You're walking along the corridor and it's already five past four. At least there's no-one else in sight other than right at the far end where the last few girls are making for the exit on their way home. If only you were among their number, as you usually would be at this time of day.

Half way along, you reach the main entrance, the smartest entrance which only visitors to the school use and through which girls dare not tread. It's tempting to make a quick dash for freedom, knowing that no member of staff would be able to catch you even if they did happen to see you. It would be a pointless exercise anyway because you'd still have to face up to things tomorrow.

You can hear the two school secretaries tapping away at computer keyboards and the faint sound of conversation. There's an open counter to greet visitors, but you go for the door to their office. A quick tap and you're in.

Mrs Andrews, the senior of the two, stops typing and looks up, while Laura Parsons, her young assistant, keeps tapping away. Mrs Andrews, you've never learnt her first name despite your six years at the school, is middle-aged and known for her love of cream cakes, as attested by her matronly figure. Laura, by contrast, is young and blond, maybe in her early twenties at most, and that makes it doubly embarrassing for you.

"Can I help you, Harriet?" Mrs Andrews asks, perhaps a little surprised to see you here after school has ended.

"Um, I need to see the headmistress please." Your cheeks feel very warm and you know you're blushing but you can't help it. "I have a note," you say, waving the piece of paper under Mrs Andrews' nose as proof you're not lying.

The senior lady takes the note and reads it carefully. She takes another look at you. Is that a hint of surprise in her expression? Or does she know? The way Laura Parsons is keeping her head down with just sly, furtive glances at you suggests the latter.

"Please take a seat, Harriet."

The hand waves you towards a row of four small chairs between the door to the corridor and the wall adjacent to Miss Foster's study. You take the second chair and sit, fiddling with your honey blond hair that you tied back earlier into a ponytail. Your bag with your books and homework is deposited on the third chair.

"Headmistress, I have Harriet Jenkins to see you." Mrs Andrews speaks into the telephone, and your heart pounds as you hear your name mentioned. "Very good, headmistress. Yes, I'll tell her."

Replacing the receiver, Mrs Andrews turns to you. "Miss Foster won't be long, Harriet."

You smile, weakly, to acknowledge. The senior secretary then goes over to her assistant with several papers and whispers in her ear. Laura Parsons steals another secretive glance at you and you wonder whether it's you they're talking about. Perhaps the sheets of paper were just a subterfuge so Mrs Andrews could speak to Laura discreetly. There's a large office clock on the wall and you see it's now nine minutes past four. Your attention is caught by the second hand clicking quietly round, pausing momentarily to record each passing second. The seconds turn into minutes and you look around the office.

On the further wall, just past where Laura's desk is situated, there is a walk-in cupboard where the stationery is kept. A row of filing cabinets, light-oak faced, are directly opposite you, and that makes you wonder what the records say about you. Or are yours already in with Mrs Foster?

Suddenly, a door opens, but it's the door from the corridor and Mr Wheldon, the Geography teacher, pokes his head through.

"Any chance of a brief word with Miss Foster, Mrs Andrews?" He sees you sitting there and smiles.

"I'm afraid the headmistress is quite busy at the moment, Mr Wheldon. Is there any chance you could make it tomorrow?"

"Um," Mr Wheldon, Percy to the sixth form, although his real name is Peter, thinks about it. "Yes, I'll try and catch up with her tomorrow morning."

In an instant, the door is closed and you are alone with the two secretaries once more. You barely have time to collect your thoughts before a door opens again, but this time it's the door leading to Miss Foster's study, and it's her face that peers round at you.

"Come along, Harriet. In you come." The face is stern and unsmiling. As she holds the door open for you, you fluster around with your bags.

"You can leave your things with us, Harriet." Mrs Andrews spots your panic. "We'll look after them for you."

"Tha-thanks," you stutter, then give your dark blue skirt a quick brush down before heading through the open door.

