Emily Taylor was a keen and proficient swimmer. She loved being in the pool. Her parents had paid for her and her older sister to have swimming lessons at the local swimming baths when she was just six-years-old.

When she joined her senior school, Stoke Park, at age 11, a gym teacher gave some of his time to run a swimming class after school. It was not very advanced but it was something better than nothing and Emily found that she was imparting some of her knowledge to fellow pupils and acting as a support to the teacher.

Seven years on, and the school had an advanced, thriving, swimming club that met twice a week after school, ad hoc lunchtime sessions and inter-schools competitions. The sudden surge in interest came about when the school appointed a young, national gymnast champion who had retired from competition to become a teacher. John Blake had gone to teacher training college and became qualified to teach PE, games and maths.

Stoke Park was John’s first appointment and he quickly settled in to school life taking PE, games and maths and was very popular with the students. He took over the running of the swimming club and Emily was immediately a beneficiary. John recognised she had a talent and spent some time one-to-one teaching her to become more accomplished at the various swimming strokes and also diving which she had never done seriously before.

She loved working with him. It’s fair to say she had a girly crush on him. She particularly enjoyed the physical contact when he was demonstrating techniques to improve her style. Whenever he touched her arms or legs to get her into a better position, she was thrilled. He rarely entered the pool, mostly coaching from the side wearing his tracksuit, but occasionally he excited the girls when they saw him in his speedo swimsuit. But Emily was the most excited. What a body! Everyone in the club adored his infectious enthusiasm and he was full of fun and laughter. She liked to think she was his favourite. He encouraged her to call him by his first name within the confines of the swimming club.

Stoke Park was invited to enter an inter-schools swimming gala which was to be held on a Saturday morning at a school on the other side of the city. Emily was selected by John to represent the school in her favourite discipline, which was the front crawl, and she was honoured to be made captain of the team. John made a point of making sure the headmistress, Mrs Wilkinson, was aware of the competition and it was announced at school assembly. Emily was particularly proud when the headmaster, who rarely made contact with the girls, spoke to her to wish the team good luck at the gala and congratulated her on being appointed captain.

On the morning of the event, Emily had arranged for her mother to drive her to the venue and stay and watch. To her horror, her mother couldn’t get the car to start. Emily got into a bit of a panic and decided her only hope was to get the bus into town and then catch another bus to the venue. She gathered her sports holdall and ran down the road to the bus stop, only to see the bus disappearing in the distance. The next bus would be an hour away - too late to get her there on time. Her last chance was to get back home and borrow her sister’s bike.

This she did. She eventually got to the event after taking a wrong turning and feeling shattered. But, disaster; she was too late. John Blake did not try to hide his disappointment.

“Emily. I can’t believe this. All the training and effort we have put into this.”

He was obviously upset and wasn’t really interested in her excuses. She stayed around to give support to the team in those races that had not been completed, but trying to play the captain’s role when she had failed to turn up for her own event did not go down well.

John could see that Emily was trying to give help and support to the team, and at the close of the competition they had performed well as a team and he seemed happier. He gave her the opportunity to fully explain what had happened and could see she was genuinely upset.

She felt really bad when Jamie, one of the young swimmers, came up to her and said, “We would have won the gala if you had bothered to turn up.”

It was a long and miserable cycle ride home. She felt really bad about letting John and the team down.

Monday morning, she was heading for assembly after registration with her close friend, Joanne. John Blake came up behind her and touched her arm to attract her attention. Joanne moved ahead and waited for her friend.

“Emily. I was in the office with Mrs Wilkinson early this morning. She wanted a rundown on Saturday’s gala. She asked about you and I had to tell her that you were late and missed your event. She was furious. I think you’re going to get a real telling-off. It could even be the cane. I’m really sorry if I’ve inadvertently dropped you in it. Look, I’ll see you at the swimming club tonight. Best of luck.”

Emily caught up with Joanne, who said, “What did your boyfriend want?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. Idiot!”

