Jane Pearson was always a quiet girl. Slim, pretty in an ordinary way, her medium brown hair usually fastened back in a ponytail, not good at games; it wasn’t that Jane was unpopular, it was just that few seemed to notice her. Miss Clarke was different though. Miss Clarke recognised Jane’s undoubted talent at Mathematics and Physics, subjects they both enjoyed and excelled in, one as pupil and the other as teacher.

It wasn’t surprising, then, that Miss Clarke was the one to spot Jane was quieter than usual. Nor, considering their good relationship, was it surprising that Miss Clarke should call Jane to her desk at the end of the double Physics lesson, as all the others filed out of the classroom and on to their afternoon break.

“Is everything alright, Jane?” The young teacher asked with genuine concern.

“Oh, yes miss.”

“Come off it, Jane. I know you too well for that. What’s the problem?”

“Um...”

“Sit down, Jane. Tell me all about it. We’ve got time.”

Jane sat down beside the tall, blonde young teacher. “It’s just that Mrs Rogers caught me smoking in the woods during the lunchbreak.”

“Smoking? You? Since when did you start smoking, Jane?”

“I didn’t. I mean, I only bought a packet to try.”

“Why, Jane?”

“I don’t know. I suppose because some of the other girls have been talking about it. Some of the more popular ones, that is, and I just wanted to see what it was like.”

“Jane, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone. You know that, don’t you?”

“I suppose so.” Jane didn’t sound convinced.

“So, what’s going to happen?”

“I’m not sure. I think Mrs Rogers is going to report me to the headmistress.” Jane paused, on the point of tears, before adding very quietly, “I imagine she’ll cane me.”

“Yes, I imagine that is a real possibility. How do you feel about that, Jane?”

“Frightened.”

Miss Clarke nodded understandingly, her face displaying genuine sympathy for the predicament Jane found herself in. “Yes, I think I would be too.”

“Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Would you like me to see if there’s anything I can do, Jane?”

“What can you do, miss?”

“I don’t know. Possibly nothing. But I can try, if you’d like me to.”

“Yes, thank you, miss.”

At ten minutes to four, Jane was back in her form room waiting with her classmates for the final register to be taken and for the final bell of the day to sound, allowing them all home. Except that Jane was expecting a special instruction for her not to proceed on her way home, but to make her way to the headmistress’s study.

By three minutes to four, the register had been completed and Jane was beginning to hope she might just be allowed home after all. Then, suddenly, her hopes were dashed.

“Jane Pearson, please see Miss Clarke before you leave.”

Jane’s heart had began to pound the moment she heard her name called. At least, though, it was the likeable Miss Clarke she had to see, not the headmistress. That was odd. Still worrying, but better than it might have been.

“You wanted to see me?” Jane called after tapping on Miss Clarke’s classroom door and pushing it half open.

“Yes, come in Jane.” The tall young blonde teacher was sitting at her desk marking some exercise books, but she stopped writing and put the top on her pen when Jane approached her desk. “Sit down.”

Jane sat on the small chair next to Miss Clarke’s desk.

“I’ve had a word with Mrs Rogers and she has indeed reported you to the headmistress.”

“Oh.” Jane looked quite downcast even though the news was nothing more than she had been expecting.

“I’ve also spoken to the headmistress and I’m afraid the only punishment on the table is the cane. Six strokes. According to the headmistress, it’s automatic for smoking or being found in possession of smoking materials.”

Jane nodded. She already knew that. Everyone in the school knew it.

“I’m afraid you have to report to the headmistress’s study at four-fifteen for the punishment to be administered.”

Jane nodded again. She checked her watch. It was already seven minutes past. “I’d better get going then, miss.”

“I’ll come with you.” The two stood up together, and Miss Clarke placed a hand on Jane’s shoulder as she steered her towards the door.

“It’s okay, miss. I don’t mind going on my own,” Jane said as they walked along the corridor.

“It’s no trouble,” Miss Clarke answered.

Jane, who wasn’t totally certain she wanted the presence of the pretty young teacher, began checking the state of her uniform grey trousers and black and white striped blazer and brushed several imaginary specks of dust off as they neared the headmistress’s study.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“I’m sorry, miss?” Jane thought she’d misheard.

