s fine. It’s just that we have a little problem.”

“A problem? What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid she had a little bust-up with Mrs Briggs who takes her for Economics. It seems Mrs Briggs caught Sara trying to pass a note to a friend and, well, it wasn’t exactly complimentary to Mrs Briggs. When Mrs Briggs asked Sara to stay behind after the lesson to give her a good telling-off, Sara wasn’t cooperative. Things seem to have got a little heated and words were exchanged that shouldn’t feature in a teacher/student situation, if you catch my drift.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Abigail. My Sara can be a little hot-headed at times.”

“Yes, I’ve had the occasional run-in with her myself, although knowing her better than most of my students, I suppose I might have made allowances.”

“So, is she in detention after school this evening?”

“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, Christina. Obviously, I can’t just let this go. There is going to have to be some kind of consequence. I have to support my staff, Christina, and Mrs Briggs is extremely angry.”

“Oh dear, so are you going to suspend Sara? Is that why you’re phoning? Won’t that affect her preparation for the exams next month?”

“Yes, suspension isn’t really an option, thinking about the exams.”

“So, how are you going to deal with it?”

“That’s why I’m phoning, Christina. I know what I’d do with any other student.”

“Abigail, you mustn’t treat Sara any differently, just because we’re friends.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Why? What would you normally do?”

“Um, I might cane them, or I have an old gym plimsoll I could use. I don’t like to say this, but I think it’s what Sara deserves. What do you reckon?”

“Oh! It’s not something I’ve ever thought about. Sara’s seventeen, isn’t she a bit too old for that?”

“Not according to the school’s rules. When we were allowed to reinstate corporal punishment, we didn’t set any age limits.”

“Yes, but still.”

“So, you’re against the idea?”

“I just can’t image what Sara would say when she’s told she’s getting the cane.”

“I wouldn’t mind betting she has already at least thought about it, Christina. She must know there’s going to be a punishment of some sort.”

“I suppose so.”

“Would you prefer me to suggest it to her?”

“Um, yes, it might be better coming from you as her headmistress.”

“But you’d be happy if I used some form of corporal punishment?”

“I’m not sure ‘happy’ would be the right word.”

“Christina, we’ve been friends for years. I wouldn’t want to upset that. I really would prefer to do this with your support.”

“Well, okay, I suppose.”

“Would it help if I came to your house to do it? Then you could witness it, if you wanted to.”

“Oh. I don’t know. That might be an idea. Then she could go to her room straight afterwards.”

“Look, I need to have a conversation with Alicia anyway. I’ll chat over what options there are, and if we decide a smacked bottom would be best for her, then I’ll also let her choose between doing it in my study this afternoon, or coming to your house after school. How does that sound?”

“Smacked bottom? I was thinking you would cane her on the palms of her hands.”

“No, I don’t like doing that. It’s exceedingly painful for one thing, and having to watch herself being hit is also not very nice.”

“Right, well if you want to do it here, it might be best to do it before seven o’clock when we have dinner.”

****

“Back in a few minutes,” Abigail Martins told her secretary as she passed through her office. “Just going walkabout.”

Abigail left the office before her secretary could ask where exactly she would be going and soon found Sara doing private study alone in the school’s library.

“Hi Sara, I’m glad I found you alone. We need to have a little chat.”

“About my fight with Mrs Briggs, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Abigail sat next to Sara. “I thought it better we have a private talk rather than in my study. Word soon gets around in this place.”

“Discretion appreciated, ma’am,” Sara said with a smile.

“I meant this to be an off-the-record informal discussion, Sara. I’m sure you realise I have to take some action.”

“Of course. Thank you for that, Abigail. When you say ‘take some action’, I presume you mean I have to be punished. Is that what you want to talk about?”

“I’m afraid so. Have you thought what that might entail, Sara?”

“I’ve been hoping you’re not going to suspend me, what with exams coming soon.”

“I agree, that would not be good for anyone, especially for you, Sara. No, you won’t be suspended.”

“I suppose that only leaves detention, doesn’t it? Loads of detentions?”

“Time consuming, Sara. I was thinking about something more time-effective.”

“Like what?”

“That’s the awkward bit, Sara.”

“Why awkward? I accept I have to be punished. Just tell me what it’s going to be.”

“Putting it bluntly, Sara, I’m thinking a smacked bottom of some kind would be best.”

Sara laughed. “A smacked bottom eh? I’ve never had my bottom smacked. How would you do it? And what would my mum say?”

“I’ve actually spoken to your mum, Sara, and I’d say she’s reluctant but not entirely against the idea.”

“I can imagine.”

“It doesn’t take long and it can be done in private.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“We could even do it at your house. Of course, Mrs Briggs will have to know how I’ve dealt with you.”

“Yes. I owe her that. And I’ll personally apologise to her. I was going to see her after school today, but perhaps it would be better after I’ve been punished.”

“So you can tell her what your punishment was? Yes, that would be a good idea.”

“So, how are you going to smack my bottom, Abigail?”

“I was thinking five strokes of the cane, Sara. How would you feel about that?”

Sara nodded pensively. “I don’t know. Is it enough?”

“Possibly not. Perhaps eight would be better, thinking of our need to placate Mrs Briggs. This is so difficult for me, Sara, knowing you as I do.”

“Yes, I’m sorry I’ve caused you this problem. I just lost my cool with her. I’m sure she would be happier if I got eight. I guess that’s going to smart a bit though.”