“He’s certainly got the hots for you.”

“You’re crazy,” was Emily’s response, while secretly wishing it could be true.

She explained the nature of John’s conversation. Joanne was concerned for her friend. She knew she was in trouble. It was rare for a sixth former to be caned, but as Emily made her way to assembly she could imagine what was coming next. Her name would be called out by the headmaster at the end of assembly to go to the headmistress’s office and everyone knew what that meant. The whole school, including her sixth form colleagues, would know that she was going to probably get a dose of the cane. There would be lots of inquisitive glances and much smirking, and that’s exactly how it was.

The headmaster called out the names of four boys to see him after assembly, and then called out two girls to see the headmistress.

“Clarissa Faulkner, Emily Taylor, make your way to see the headmistress. The headmistress wishes to see you now.”

Emily’s heartbeat went into overdrive. She was a well-behaved girl and had never been in serious trouble. Certainly no previous visits to the headmistress. As she left the assembly she picked her way past her sixth form colleagues, with some supportive comments, some teasing. One boy inappropriately made it difficult for her to pass and she had to squeeze by him.

Emily knew Clarissa. She lived on the other side of the road to her and their mothers were quite friendly. Emily wondered what she had done to incur a caning, but as she made her way to see the headmistress, amid the teasing comments of her peers, she was more concerned about her own welfare.

When she arrived at the headmistress’s office, the four boys were queuing outside the headmaster’s office awaiting their fate, and Clarissa was waiting in a queue of one by the headmistress’s door. Clarissa was a quiet, chubby, pretty, girl. Emily wouldn’t have put her down as a naughty girl but here she was.

“Hello Clarissa.”

Clarissa obviously knew Emily as a neighbour from across the road, but she wasn’t keen on conversing. She turned to look at Emily through tearful eyes.

“I’ve got two detentions in a week but one of them wasn’t my fault.”

Emily smiled. “You’ll be OK. Hang in there.” She felt sorry for Clarissa and thought to herself that she would have had a stressful weekend waiting for the Monday morning punishment, and now the time had come.

The four boys on the other side of the corridor were unceremoniously marched into the headmaster’s office by the secretary and the raised voice of the headmaster began to bellow. Soon after, the sound of the crack of the cane followed by a yelp could be heard. Poor Clarissa was visibly trembling, but by the time the third stroke was landing on its target Mrs Wilkinson arrived. She positively glared at Emily and said nothing to her, but appeared more empathetic towards Clarissa.

“Good morning, Clarissa. This way please.”

She held the door open for Clarissa. Emily ungraciously thought the headmistress would have plenty to aim at with Clarissa’s bottom. She stepped into Clarissa’s place and, because of the ill-fitting door, could hear what was being said.

“Well Clarissa, no detentions for two years and then two in a week.”

Clarissa spoke very softly and Emily couldn’t hear her response because of the noise from the headmaster’s office next door, but then she heard Mrs Wilkinson talking in quite gentle tones.

“This is your first caning and I’m going to take your previous good behaviour into consideration, so we’ll make it four rather than six. I hope it will hurt enough to serve as a warning to you not to come back to see me again, because the consequences will be rather different.”

A few seconds passed for Clarissa to presumably get herself into position. Emily listened carefully for the sounds of Clarissa being whacked. But it seemed to be a gentle affair. It was more of a ‘phut’ than a ‘crack’ as the cane struck her bottom followed by her giving a squeal. Certainly not a shriek. Three more of these and then quiet. The door opened and Emily had to step back sharply. Clarissa came out, tears in her eyes, rubbing her bottom and looking flustered. She passed Emily without acknowledging her. Her ordeal was over and Emily’s was about to begin.

Emily entered, wondering what punishment she was going to receive. John had warned her the cane was likely but how many strokes?

