“Brenda Vickery,” shouted an irate Miss Thompson. “Get yourself to the front of the class. Now!”

Brenda sheepishly made her way towards Miss Thompson’s desk fearing the worst. She knew that Miss Thompson had looked up at the wrong time and caught her throwing a pair of boys’ underpants at her friend, Paula. The underpants had been doing the rounds for a couple of lessons. Nobody quite knew where they had come from, but the game was to chuck them at a classmate and obviously avoid the teacher noticing. Brenda stood trembling as Miss Thompson walked over to the cupboard, searched inside and selected a cane.

“Oh my God,” gasped Brenda in a state of shock. “Surely not the cane.”

A hushed silence descended over the class as Miss Thompson returned carrying a 36 inch cane. This was serious. But Miss Thompson had other ideas for her cane. She walked over to Paula Harland’s desk and located the underpants on the floor. Poking her cane into the underpants, she lifted them and raised them into the air so that they were dangling off the end of the cane.

“Is anyone going to admit to owning this grubby pair of underpants?” she inquired with apparent good humour.

The class relaxed and there was laughter. She walked back to her desk and deposited the underpants into the waste bin before returning the cane to the cupboard. But, unfortunately for Brenda, out came the slipper.

Miss Thompson was very popular. She had once been a pupil at the Florence Naismith School for Girls and had recently returned as a young, newly qualified teacher. She had the knack of making her classes interesting and fun, but she had the reputation if anyone crossed the line they would be on the receiving end of some whacks with the slipper.

“Now then, Brenda, I think throwing underpants at a fellow student is worth four good whacks with my slipper. Three for disrupting my class and one for being such a lousy aim. What do you think?”

Laughter in the class as the tension eased.

“But if whoever threw the pants at you owned up, you could share the pain. Two swats each.”

Brenda was not going to tell on her friend Paula, but almost immediately Paula raised her hand.

“It was me, Miss. Brenda was returning them to me.”

“OK Paula. Please see me at the end of the lesson. Class, settle down. I want you to observe your classmate receiving two licks of my slipper and be reminded that if you disrupt my lessons I will show you no mercy.”

Brenda took up the required position over Miss Thompson’s desk and readied herself to receive two rounds of intense pain being imparted to her bottom. She was no stranger to Miss Thompson’s quick and decisive punishment routine and that went for several of her classmates. Although she was popular, everyone realised that you cross Miss Thompson at your peril. As a first year teacher, four smacks with the slipper was the maximum she was allowed to administer but she challenged herself to exact a cry of pain with each smack.

A loud crack echoed around the classroom accompanied by a howl of pain and despair. Brenda bravely remained in position, energetically wriggling her bottom, trying to dissipate the pain. Miss Thompson waited for her to settle before delivering a second mean swat. Brenda once again loudly voiced her discomfort. Her classmates looked on with a mixture of sympathy and thankfulness it was not them on this occasion. Perhaps one or two of her less sympathetic colleagues found it amusing. Brenda struggled to lift herself from the desk. She was quietly sobbing and her tear-stained face was contorted with pain. Pain that would certainly be evident for the next two hours and a continuing discomfort for at least twelve hours.

“Take five minutes to compose yourself, Brenda,” which meant permission was being given for her to visit the restroom, wash her face and calm herself. As Brenda left the classroom Miss Thompson spoke to the class.

“Girls, can we get back to concentrating on chapter 4 of your workbooks? There’s going to be a test towards the end of the lesson and you don’t to want to be the one who comes last,” she said waving the slipper menacingly, but once again with a smile.

The question now was, why wasn’t Paula given two whacks but instead told to report to Miss Thompson at the end of the lesson? Paula was nervous and the lesson couldn’t come to an end soon enough for her to find out. The 3.45 pm end of lesson bell sounded and all the girls, except Paula, departed, chattering and laughing and hardly paying any attention to Paula who apprehensively approached Miss Thompson’s desk.

“Sit down, Paula,” and Miss Thompson motioned to a chair next to her.

“This is going to come as a shock to you and so I want to explain. Please listen and do not interrupt me. You will have a chance to speak when I have finished.”

Paula nervously acknowledged with a nod of her head.

“I’m going to send you to the headmistress for the cane.”

A shocked Paula immediately cried out. “Miss, please. Why? I haven’t done anything. Just because I threw some underpants?”

“I told you not to interrupt me. Be quiet and listen.”

She observed Paula trembling, and tears were already welling up. It was not in her nature to be cruel but Paula’s reaction gave her some satisfaction because it appeared that she had at last got the girl’s full attention.

