“Hiya Alison!”

The young school secretary stopped her search of the filing cabinet and looked round.

“Oh! Hello Carla.” Alison Northgate closed the drawer and went back to her desk, avoiding direct eye contact with the attractive eighteen-year-old prefect. “You’d better go straight in.”

“Alison? What’s this all about?”

“Like I said, you’d better go straight in.”

As Alison Northgate twiddled nervously with her shoulder-length blonde hair, Carla Langdale’s heart fluttered. Suddenly, this unexpected summons to the headmaster was beginning to have sinister undertones. Looking curiously at Alison, Carla quickly brushed a few imaginary specks of dust from her tight grey trousers and maroon blazer before knocking on the large blue door.

“Come!”

Carla entered the inner sanctum and found her friend and fellow prefect, Rebecca Simons, standing silently in front of the headmaster’s large desk. Rebecca wore similar school uniform to Carla. Her stance confirmed instantly that something was wrong.

“Headmaster?” Carla stood level with Rebecca and looked down at the fifty-year-old headmaster, Mr John Wilkins.

As a prefect, Carla was well used to meeting the headmaster. She quite liked him and they had a good working relationship. She smiled.

“I suggest you stand up straight, Carla, next to your accomplice here!” The friendly smile was instantly wiped from Carla’s pretty face. “Do either of you have anything to say to me?”

Carla looked blank. She snatched a sideways glance towards Rebecca and the two girls’ eyes met briefly. When they returned their gaze to the headmaster, both answered together, “No sir!”

“Does Monday night at the Bricklayers Arms ring any bells, ladies?”

Carla rolled her lips together, and stole another exchange of looks with Rebecca.

“No sir.”

“If I throw in the name of a fellow sixth form girl, one Lucy Armfield, does that help at all?”

“It was Lucy’s eighteenth birthday last Monday, sir,” Carla replied. “And she’s in Carlton House hockey team with us. Good player!”

“A good chum, would you say?”

Carla shrugged. “Yes, Lucy’s okay.”

“Okay enough to invite her out for a drink, then?”

“Well, it was sort of a double celebration, sir. We won against St Mildred’s on Sunday and it was Lucy’s eighteenth birthday.”

“Have a few drinks, did you?”

“Yes, sir,” Carla admitted, reckoning the headmaster would not be holding this inquest were he not in possession of a fair idea of that evening’s events.

“And did Lucy have a good evening?”

“Yes sir, I think so.”

“So nothing untoward befell her, then?”

“Not that I’m aware of, sir.” Now Carla was confused again. She’d seen Lucy yesterday, Tuesday, and the sixth form girl had seemed friendly enough, albeit a little quiet, but then she always was a bit on the shy side.

“Rebecca!” The headmaster turned with some gusto to the red-haired girl standing next to Carla. “How did you find Lucy on Monday evening?”

“Fine, sir.” Rebecca bit her lip thoughtfully. “Yes, nothing wrong.”

“You didn’t find yourself needing to restrain her, then?”

“Re-restrain her? N-no, sir.” Rebecca looked nervous.

“You didn’t, for example, find the need to pull her off her chair onto the floor and hold her down, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sorry?” Mr Wilkins cupped a hand around his ear, as though he might have misheard.

“Yes, sir. I did pull her onto the floor.” Rebecca held her hands in front of her, as she looked down at the thick pile carpet.

“And hold her down?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any particular reason for this behaviour, Rebecca?”

Rebecca sighed and looked away.

“Rebecca seems to find the question too taxing for her, Carla.” The headmaster turned to the dark haired girl. “Perhaps you can help us?”

Carla, in contrast, clasped her hands together behind her, the backs of her hands resting on her firm round bottom. “It, um, could have been…”

“Yes, Carla?” Mr Wilkins rested his chin on cupped hands. “Pray do tell.”

“I believe it might have been so I could unfasten Lucy’s trousers, sir.” Carla found it incredibly embarrassing having to detail her actions to this gruff grey-haired male.

“A little more than that, I think Carla.”

“I might have pulled them down, sir.”

“Might have, Carla?”

“Yes, I pulled her trousers down, sir.”

“Leaving them around her ankles?”

“No, sir. I pulled them off, sir.” Carla sighed. This really was incredibly tedious.

“And this all happened In full view of the public bar? Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would either of you like to know how I came to find out about this, ladies?”

Both Rebecca and Carla shrugged, not certain how best to answer.