Emily had previously received two whacks of the slipper across her trousered bottom in front of the class from Mrs Wilkinson. This was three years ago in a history lesson. She liked Mrs Wilkinson, who was Miss Wright back then before she married. Very softly spoken and a caring person in her late thirties. But Emily was probably going to be seeing another side of her. She was grateful that she had got two free periods before lunchtime that would give her some time to recover before her next lesson.

Upon entering the headmistress’s office, Emily soon found herself on the receiving end of a verbal attack.

“I am appalled by your behaviour. You have let down the good name of this school,” which Emily thought was a bit over the top but she wasn’t going to argue. “You have let down Mr Blake who has invested huge amounts of his own time to help you.” She couldn’t argue with that. “He made you captain of the team and you threw that honour back in his face.”

The headmistress continued aggressively. “I’m going to cane you. It is disappointing to have to cane sixth formers and I usually try to find another way if punishment is required but your behaviour warrants it.”

Mrs Wilkinson stopped talking and Emily thought she might have a chance to defend herself. She started to explain but Mrs Wilkinson snapped, “Did I say you could speak?”

Furious did not adequately describe Mrs Wilkinson’s demeanour.

“Get back here at 4.00 pm and be prepared for the cane. Now please go.”

Emily took her leave thinking she had now got several hours of waiting before her fate. As she left the headmistress’s office she could hear the caning and yelping continuing from next door. She shuddered.

Free time until lunch and then two periods of history until 3.30. She should have been going to the swimming club at 4.00 but she thought that with a potentially sore bottom accompanied with tell-tale cane marks, she would give that a miss. She spoke with her friends to let them know what was happening. They were supportive but if truth be known they enjoyed some poor soul getting a thrashing as long as it wasn’t them.

The day dragged. Free periods until lunch, which should have been used for revision, but she couldn’t concentrate. Lunchtime passed and she skipped her meal, not feeling at all hungry. She brooded during the history lesson and the teacher, Mrs Brannigan, could see her thoughts were elsewhere. Word was out around the school concerning her transgression and Mrs Brannigan kindly left her alone.

Emily nervously made her way to Mrs Wilkinsons’s office to arrive a couple of minutes early. With some trepidation she knocked on her door.

“Come.”

She entered and was immediately surprised to see John Blake standing next to Mrs Wilkinson.

“I’ve asked Mr Blake to attend to witness your punishment, and I hope watching you being caned will give him some satisfaction. You will now make an apology to Mr Blake.”

John interjected. “She has already, headmistress.”

“I want to hear the apology and I want it to be sincere and grovelling. Now, please.”

Emily, crestfallen, looked at John and detected he was not wanting her to have to apologise.

“I am really, really sorry, sir,” just stopping herself from addressing him as John. “After all you have done for me, I am very angry with myself for letting you down and I will do whatever I can to regain your trust.” The words were just tumbling out.

“OK,” said John quietly.

Then followed the worst, most humiliating, disappointing and painful five minutes of her life.

“Right, Emily, I strongly feel the need to impress upon you the importance of taking responsibility for your actions. Please remove your trousers and you will receive six strokes with the senior cane across the seat of your knickers. Prepare please.”

Emily was stunned. Surely not trousers down and in front of John Blake. He had seen her many times in her swimming costume, but watching her lower and remove her trousers was really embarrassing. She pleaded to be allowed to maintain her modesty but realised, although Mrs Wilkinson’s attitude was softer than this morning, she was not open to negotiation, and so Emily unbuckled her belt and unzipped her trousers before lowering them. She stood there with her trousers around her ankles.

“I will need to remove my shoes to get my trousers off, Miss.”

“Then do it!” Mrs Wilkinson said impatiently.

Emily kicked off her shoes, stepped out of her trousers and folded them, not too neatly, before placing them on a chair. She stood feeling humiliated and vulnerable. Wearing the skimpiest of knickers, she positioned her hands to try and preserve her modesty and she glanced uncomfortably at John. He was smiling. Sympathetically, she hoped.