Miss Thompson continued. “It’s not just this episode today, but your work has deteriorated to a worryingly low level. You were 4th in the class last term and you have steadily dropped to 11th this term. You used to be first to answer questions and you always took an active part in discussions and now, nothing. You don’t concentrate, incomplete homework, late homework, or even no homework, you disrupt my class and the spanking I gave you two weeks ago has had no effect. You are an intelligent girl and I can’t stand by and watch you throw away your chances of getting good exam results. I think a caning will be good for you. It will help to you refocus. Now you can have your say.”

Paula blurted out a mixture of pleading; not understanding, she would change her ways, couldn’t she take a spanking from Miss Thompson rather than a caning from the headmistress? Miss Thompson looked at the usually confident, sophisticated, immaculate young lady, and now a dishevelled and frightened little schoolgirl, and she felt some sympathy, but remained resolute. She had been there herself. A few stinging reminders with the cane might bring her erring student back on track.

“We are going to do it my way, Paula. I have written out the details on your punishment form to give to Mrs Scott. All I need now is to enter the date. Shall I put today’s date or would you prefer tomorrow? I suggest you go today and get it out of the way. If you go today you need to hurry. Girls due for the cane have to line up outside Mrs Scott’s office at 4 o’clock. You’ve got ten minutes.”

“You can’t do this to me. I’m eighteen years old,” pleaded Paula.

With no answer to her question, the teacher proceeded to enter today’s date. She folded and stapled the punishment form and handed it to the stricken Paula.

“Come on. I’ll walk with you.”

The two set off with Paula still protesting and appealing.

“You don’t have to do this. I promise you will see a change,” she pleaded.

“Glad to hear it. And let’s reinforce you turning over a new leaf with an incentive caning.”

Miss Thompson was surprised by the level of Paula’s distress and would have liked to calm her.

“Paula, it’s tough. I know, I’ve walked this corridor on the way to a visit with the headmistress for a caning. Short term pain for a long term gain.”

“It’s not too late Miss.” Paula tried returning the punishment form to her history teacher. “Rip it up. I’ll be your star pupil.”

Miss Thompson ignored her as they reached Mrs Scott’s office. There was one girl facing the wall, hands on head waiting for that dreaded call from the headmistress. Paula attempted one last despairing appeal but she was cut short by Miss Thompson, putting her finger on her lips indicating quiet was necessary.

She whispered, “Better face the wall and put your hands on your head,” and Paula complied. The game was up. She was resigned to receiving the cane.

Suddenly there was a swish followed by a crack and a squeal coming from inside Mrs Scott’s office. Miss Thompson was immediately aware of the two girls with their noses to the wall tensing and she felt herself tensing a little bit. She couldn’t help but remember her own brush with the cane. A second crack and a louder cry from the recipient. It went quiet for a few seconds and then an inaudible conversation took place. Eventually the door opened and a third former appeared, tears trickling down her flushed cheeks, with Mrs Scott standing behind the girl, hand on her shoulder. She gave her a gentle push to send her on her way.

“That was your second visit to me, Christine. Make sure there isn’t a third.”

Mrs Scott looked to see who was next and saw Miss Thompson.

“Hello, Miss Thompson. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve brought Paula Harland along to see you.”

“You best come in then. You won’t mind waiting will you, Joan?” The headmistress addressed the waiting 4th year girl.

The girl almost cried, “Can I lower my arms Miss? I’ve been here for ages with my hands on my head.”

“All right. Fold your arms in front of you and keep your nose to the wall.”

Miss Thompson and Paula entered.

“So what brings you here, Karen?”

“We’re having problems with Paula’s work and attitude. I and some of her other teachers think some correction would benefit her.”

“What other teachers?” exclaimed Paula angrily.

“Hey!” shouted the headmistress. “Don’t you dare interrupt. Lift up your skirt.”

She approached Paula with some menace, who was slow to comply with the order and so found her skirt being lifted and then being subjected to a stinging slap on her thigh. Quite painful and so degrading.

“Give me your punishment form,” ordered the headmistress.

She took it from Paula, ripped it open and read it. Paula wasn’t quite sure of the exact details that Miss Thompson had written but she was soon to find out.

“So your recommendation to help Miss Harland rejoin the fold is a six stroke caning.”

Paula couldn’t hold back. “Six!” she shouted at Miss Thompson. “Why?” She glared angrily at her teacher, gesticulating with outstretched hands, but very soon was back on the defensive.