Miss Foster's study is more sumptuously furnished than the secretaries' office but, in spite of never having seen the inside before, it's not the lavishness that shocks you, it's the sight of Amanda Harper-Davies, the Head Girl, sitting in a chair behind and in proximity to Miss Foster's chair.

"Harriet." Amanda greets you evasively; all you can manage in return is the briefest and weakest of smiles.

"Sit down, Harriet." Miss Foster flits past you and waves you towards a chair placed squarely and precisely in front of her desk. In your eyes, it resembles a dock placed there for the accused. "Now, what have you been up to, eh?"

"Um."

"Let's see now." The headmistress scans a number of documents spread over her desk, as though needing to remind herself of the facts. "Yes, tell me about the incident on the bus, Harriet. From your point of view."

"The bus?" You know only too well what the headmistress is talking about, but you need to gain some time to think about your response, even though you've thought of little else for the past two days.

"I'm sure you know what I mean, Harriet, so please don't prevaricate."

"Do you mean the little altercation I had with Rachel Burnside, miss?"

"Do you have many altercations on buses, Harriet?"

"No, miss!" You answer indignantly.

"I'm pleased to hear it, Harriet. So, let's assume it was indeed the incident with Rachel Burnside."

You shrug. "There's not really much to say, miss. I was on the top deck of the bus and Rachel seemed to be harassing a couple of younger girls. Several other passengers had noticed and appeared concerned, so I stepped in."

"Yes, Harriet, go on."

A deep breath. "It was something and nothing, miss. Rachel appeared to be having a rather loud confrontation with two third form girls, and I could see some of the other passengers were watching and looking none too pleased, so I had a word with Rachel to maintain the good name of the school, Ma'am."

Good one! 'Maintain the good name of the school'; she'll like that.

"So, Rachel accepted your intervention and all was well, was it Harriet?"

"Well, I thought so, miss."

"But?"

"When we got off the bus, miss, you see, Rachel and I live fairly near each other so we get off at the same stop. Rachel told me I should have minded my own business and left the third year girls to her."

"Now, you're both upper sixth girls and neither of you is a prefect. Is that correct, Harriet? You have equal status?"

"Yes, miss."

"And that is what Rachel reminded you of when you got off the bus together, is that correct?"

"Yes, miss."

"And you then said?"

You feel your face becoming hot and flushed again. "I can't really remember, miss. I may have suggested she could perhaps have handled the situation a little more calmly, that sort of thing."

"But just words, Harriet? You didn't grab her arm or smack her or anything like that, of course?"

"Um."

"Yes, Harriet?"

"Well, there was a bit of an altercation. Yes, miss."

"Which you started?"

"No, miss!" You answer instinctively. "She raised her arm to me and I defended myself. That's all."

"So, you didn't both end up rolling around on the pavement?"

"Um."

"At this point, Harriet, I should perhaps advise you the matter was witnessed by a member of the public who reported the matter to the school."

"Um."

"And you were finally separated by a person who happens to be related to a member of our teaching staff."

"Um."

"Let me tell you the gist of what these two people told me, Harriet. Otherwise I fancy we're going to be here all night getting to the bottom of it."

"Yes, miss," you murmur.

"Something of a tugging match broke out between the two of you. It resulted in you both ending up on the pavement, whereupon you pulled Rachel's skirt up and administered a number of hard smacks to her bottom. Thus, Rachel suffered the double indignity of having her underwear exposed to passing members of the public as well as being subjected to, effectively, a public spanking at your hands. How does that sound, Harriet?"

"Um."

"I'll say again, Harriet, this episode was witnessed by several members of the public, two of whom I have since spoken to."

"Yes, miss," you acknowledge grudgingly.

"That would be a fair representation of what happened, would it Harriet?"

"Yes, miss. I suppose so."

"Just so you're aware, Harriet, Rachel did not herself report the matter to the school and was indeed quite reluctant to discuss it with me or any other member of staff."

"Really, miss?"

"Yes, really, Harriet."