“It would have been a good day to wear regulation school knickers, wouldn’t it?” Mrs Wilkinson snapped. “Over you go. You’ll soon forget your embarrassment when this cane gets to work. Keep your hands flat on the table,” came the instruction from the headmistress.

Emily bent over the desk and waited for the first strike which was not long in coming. She heard the cane whistle through the air and crash into her buttocks. Her face contorted with the intense agony, but she was able to avoid crying out. John had taken up a position, arms folded, on the opposite side of the desk, observing apparently dispassionately. A few seconds elapsed before the second strike. This took Emily’s breath away with another injection of very serious pain. The blow caused her to lurch forward. John winced and then smiled sympathetically.

The third strike broke her resolve to keep silent. She let out a cry. John involuntarily turned away.

“Is this difficult for you John?” asked Mrs Wilkinson.

“No, headmistress.”

“Good, because there is more to come.”

The fourth strike was no less ferocious than the previous three. Emily’s bottom was on fire. She once again noticed John was looking concerned.

After the fifth stroke had been delivered, she was struggling to keep her position. She wiggled her bottom to try and unsuccessfully dissipate the pain.

“Stay still, Emily. Nearly over. Would you like to deliver the final stroke John?” asked Mrs Wilkinson.

“Oh! But I’m not authorised and so I’ve never used the cane,” exclaimed a startled John Blake.

“If I’m supervising it will be OK.”

John looked at Emily with a worried expression but he moved round the desk to collect the cane.

“How hard should I strike?”

“You’ve watched me deliver five strokes. You should have a good idea, but have a practice swish.”

Emily was aware of a couple of practice swipes carving through the air. She could not believe her favourite teacher was going to accept the invitation to cane her.

“You can see that I’ve laid down five parallel stripes. There’s a space for you to add the sixth. But if you miss, don’t worry. It means you will overlap one of my strikes which will be a worry for Emily, not for you.”

“Are you ready, Emily?” asked John delicately, but she refused to acknowledge him.

The shot came. It was gentle compared with what she had just received.

“I think you have let her get away with one there, John, but it is very accurate. Well done. Now then, Emily. You may get up.”

Emily was sobbing and clutching her burning posterior. She couldn’t believe such pain existed. The headmistress went around to the other side of her desk, pulled out a box of tissues and placed them next to her. Emily was in awful pain as she retrieved her trousers, carefully easing them over the swollen stripes decorating her bottom. Bending to put on her shoes was very painful.

“Compose yourself and you can be on your way, Emily. I’ve calmed down since this morning and I have decided there will be no further punishment, except Mr Blake’s letter attached to your file stripping you of the captaincy. I’m sorry I had to do this but I felt it was necessary.”

Emily hobbled to the door accompanied by John. He opened the door and she walked through followed by him.

As they slowly walked down the corridor he said, “That was awful, Emily, I’m so sorry. I really feel for you.”

Emily was angry with him, perhaps unjustly. Angry because he had found it amusing when she had to lower her trousers and angry because he agreed to give her one stroke of the cane. She was mostly angry because he was present to witness her humiliation.

“You laughed at me and couldn’t wait to use that cane on my bottom. I have misjudged our relationship.”

“Emily! I was in a very difficult situation. Our relationship is that I am your teacher and you are a pupil. I was being told what to do by the headmistress. I realise you are hurting and upset but you are in this situation because of your wrong-doing. If you’re not going to make it tonight I will see you at swimming club on Thursday evening.”

“I’m never coming to swimming club again. It’s voluntary so you can’t make me,” sobbed Emily.

With that, she turned into the restroom and slammed the door behind her. She heard John call out her name from the other side of the door but she ignored him. She disposed of the tissues that she had brought with her from the headmistress’s office and she cried. Cried because of the pain, and cried because she realised she had probably wrecked what she thought was a unique relationship with a teacher who meant a lot to her.

After a few minutes she left the cloakroom and painfully made her way home, already regretting the way she had spoken to Mr Blake.

The End

© Robert Roberts 2024