“Lucy Armfield complained, sir?” Suggested Carla.

“No. It was Mr and Mrs Armfield who found it a little odd that their daughter should be coming home from a public house, having been treated to intoxicating beverages by two prefects, in just her blouse and knickers!”

The two prefects looked at each other. Both were now extremely anxious.

“Incidentally, does either of you have any idea what happened to Lucy’s trousers? After they were dragged from her by you two, I mean!” The headmaster’s tone suggested he was not amused.

“No, sir.” Carla answered sheepishly.

Rebecca shook her head as she bit her lip.

“I do hope they have not ended up as some sort of ridiculous trophy on someone’s wall!” John Wilkins’ expression suggested he had prior knowledge of what some of the sixth form girls got up to.

Rebecca looked at Carla, who simply looked guilty. She began wondering whether the headmaster had already been to the prefects’ common room, or whether she would be able to get there first.

“I’m sure matters can only be improved if the missing trousers could be returned to Lucy as soon as possible. Do you understand me, ladies?” John Wilkins spoke firmly, albeit with a gleam in his eye.

“Yes, sir.” Rebecca and Carla answered together.

“Good. Now, as you can imagine, Mr and Mrs Armfield are not happy bunnies. I was subjected to a pretty sound chastisement on the telephone, in fact.”

The headmaster looked up at the two prefects, who looked nervously back.

“Or rather, they have asked for and have been given my assurance that the culprits will be severely dealt with. I have not looked for any other persons responsible as I believe you were the main instigators. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Rebecca and Carla answered together again, both feeling distinctly uneasy.

“Good! So, all I need to do is punish the pair of you most severely, and the matter can then be laid to rest, can it?”

“I suppose so, sir,” Carla almost whispered.

Rebecca grimaced.

“Would either of you care to volunteer a suitable punishment?”

Neither girl answered.

“No?” Mr Wilkins waited for either girl to offer some suggestion before announcing his own feelings. “Obviously, whatever I do with you two will need to placate Lucy Armfield’s parents, especially her mother. Do you think smacked bottoms might do that?”

The two prefects looked back in stunned horror.

“Have you any idea what could have befallen an eighteen-year-old girl walking home along a quiet country road at night? All alone, and in just her blouse and knickers? How could you two prefects have been so stupid?”

“Sorry, sir,” Rebecca mumbled.

“Yes, sir.” Carla took inspiration from her friend. “It was very stupid.”

“Would it help if we let Lucy pull our trousers down, sir?” Rebecca offered.

“I think we need a little more than that, Rebecca,” the headmaster responded. “Frankly, I’m struggling to see beyond the cane as a resolution. Obviously, it would be a short sharp punishment for you two, and hopefully it would placate Lucy’s parents.”

“I can’t say we don’t deserve it, sir,” Carla offered contritely, earning an angry glare from Rebecca.

“Oh, I’m glad you agree!” The headmaster looked up, his angry eyes burning into the two eighteen-year-olds. “Perhaps, then, you will be equally in agreement with my suggested remedy. Eight strokes of the cane for you both! And you can leave your prefects badges on my desk.”

For the second time in as many minutes, the two prefects looked back at their headmaster in total shock. Chastened, the two girls unpinned their prefects badges from their blazer lapels and put them on the headmaster’s desk.

“Now, get out of my sight, both of you!” The headmaster glanced down at some papers on his desk. “When you get home this evening, I want you both to tell your parents exactly what you have been up to, and ask them to confirm their acceptance of your punishment. Tell them I shall be speaking to them on the telephone tomorrow morning. Report back here at ten past two tomorrow afternoon. Go!”

Alison Northgate was back attending to the filing cabinet when the two prefects passed through her office on their way from the headmaster’s study to the corridor outside. For once they failed to stop and chat to the young school secretary, and Alison Northgate was glad to have avoided what could have been an awkward situation.

“How on earth are we going to tell our parents about this?” Carla Langdale fingered her short dark hair nervously.

“I was thinking that might be the easy part.” Rebecca Simons was simply relieved to be away from their headmaster’s presence, for the time being.

“Do I have to tell them, I’m asking myself.” Carla ignored her friend.

“It would be a bit awkward when Mr Wilkins telephones them, if you hadn’t.”

“Perhaps I can cut the phone lines.”

“Be serious!”

“I am!”