You're surprised, which perhaps leads Amanda Harper-Davies to finally speak. "It's true, Harriet. I had heard the odd rumour floating around, which is what led me to speak to Rachel. But she was very reluctant to talk about it and certainly didn't want to report you herself. Then, later Miss Foster spoke to me and I learnt that other outside people had contacted the school."

So, you might have got away with it, perhaps with a little retaliation at some point from Rachel, were it not for your fight being so public. Not that it helps you now.

"Obviously, I'm going to punish you, Harriet." The headmistress breaks the silence.

You bite your lower lip.

Miss Foster looks to Amanda Harper-Davies for inspiration. Amanda shrugs. The headmistress looks again with one eyebrow raised. Amanda gets up and whispers something in Miss Foster's ear, then sits back down again.

"I'm trying hard not to think of suspension or even expulsion, Harriet. This is a very serious matter, you know."

"Yes, miss."

"There is, of course, one other option. I could cane you."

It's your turn to raise your eyebrows. "Yes, miss."

"You agree?" Miss Foster's voice is raised in surprise.

"No, I mean, sorry, I was just acknowledging that was another option, miss."

"So, you decline being caned as an option?"

"No, it's just that, well, I am eighteen, miss."

"You feel you're too old for a whacking, is that it, Harriet?"

"Something like that, miss."

"Well, it is unusual for a sixth form girl to receive corporal punishment; that much is true. However, we have always applied similar disciplinary sanctions throughout the school and sixth form girls certainly are not exempt."

You nod thoughtfully. You already knew that.

"It's really up to you, Harriet." Miss Foster continues. "The very minimum term of suspension I could impose for something like this is four weeks. Your record here has generally been pretty good, so I'll remove expulsion as a possibility. I'm not sure how we can get around a four week suspension affecting your exam preparation, but we'll find a way. Or, you can accept my offer to cane you. It's entirely up to you."

"Um." Neither of the two options has immediate appeal. Your mind becomes overwhelmed with thoughts about your friends knowing, your parents knowing, having to explain things."

"If it helps, Harriet," Amanda Harper-Davies decides to speak, "You would not be the first sixth form girl to be caned this term."

You glare at her in surprise. She nods to confirm, then glances pointedly at the headmistress for corroboration.

"Yes, that is true actually," Miss Foster acknowledges.

"Two girls, as it happens," Amanda adds, and the headmistress nods again.

Your eyes alternate between the two females on the opposite side of the desk.

"Would, um?" You struggle to ask the question on your lips.

"Yes, Harriet?" Miss Foster looks up.

"Would your parents need to know?" Amanda suggests. "Is that what you wanted to ask, Harriet?"

You nod.

"It would have to go into the school punishment book, of course." Miss Foster declares. "We don't need to contact your parents, especially as you are eighteen, not that I'm suggesting you should have secrets from your parents."

"Okay." There, you said it.

"I'm sorry?"

"I think I would prefer to accept the caning and get it over with, miss." There's a tremor in your voice, and already you're having second thoughts.

"Well done, Harriet." Amanda seems pleased.

"Probably the correct decision." Miss Foster agrees.

"When, um?" You look at your watch. It's almost half past four.

"Do you need to get away, Harriet?"

"Um." It would be a good excuse, but then you'd have the same dilemma tomorrow. "No, er no, miss."

"Then let's get on with it, shall we?" Miss Foster's face contorts. It's probably her version of a smile. "Would you be so kind as to wait back in the secretaries' office for a few moments, Harriet, while we get things ready?"

"Um, er, yes, okay."

You stand up and immediately Amanda comes over to you. "Come on, Harriet, I'll go with you and explain."

That's the last thing you want but, before you can protest, Miss Foster pipes up again.

"While you're there, Amanda, could you ask Mrs Andrews for a cane and the school punishment book, please?"

"Of course, headmistress. Come along, Harriet."

You find yourself being almost dragged by the arm through to the outer office.

"Take a seat, Harriet." Amanda lets go of your arm. Both the school secretaries look round to see what's happening.