“Do you want me to cane you, Jane?”

“Would that be allowed?”

“That was the one concession the headmistress was prepared to make, Jane. I explained this was all so out of character for you and that the prospect of being punished by someone you hardly knew would be much more onerous than perhaps for some of the other girls.”

“Yes, possibly.” Jane realised some of the other girls might be better able to cope with a caning from the headmistress than her.

“It’s your decision of course, Jane, but it would obviously be a bit friendlier and less formal if I were to do it.”

“Yes.” Jane was feeling extremely nervous and didn’t really take in the full meaning of Miss Clarke’s words.

“You accept? That’s great! I’ll have to punish you properly, of course, but it’ll be so much better. Trust me!”

By this time they were outside the headmistress’s study and, with Jane in something of a blind panic, she was certainly in no fit state to argue.

“You wait here, Jane, and I’ll let the headmistress know your decision. I expect she’ll be glad to get off home early!”

Before Jane could answer, Miss Clarke had entered the headmistress’s study and all she could hear was a muffled conversation going on within.

A couple of fellow sixth form girls, who Jane knew only slightly, passed by and gave her an odd look as they saw her waiting outside the study. Minutes later, the door opened.

“Goodnight, Carol.” The headmistress called as she left her study. She gave Jane a knowing smile as she closed the door behind her and left the eighteen year old standing on her own again.

Jane waited, wondering what could be taking Miss Clarke so long, and then the door opened again.

“Okay, I think we’re ready now.” Miss Clarke held the door open for Jane to pass through, her welcoming smile not enough to relax the shy sixth form girl.

When Jane entered the study, she found herself in a quite large room with pale green painted walls and light oak furniture throughout. Over to the left, a coffee table stood with several well upholstered chairs surrounding it, while to the right a large office desk faced her with an equally impressive black executive chair behind it. The desk was clear of all paperwork and other paraphernalia; there was just a three foot long cane complete with crook handle resting on the top.

“Impressive, eh?” Miss Clarke came up behind Jane.

“Er, yes. Very nice,” Jane agreed, even though her eyes remained focused on the cane.

“Shall I order us coffee?” Miss Clarke said with a laugh as she sat down on the large executive chair behind the desk. “Only joking,” she added when Jane appeared shocked.

“I had to assure the headmistress you’d never even dream of smoking again, Jane. I hope you can keep to that.”

“No fear! Definitely.”

“That’s alright then.” Miss Clarke relaxed back into the large executive chair. “You can get ready whenever you want.”

“Get ready?”

“For your whacking, silly! No rush on my account. It’s only if you want to get it over with.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, miss,” Jane answered, feeling any delay was welcome.

“Do you think I’d make a good headmistress, Jane?”

“Er, yes miss.”

“I could certainly get to like working in this office.”

“Yes, it’s very nice,” Jane agreed, even if she wasn’t feeling relaxed in its environment.

“I suppose I’d have to be stricter, wouldn’t I?”

“Possibly.”

“Do you want to get on with it?”

“It might be best.” Jane was worried the headmistress might return and be annoyed to find them in this casual state. “What do I have to do?”

“Okay,” Miss Clarke sat upright in the chair. “Let’s see now. Do you want to go over by the coffee table and take your blazer, shoes and trousers off?”

“What?” Jane wasn’t sure whether the teacher was being serious.

“Oh Jane! You didn’t think you’d just be holding your hand out, did you? Not for six of the best.”

“Well, I didn’t know.” Jane felt extremely awkward and uncomfortable. She hadn’t given a thought about how the punishment might be administered. I suppose it would be a bit much,” she conceded.

“I should say,” Miss Clarke confirmed. “Anyway, you wouldn’t want to deny me the pleasure of smacking your bottom, would you?”

“No, miss,” Jane replied, feeling very uneasy at the suggestion the teacher was relishing the prospect of smacking her on the bottom. For some peculiar reason, her mind raced back to times when some of the other girls in her class had considered it great fun to hold her down and pull down her trousers or undo her blouse when a teacher had left the room.