The two former prefects collected their belongings from the prefects’ common room to move them to the sixth form lockers, and Carla unpinned Lucy Armfield’s trousers from the notice board, putting them into a bag ready to hand back to her.

“So you’re for taking the caning, are you Carla?”

Carla shrugged. “I didn’t get the idea we have much choice.”

“It’s eight strokes we’re talking about here, Carla!”

“Maybe he’s just trying to frighten us.”

“He’s succeeding!”

“No, seriously Rebecca. Don’t you think he just said that to, well, put the fear of God into us?”

“No caning?”

Carla thought for a few moments. “Not sure I’d go that far. Four, maybe.”

“Four? For what we’ve done? I think not.”

“No, nor do I really.”

“So we go along after lunch tomorrow and get our bottoms smacked, do we Carla?”

“Can you think of a viable alternative? A spot of expulsion, maybe?”

“A new school at this late stage of our scholastic careers? Not really on, I’m thinking.”

“No,” Carla agreed. “Smacked bottoms for us, then.”

“You’re taking this very lightly!”

“No I’m not, Rebecca!” Carla exclaimed. “It’s the whole ordeal I hate. I sometimes think it’s even worse than the pain. You know, changing into our games kit. Parading in front of Alison Northgate in just shorts and games shirt. Let’s face it, she’s only a couple of years older than us.”

“You think he’ll put us through that?” Rebecca queried. “Us being prefects? Sorry, former prefects.”

“I can’t see him making an exception, especially the way he feels about what we did.”

“Why does he do that? Why can’t we just drop our trousers? That would be bad enough!”

“Extra humiliation, Rebecca. All part of the punishment.”

The two girls went their separate ways at that point. Both gave the other a brief huddle and promised they would talk about it all some more tomorrow.

****

“Mother, can I have a word?” Carla dropped her bag in the hallway and went straight through to the kitchen.

“That sounds ominous!” Sarah Langdale dried her hands on a small towel.

“I’m in trouble!”

“More money?”

“Afraid not.”

“Oh, don’t be afraid of not costing me money!””

“Mother! This is serious!”

“Carla!” Sarah Langdale took a hard look into her daughter’s eyes. “What have you been up to?”

Carla told her mother the most of it. At least, she admitted drinking two half pints of beer, quietly omitting the other three pints and being somewhat merry. She even mentioned that Lucy Armfield had managed to lose her trousers and that, as prefects, she and Rebecca had bravely accepted full responsibility.

“Well, that’s very noble of you, Carla.” Her mother tried to avoid sounding surprised. “The consequences are going to be rather painful, though, from what you’re saying.”

“True.” Carla tapped her lip with one finger, pensively. “I was wondering whether you might be able to help there.”

“Me? How?”

“Mr Wilkins intends to phone you tomorrow to ask your permission for me to be caned. I’d like you to agree, but maybe you could suggest that a couple of whacks would be sufficient. Explain how remorseful I am. You know the drill.”

“Hold on! He wants to give you eight and you want me to persuade him down to two?” Sarah Langdale shook her head vigorously. “No, if he’s going to tan your backside then I think you should see the whole ‘noble’ bit through. Otherwise, it would be a bit of a false gesture, wouldn’t it?”

“So?”

“So, there’s no point in bravely taking responsibility if you’re not prepared to take the consequences. Oh no, I really think you must see this thing through.”

“Mum! Eight strokes! My bum will be black and blue.”

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll put an extra cushion on your chair at dinner time!”

“Mum!”

****

The following morning, Carla was up and dressed and packing her bag for school. In addition to the books she would need, she sorted out her navy blue hockey shorts, her white and red sports shirt, white socks and plimsoles.

“Morning Rebecca,” Carla greeted her fellow former prefect, who was waiting for her at the point their journeys to school coincided.

“Morning Carla. I think this is going to be a long hard day for us!”

“Sure is. How did you get on with your parents.”

“Mum hit the roof, dad thought it was hilarious. How about yours?”

“Dad’s away on business. Mum wasn’t particularly sympathetic.”

“Really? How come?”

“Well, I massaged the story just a little. I thought she might make a little plea for mercy on my behalf when old Wilkins phones her, but no such luck.”

When the two girls entered the sixth form common room, somehow everyone knew the outcome of their meeting with Mr Wilkins the previous evening and they were met with numerous looks, grins and comments. As they went about their school day, this was repeated by numerous girls and even one or two members of staff.