"It's okay if Harriet waits here for a few minutes, isn't it?" Amanda asks Mrs Andrews. "And could we have a cane and the punishment book, please."

"We?" Mrs Andrews asks.

"For me to take to the headmistress." Amanda seems indignant at the implied put-down.

"Of course." Mrs Andrews glances briefly at you before turning to her assistant. "Laura, could you fetch a cane and the punishment book, please? You know where they are, don't you?"

"Of course." Laura Parsons seems stunned as she looks across. She gets up and goes into the stationery cupboard. "Which cane will Miss Foster want?" You hear from the depths of the cupboard.

"Either of the two on the right, Laura." Mrs Andrews calls back. "They're for, um, they'll be suitable."

Laura emerges from the cupboard with a crook-handled cane in one hand and a red exercise book in the other. She glares straight at you as she hands them both to Amanda.

When the Head Girl disappears back into Miss Foster's study, Laura sits back down at her desk, but she keeps her eyes on you. You smile back weakly and she acknowledges with a grimace before returning to her typing.

You know you're not looking forward to the next few minutes. You've never heard of any girl having been caned by Miss Foster, which makes it hard to anticipate what it will be like. Above all else, though, you just want to get it over with and you hope that none of your friends get to hear about it. Or your parents.

Suddenly, the door to Miss Foster's study opens and Amanda is in the doorway.

"Almost ready, Harriet," she says. Then, as you try and settle your nerves yet again, she adds, "Oh, it would be extremely helpful if you could slip your shoes and skirt off, and tights or stockings too, of course."

Before you can argue, she disappears back into the study and closes the door. All you can do for the moment is sit in stunned silence.

"I'll lock the door," Mrs Andrews says. "Just in case there are any male members of staff still around."

At least that confirms that you heard Amanda correctly. As Mrs Andrews sits back down, you look at her and she nods slowly.

“Might as well get ready here, Harriet. Then you can go straight in and, you know, get it done.”

You get to your feet, your legs shaking, and, conscious of Laura watching, you kick off your shoes and unzip your skirt. Your fingers struggle to undo the button but you manage and then you slide the skirt down your legs and off. Your tights soon follow and you feel extremely self-conscious as you stand in just your white blouse, bra and brief blue knickers.

For a moment, you play with your knickers, trying to get them to stretch and cover the whole of your bottom. But they don't. With your back to Laura, you can just feel her looking at the lower, bare, portions of your bottom.

"Won’t be long," you hear Mrs Andrews say.

That doesn’t make you feel any better. You sit back down. The chair feels cold against your bottom.

"I hear I'm not the first," you say, trying to make your situation appear less humiliating in Laura’s eyes.

"No, certainly not the first." Mrs Andrews answers.

"It's really quite quick," adds Laura, trying to be helpful.

You smile briefly at the young secretary, pleased she seems sympathetic. Then the door opens and Amanda appears.

"It's time, Harriet." The Head Girl holds the door open for you and you hesitantly go through.

Immediately, you see that Miss Foster's desk has been cleared of all the paperwork, and even the telephone has been put to one side, as has the chair in front of the desk. Miss Foster stands by the side of her desk holding the cane that Amanda collected.

"Bend over the desk, Harriet," The headmistress commands. "Get right down onto it and thrust your bottom out."

You almost stagger across the room and dive across the polished walnut surface. Instinctively, you reach for the further edge and wrap your fingers around it. The wooden surface feels hard and uncompromising beneath your body and you feel the front edge pushing into the tops of your thighs.

"Bottom out a little more, Harriet," Miss Foster directs, and you make what seems an insignificant adjustment to push your bottom back. Your thin skimpy underwear makes you feel particularly vulnerable.

Amanda is now standing next to you. "Just folding your blouse up out of the way, Harriet."

Having lifted your blouse so high your bra straps are exposed, Amanda goes around the desk and gives your honey blond ponytail a caress before finally resting her hands on your shoulders.

"Hold still, Harriet." Miss Foster taps the cane across your bottom twice and you grip the further edge of the desk for all you are worth.