“If you can’t control yourself you will be getting six today and six next week,” threatened the headmistress. “Come here,” she ordered.

Paula reluctantly moved towards the headmistress, wishing that she had refrained from challenging her teacher.

“Turn round and lift up your skirt.”

Two hard slaps, one on the back of each thigh, followed. Miss Thompson stood to one side observing and wishing Paula would stop making it harder for herself.

“I don’t expect to be giving the cane to sixth formers, but if they behave badly enough to warrant a caning then I feel justified in using the senior cane.”

Mrs Scott opened her filing cabinet and searched for Paula’s file. Her quick perusal of the disciplinary summary confirmed Paula had an excellent record. She moved ominously to the cupboard where she kept her canes and selected the appropriate implement to deliver a mountain of fear and pain.

“I think you might be jumping around when you feel the effects of this cane, young lady,” she announced with a couple of practice swishes. “And perhaps that will bring you to your senses.”

It suddenly dawned on Paula that she had been making some bad decisions of late. She was angry with the world when she ought to be angry with herself. Too late now. She was facing some real pain and remembered her only previous visit to the headmistress.

Mrs Scott was an experienced, enthusiastic advocate of the cane. Able to accurately get the measure of a girl and determine the severity of the punishment she should administer. There were a few rogue girls in the school. Bullies, truants, fighters, unruly and a bad influence on other girls. But most of the girls that came before her were not intrinsically bad and a few stingers, as she described them, would give them pain for a few hours and that would usually be enough to get them to return to good behaviour.

She assessed Paula and could see a normally well-behaved young lady had somehow come off the rails at a vital stage in her school career. Was it boyfriend trouble? Was it trouble at home? Was it the pressure of important exams rapidly approaching? Was she being unduly influenced by other girls?

“Paula, shall we take a step back? Take a few seconds to compose yourself. You have a good record. Just one caning for smoking a couple of years ago.”

“Yes Miss. But it wasn’t my fault.”

“There you go. Everybody’s fault but yours.”

Paula looked crestfallen but at least the headmistress was appearing to be conciliatory.

“You’re going to get a few painful reminders. Enough to provide you with the incentive to raise your game. I’m sure you will benefit.”

Upon Mrs Scott’s instructions Paula fearfully stepped up to the desk and leaned forward on her elbows.

“Paula. You’re going to have to slip out of your skirt. It’s too tight for me to lift it clear of your bottom.”

Paula stood up. She toyed with the idea that she could pull up her skirt to the required level, but then thought it might badly crease which would not be a good fashion look. So she unzipped it and, with a couple of wiggles, it slipped to the floor. She stepped out of it and picked it up. Showing off her body was never a problem for Paula. Very slim and shapely, and she knew it. Miss Thompson moved forward and took it off her and neatly folded it. Paula, still angry with her, gave her a withering stare, wanting her to feel guilty. Miss Thompson was not enjoying the way this episode was playing out, but was still keen on Paula receiving a sound caning, firmly believing it would encourage her to fulfil her potential.

Paula returned to the desk and took up the required position. Mrs Scott enjoyed the spectacle of the deep red handprints on the girl’s legs and her slim, firm bottom only just covered by a skimpy pair of satin blue knickers. Truth be known, she preferred to cane a larger, rounded, plumper bottom. She had eyed up all her sixth formers and made a mental note of which bottoms she would really like to have at her mercy and Paula was not in her top ten. But nevertheless, she was enjoying the unexpected arrival of a sixth former to her office for a caning.

Paula wondered why the delay. But it was to her advantage. Mrs Scott decided not to use the senior cane after all. After studying Paula’s petite, tight bottom with not much flesh to work on, she concluded the lighter, flexible cane to impart lots of sting might be more appropriate than the deep bruising the senior cane would undoubtedly confer. So she returned the senior cane to her cupboard and picked up the cane she had just used on her last visitor. A nice swishy cane that would deliver some serious stings and have her quarry yelping.

Miss Thompson was not enjoying herself. She had become abundantly aware that Paula was showing considerable hostility towards her, although hostilities in exchange for the girl improving her performance would be an acceptable trade off. Only time would tell. But now the unpleasant business of watching a young lady get a thrashing. She recalled that on the occasion she had slippered Paula, she took it relatively quietly. How would she react to the cane? She had definitely tried everything she could to get out of the cane so she was obviously worried.

The first shot zipped through the air and landed dead centre on what Mrs Scott described to herself as ‘Paula’s rather bony ass.’