When Jane looked across at her teacher, she saw Miss Clarke had picked up the cane and was idly toying with it.

“That’s the school cane, is it?” she asked.

“It is, although I imagine there’s a couple of spares around somewhere. I doubt the headmistress would want to put off a caning while they waited for a fresh one to be delivered.”

“No, probably not.”

Jane, reminded of the fundamental reason for their presence, and still feeling less than comfortable in the headmistress’s office, felt she needed to move things forward. She went over to the coffee table and its encircling chairs.

Jane’s black and white striped blazer came off easily enough and was soon draped over the back of one of the chairs. It felt curiously odd to be unfastening her trousers in the surroundings of this office though, and Jane froze with her fingers on the top button. She looked across at Miss Clarke, but the teacher was paying her no attention.

“I feel very uncomfortable taking my trousers off, here in this office,” Jane commented, although she had already unfastened the button of the waistband was now sliding the zip down as she spoke.

“I’m sure you’re by no means the first girl to parade across the carpet in her knickers, Jane.” Miss Clarke looked across briefly, before returning to fiddling with the cane.

“No, I suppose not,” Jane paused. “Girls are always caned on their knickers, are they?”

“The headmistress didn’t really say, Jane.”

The reply astonished the eighteen year old. Was she being singled out for special treatment? Should she ask? Or just get on with it? Her trousers were now down around her ankles, so she bent down to disentangle them, and found her shoes obstructing the operation. She sat on one of the chairs to take them off and make it easier.

“Is this okay?” Jane asked, now clothed in just her white blouse and underwear. The tails of the blouse were quite long, almost like a very short skirt, and certainly long enough for to conceal her knickers.

“Very fetching!” Miss Clarke smiled. “Okay, where do you want to go? Over the desk or over the back of one of those chairs?”

“Sorry?”

“Would you prefer to bend over this desk or over one of those armchairs?”

Jane looked across at the hard wooden surface of the desk, then at the comfortably upholstered chairs grouped around the coffee table.

“These armchairs look a bit more comfortable,” She observed.

“Okay, we’ll have you over the back of a chair then.” Miss Clarke got up, the cane in her right hand, and went over to Jane. “Let’s use this one.” She selected the one next to where Jane had deposited her clothes and patted the padded top rail with the tip of the cane to indicate her choice.

Jane didn’t move.

“Stand here.” The teacher pointed the cane at the carpet just to the back of the chair she had selected.

Jane hesitantly moved to the spot.

“Okay, bend over.”

Jane turned to look at the teacher, clutching the cane in both hands and looking uncharacteristically very serious. Jane shuddered as the seriousness of her situation became apparent once again. She Jane eased herself over the back of the chair and thrust her head down towards the seat. She was submitting herself to her punishment, offering her bottom for Miss Clarke to administer severe punishment. To add to her predicament, she felt the tail of her blouse ride up and surely reveal, in part at least, her knickers.

“Let’s get this out of the way.” Miss Clarke took hold of the hem of the blouse and turned it right up until even Jane’s bra strap was exposed. “Oh, they’re very cheeky!” She commented when she saw the eighteen year old’s very brief, high cut, white knickers. “I’m surprised at you, Jane!”

“Probably not the best choice for this, but then I wasn’t expecting to be caned.”

“True.” Miss Clarke playfully patted Jane’s virtually naked bottom. “What are you doing wearing such sexy underwear to this place, anyway? I had you marked down for sensible, comfortable.”

“Some of the other girls do. I was just trying to keep up.”

“Oh, Jane! I keep telling you. You really don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I know.”

“Well, it’s certainly going to cost you now, isn’t it? Those skimpy little pants aren’t going to protect you at all.”

“You could let me put my trousers back on.”

“I could, but I’m not going to. In fact, I’m quite tempted to give you a good spanking as well for wearing such underwear.”

“Oh please! No!”

“It’s alright. I’m only joking.” Miss Clarke gave Jane’s near naked bottom another couple of pats. “It’s still tempting though.”