"Yeouch!!" You exclaim as the cane slashes onto the seat of your knickers. Automatically, you jerk up and feel Amanda's hands pressing on your shoulders.

Within moments, you are being tapped on the bottom again.

"Unnh!!" You grunt as the cane whips your backside a second time. The pain is sharp as a knife and sears your buttocks like a branding iron.

Amanda softly strokes your shoulders and you find it just so annoying.

"Yeouch!!" The cane snaps across the higher part of your bottom and jumps off. It stings and smarts, and you wonder how much longer you're going to be in this painful and humiliating position.

"Sheesh!!" The next stroke whips across the centre of your bottom where it's already sore from previous strokes. Your shoulders jerk upwards but the restraining pressure from Amanda's hands keeps you in place.

Just as you ask yourself how much longer this is going on for, the cane cracks across the lower part of your bottom, sending you up on tip-toe.

"Eeeesh!!"

You look upward and can see into Amanda's face. She has an expression of pure concentration. You feel she's probably enjoying this, but certainly there's no outward sign. You grip the far edge of the desk even more tightly, and within seconds the cane slams across your bottom. You can’t help the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Another look at Amanda, and her eyes meet yours. She smiles sympathetically.

You look upward and can see into Amanda's face. She has an expression of pure concentration. You feel she's probably enjoying this, but certainly there's no outward sign.

You're still looking at her as the cane lashes your bottom again, higher and more in the centre.

"Oh my God!!" You gasp, the pain seemingly more intense and more burning than before. Even Amanda appeared to flinch. Tears are now rolling down your face and you just want this to be over.

"Right, Harriet, we'll call it a day there." Miss Foster’s voice is calm and even.

That's it? No more? You can get up? You realise Amanda has removed her hands from your shoulders and, cautiously, you ease yourself up from the desk.

"Well done, old girl," Amanda whispers in your ear.

Miss Foster ignores you and slaps the cane down on her desk before retaking her seat. Your heads come closer together than you feel comfortable with, since you are still half leaning over, not yet ready to explore the damage to your bottom.

"Thank you, Harriet, you may go." Miss Foster clearly wants you to leave. She even pulls some papers from one of the desk drawers and starts to read them.

For you, your bottom is sore and aching and your mind is still in some turmoil, such that you can't quite get to grips with what to do next.

"I'll show you outside." Amanda grabs your arm and tugs. You want to say something, but somehow the words don't come. Amanda's pulling you and you let her have her way.

"Here, take these with you, please Amanda," Miss Foster calls, and Amanda releases her grip on your arm. Through bleary eyes you see Amanda being handed the cane and the punishment book. She follows you as you head for the door.

Both Mrs Andrews and Laura Parson turn and stare as you enter their office.

"We've done with these for today, thank you." Amanda hands the cane and punishment book back to Laura.

By the time you reach the chair where you left your skirt and tights, you are at least able to stand upright and gently massage your bottom through your brief blue knickers. Any embarrassment you felt before is forgotten. You just want to get dressed and off home.

Laura Parsons, having returned the cane and punishment book to the stationery cupboard, sits back at her desk. She pretends to be getting on with her work, but you feel her watching you as you step into your skirt. Amanda hands you your tights, but you don’t put them on. They get roughly folded and put in your bag. You insert your feet into your shoes and then you’re ready to leave.

You turn and smile faintly at both the secretaries, then at Amanda. They all look at you sympathetically, like they understand your pain and embarrassment.

Mrs Andrews sees the tears in your eyes and opens a drawer in her desk. She pulls out several tissue handkerchiefs and comes across to you.

“Here, wipe your eyes. You might want to pop into the girls toilets to redo your make-up.”

“Thank you,” you manage, and leave through the door Amanda is holding open for you.

She follows you out, takes your arm and leads you along to the toilets.

“Bad?”

“It really stung when, you know, when the cane hit my bottom,” you reply.

“I can imagine.”

The End.

© Kenny Walters 2025