A gasp from Paula. The second shot certainly hurt her, eliciting a surprised squeal. The third shot rapidly followed and Paula was not ready for it and let out an audible groan and a whisper.

 “No, please. Too much.”

“What was that, Paula?” asked the headmistress.

“It’s really hurting, Miss.”

“Halfway there,” was the headmistress’s reply, showing no sympathy.

Both the headmistress and Miss Thompson were taking notice of Paula’s bottom. The headmistress admiring her handiwork. Miss Thompson fascinated in a rather morbid way at the developing angry red welts. Apart from when she herself was caned as a pupil some seven years previously, she had very little experience of a caning episode. As a first year teacher she was allowed to dispense a maximum of four swats with the slipper to mischievous students. Paula was the first pupil she had sent to the headmistress for a caning.

The fourth shot was fired in with extra strength and Paula was now suffering and burst into tears. With two shots to go Mrs Scott spoke to Paula.

“You will need to complete your homework on time. You will not disrupt the class. You will rise to the class position that Miss Thompson expects of you. If not, you will be invited to have another discussion with my cane. OK?”

“Yes, Miss. Can I rub my bum?”

“You may,” replied the headmistress, not out of kindness but for the joy of watching Paula rub that cute bottom.

Paula stood up and reached behind to try and bring some relief to her tortured bottom, but it hardly helped. She was just glad of a respite but knew two more strokes were on their way. Time to negotiate.

“Thank you Miss for helping me to see the error of my ways. I don’t think I need the last two strokes. I’ve got the message.”

Mrs Scott chuckled. She loved it when the recipients of her cane back chatted. It showed character.

“What do you think?” she asked a startled Miss Thompson.

A dilemma. She could try and get back to some kind of rapport with Paula by agreeing to reduce her punishment, or remain strong and go for the full six. But she dithered and a surprising turn of events occurred.

“Karen, rather than being a spectator I want you to complete Paula’s punishment. Here. Take the cane.”

A bemused Miss Thompson looked uncomfortable. She was not expecting this. Once again, she was aware of the angry glare being directed towards her by Paula.

“I can’t,” she stuttered. “I’m only allowed to use the slipper.”

“Under my supervision, you can most certainly gain some useful practice using the cane, and who better than Paula to provide you with that experience?”

The headmistress thrust her cane into Miss Thompson’s hand.

“Paula, please resume your position. Karen, take a couple of practice swishes.”

Miss Thompson was out of her comfort zone. Yes, she had dished out many hard spankings with the slipper. Skill not required. Just let fly with whatever strength she deemed reasonable, knowing that she was not going to cause long term damage. But the cane was a different animal. She had heard stories.

“Come now, Miss Thompson. Don’t be shy. Line yourself up to Paula’s shoulders, get your balance, choose where you want to connect and her bottom is all yours to decorate.”

Paula closed her eyes and prayed. If Miss Thompson used the same force as with her slipper, she was in for a most painful time. Miss Thompson was nervous, but also thrilled at this unexpected new experience. Raising the cane to shoulder height and not paying any attention to accuracy, she produced a very soft strike that landed on Paula’s already striped bottom, Paula taking it without a murmur.

“My God, Karen. You let her get away with one there,” remarked the headmistress.

Miss Thompson lacked the experience and courage to deliver a meaningful strike and the delivery of her second effort was no more effective than her first strike. The headmistress shook her head, disappointed with Miss Thompson’s puny effort.

“Remind me not to ask you to stand in for me if I’m absent,” asserted Mrs Scott rather sarcastically.

Turning her attention to Paula, who was trying desperately but not succeeding, to hold back tears, the girl was ordered to stand.

“Get yourself dressed and off home. I’ll be sending a letter to your parents in due course.” The headmistress spoke in gentler tones. “The letter won’t be all negative. I think you have proved to be a good student and let’s hope with this caning we can get you back on track.”

Paula and Miss Thompson left together and walked silently towards the classroom where Paula had left her school books. They could hear the headmistress addressing the waiting fourth year girl, apologising for having kept her waiting.

Miss Thompson broke the silence. “You may not think it, but as unpleasant as this was, I did it for your benefit.”

Paula angrily snapped back her response. “I don’t believe you. You enjoyed my humiliation and suffering. You couldn’t wait to join in.”

And with that Paula stomped into the restroom and slammed the door behind her.

‘Tomorrow is another day. She’ll calm down,’ thought the ruffled teacher to herself.

The End

© Robert Roberts 2021