Jane turned her head and saw Miss Clarke gazing down at her bottom with a curious smile. Despite feeling uncomfortable that her near naked bottom should attract such attention from her teacher, nonetheless a strange warmth came over the eighteen year old. She said nothing.

“I suppose we’d better get on with it.” Miss Clarke’s voice interrupted Jane’s mixed emotions.

“I guess so.”

“Okay. Ready?”

When the cane tapped lightly across Jane’s bare flesh she flinched. The cane felt cold and hard, compared to the gentle soft hand she’d felt a few moments ago. Then the cane vanished, there was a swish and a crack, and then Jane’s bottom felt like it had been scorched by a red hot poker. She gasped.

The cane tapped her again, just a fraction higher. The whoosh and sharp low thud followed almost instantly, and the scorching rod seared Jane’s exposed bottom again. The sixth form girl gasped a second time.

Still smarting from the effects of the first two strokes, Jane flinched visibly as the cane tapped slightly higher still. Before she had time to think, the cane swished and thudded, and brought another searing flash of pain that stung sharper than a wasp could ever achieve.

Now the cane tapped menacingly, low down where across the fleshiest part of her pear-shaped bottom. In an instant, the cane whooshed and cracked, and a further attack of searing hurt caused Jane’s eyes to water.

“Would you like a tissue?” The voice was calm amongst the turmoil Jane was experiencing.

“Not for a minute, miss.” The reply sounded formal in contrast.

Miss Clarke’s response was to tap Jane’s bottom with the cane, just a millimetre higher than the previous stroke. The swish, the crack and the burning pain rapidly followed, but through the agony Jane was grateful because now there was just one stroke to follow and her ordeal would be over.

Jane waited, mentally seeking the warning taps, but Miss Clarke was taking her time. Just as the eighteen year old was about to look round, they came. Five or even six taps, rather than the previous two three or four, warned Jane to brace herself.

A longer whoosh, a louder crack, and an even more agonising flash of burning pain across the middle of her bottom that caused tears to burst from her eyes, marked the conclusion of Jane’s punishment.

Seconds passed as the eighteen year old struggled with the torturous pain, and then she heard the soft calm voice.

“You can get up now.”

Even the simple task of straightening herself up from over the back of the chair felt torturous, but Jane accomplished it somehow. She gently explored her sore naked buttocks and felt the ridges lined across the soft mounds.

“Would you like that tissue now?”

“Yes please.”

Jane felt a tissue handkerchief being pressed into her hand and she took it gratefully.

“That certainly tanned your bottom, Jane. I bet it feels as sore as it looks.”

“It does,” Jane croaked as she tried to stem the flow of tears from her eyes.

When some semblance of clear vision was finally restored, Jane found Miss Clarke was sitting on the arm of the chair next to the one over which she had been caned. Then she felt delicate hands holding her by the hips and pulling her towards her teacher until she was held in a comforting embrace.

“I’m sorry, but it had to be done.” The teacher said tenderly.

“I know it did. My fault. I should never have brought cigarettes into school.”

“That’s very true. Are you going to be okay?”

“Probably.” Jane smiled weakly. “Yes, of course I’ll be okay. I’ve only had my bottom smacked, after all.”

“Want a lift home?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

“I suppose I’d better let you get dressed then.”

“It might be best.”

As Jane turned to the chair where her clothes lay across the back, she felt her teacher’s delicate hands lightly touching her near naked bottom.

“I didn’t think it would mark your bottom so much,” Miss Clarke observed.

The hands stayed in contact when Jane picked up her trousers and prepared to put them on.

“Are you going to let me put my trousers on?” The hint of mirth in Jane’s voice was unmistakable.

“I suppose.” The hands fell away, and Jane felt the gentlest of pats on her bottom.

Jane was able to put her trousers on unaided, her only difficulty being that her bottom now seemed a little swollen, causing the trousers to feel extra tight.

“How do you think you’ll do in your Applied Physics exam next week?”

“I think I should be okay, but I’m still nervous about it. I ought to do some more revision really. It’s just finding the motivation.” Jane spoke as she slipped her blazer back on.

“Make sure you do! I’ll spank your bottom if you fail.”

“I believe you!”

The End

© Sheila MacIntosh 2009