“True, but I’m afraid it has to.”

“Of course. Okay. I’ll accept that.” Sara grimaced.

“Which leaves the question of where we’re going to do it. I could drive you home after school and we could do it at your house.”

“Before dad gets home? If I chose to have it here, when would you do it?”

“Probably best to do it now and get it over with.”

Sara considered the two options, and the headmistress allowed her the time to decide.

Eventually, Sara said, “I think at home would be best. For one thing, I don’t want to finish my afternoon lessons with a sore bottom. It has to be done across my bum, does it? I couldn’t just hold my hand out? On the palm of my non-writing hand, I mean.”

“Yes, that number of strokes would have to be given across your bottom.”

Sara nodded.

****

When the final bell sounded to mark the end of the school day, Abigail told her secretary that she had to leave early, then with the door to her study firmly closed she went to a corner cupboard and took her cane out. By holding it against her side and mostly under her jacket, she managed to exit the school and go out to her car without being observed. A few minutes later, she was joined by Sara.

With the car unlocked, Sara went to get into the front passenger seat.

“That’s it, is it?” Sara asked as she noticed the two-and-a-half foot long cane on the back seat.

“That’s it, yes.”

The journey to Sara’s house was taken in silence, both Sara and Abigail Martins lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived, Sara’s mother held the front door open for them. Sara went straight in, while Abigail took the cane from the back seat and again tried to conceal it as much as she could.

“I’ve put the coffee on. Shall we go into the front room?” Sara’s mother, Christina, asked, looking hard at the cane Abigail was carrying.

They sat drinking the coffee, Sara taking one of the two armchairs and Mrs Abbot and Abigail sharing the sofa. Abigail leaned the cane against the arm of the sofa by her left shoulder.

“So, what’s happening?” Christina Abbot asked. “Obviously, you’ve decided Sara is going to be caned.”

“Yes,” Abigail answered. “I had a chat with Sara and we’ve settled on eight strokes, which should pacify Mrs Briggs and provide a salutary penalty for Sara.”

“It’s what you’ve negotiated, is it?”

“Yes, I felt it was important Sara accepted it as fair. I think she realised whatever we did would have to be a stiff punishment.” Abigail looked at Sara for confirmation.

Sara, though, just sat looking into her coffee.

No one spoke as they finished drinking their coffees, and then Mrs Abbot collected the cups and took them out to the kitchen.

“Would it be best to do it in your bedroom, Sara?” Abigail asked.

Sara shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

When Mrs Abbot returned to the front room, Abigail said, “I was wondering whether Sara would like us to do this in her bedroom, Christina.”

“It’s a bit small and rather cluttered, Abigail. Couldn’t you do it here? I can close the curtains for privacy.”

“Is that okay, Sara?” Abigail asked.

Sara simply shrugged again.

Ignoring her daughter, Christina Abbot busied herself switching the light on and closing the curtains, then asked, “Do you need anything else, Abigail?”

“No, that’s fine, Christina.”

Abigail stood up and picked up her cane.

“Let’s see now, Sara. I think you could bend over the back of this sofa.”

“Now?”

“Yes, please.”

Sara, wearing her school uniform of white blouse, red pullover and black leggings, stood and went with Abigail to the back of the sofa. Sara stood facing the back and, without being asked, pushed down her black leggings and bent over. The back of the sofa was low enough for her to get right over and present her bottom for her punishment.

Abigail looked down at the brief white panties that had ridden up and left most of the lower half of the girl’s bottom quite bare.

“You didn’t need to do that, Sara.”

“Whatever.”

Seeing that Sara didn’t make any attempt to pull her leggings back up, Abigail took a firm grip on the cane and tapped it several times across Sara’s bottom. She drew the cane back and whipped it across Sara’s bottom.

“Ouch!”

Second and third strokes caused Sara to jerk as she was hit, and to sound shrill cries. Abigail looked down at the girl and saw two tears starting to trickle down the side of her face. Another stroke caused another shriek and a small wriggle of her bottom.

Abigail heard Christina Abbot sigh loudly, but ignored her friend and whipped the cane across Sara’s bottom for the fourth stroke. She wondered if she should confirm they were halfway through the punishment, but instead applied another firm stroke.

Sara’s squirming was becoming more pronounced, and the sixth stroke caused a louder, shrill cry.

Abigail could see red lines of weals forming where the cane had struck Sara’s bare bottom cheeks. She would find sitting down quite uncomfortable for a while. The headmistress tried to avoid the previous marks with the seventh stroke and just managed it. She had to look carefully to find somewhere she could finish the punishment while still hitting untouched flesh, but failed.

“Ouch! Oh my god!” Sara near screamed.

Abigail thought about apologising, but decided against it. Instead, she merely stated, “That’s it, Sara. Eight strokes.”

Sara slowly straightened and immediately started rubbing her bottom with both hands.

“Take a few minutes, Sara,” Abigail suggested, looking down at the girl’s now very sore bottom.

“Here, take these tissues,” Sara’s mother offered.

The two older women stood watching Sara as she stopped rubbing her bottom and concentrated on wiping the tears from her face.

“Pull your trousers up and I’ll open the curtains,” her mother suggested.

Sara reached down and pulled up her black leggings, watched by Abigail.

“I obviously hurt you,” Abigail said. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why? I know you’re, like, a family friend, but you’re also my headmistress and you had to punish me.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, Sara. Really I am. No hard feelings?”

“None.”

The End

© Kenny Walters 2026