Alison Northgate, the young school secretary, interrupted them when they were having lunch together in the refectory. “Just to confirm girls, Mr Wilkins has spoken to your parents and it’s all on for two o’clock.”

“Gee, thanks Alison.” Carla gave a mock smile. “That’s really made our day.”

“Think nothing of it, honey.” Alison returned the smile, then more seriously she added: “If you could be with me as soon as possible after a quarter to two, we can, well, you know the drill.”

“We’re getting the full ceremony, are we?”

“Of course! No expense spared for a couple of arch criminals like you two!”

“I don’t believe this.” Carla said, after the young blonde woman had left.

“What?” Rebecca snapped nervously.

“You’d think we might be spared the humiliation at least.”

“You think? Our dear headmaster considers us bullies of the worst kind, and we humiliated a fellow sixth former, not to mention allowing her to walk home at night in her knickers. What were we thinking of?”

“We weren’t thinking, that’s the trouble.”

“Well, we’re going to pay the price later this afternoon.”

****

The first two hours of the morning seemed to pass very slowly for the two former prefects and then, suddenly, during the lunch break time accelerated at an alarming pace. In next to no time, they were entering the school secretary’s office.

“Good! Quarter to two. Nicely punctual,” Alison Northgate commented as the two eighteen-year-olds stood by the door. “Shall we go?”

Where normally the three would have chatted non-stop as they walked along the corridors, today they made the journey in a strained silence, Rebecca and Carla leading and Alison following.

As they reached the changing rooms, Carla slid the metal grille gate aside. Alison stood and watched as Rebecca and Carla went to where they had earlier left their sports bags on adjacent hooks.

“This is just so humiliating!” Carla commented to Alison.

“Only for you two naughty girls, Carla.” Alison Northgate seemed to be enjoying her duty. “Of course, I have to watch you change. Mustn’t have you putting on extra pairs of knickers and evading your just desserts, must we?”

“Huh!”

Both girls silently removed their blazers, ties and white blouses and hung them up on the pegs. They kicked off their black shoes before removing their grey uniform trousers, which were then folded and placed on the wooden benches.

“Would you like to search us, Alison?” Carla asked sarcastically as both the former prefects stood in white brief knickers and white bras.

“Come off it, Carla,” replied. “You know the rules. No knickers under your sports shorts.”

“Oh come on, Alison!” Rebecca interrupted. “These thin cotton knickers won’t make any difference.”

“And what if Mr Wilkins spots you’re still wearing them? What will he think of me?”

“He might give you the cane too,” Carla joked.

“Really? How can you be so flippant knowing what’s going to be done to us?” Rebecca snapped. “How’s the time, Alison?”

The school secretary looked at her watch. “Five to two. Bang on schedule. Better not waste time getting your games kit on though, much as I’m sure you both like parading around in just your bras and no knickers!”

“That’s odd!” Rebecca said as she searched through her bag. “I can’t find my shorts.”

“Let me have a look.” Alison went to help the dark-haired girl. “Are you sure you packed them?” Alison turned Rebecca’s sports bag practically inside out as she hunted for the missing games shorts.

“I’m absolutely positive!” Rebecca wailed in desperation. “I double checked, triple checked and quadruple checked!”

“Must be somewhere!” Carla said encouragingly, as she pulled on her own red and white sports shirt and delved into her own bag for her shorts. “Hold on!”

“What?” Alison asked.

“I can’t find my shorts either!”

“Methinks someone’s playing tricks!” The school secretary put Rebecca’s bag down and started looking around. “I wonder if they’ve hidden them anywhere nearby.”

“For God’s sake, let’s get looking!” Carla scoured the large changing room, looking under all the benches, on top of shelves, even in the next door shower room, all to no avail.

“It’s three minutes past two!” Alison called to the two frantically searching girls. “We ought to be moving!”

“What are we going to do?” Rebecca screeched.

“You’ll have to put your knickers back on,” Alison answered coldly. “Come on! We need to go.”

“We can’t walk through the school in our games shirts and knickers!”

“You’ll just have to. Get them on, quickly now.”

Carla looked down at herself and then at Rebecca. “These sports shirts are so short, we can’t even pull them down over our knickers!”

“Come along, girls!” Alison tapped her watch frantically. “It’s five past two now!”

“If I ever get my hands on the person who did this,” Carla declared as they began walking along the corridor back to the school secretary’s office.

“And if I ever get to meet the idiot who dreamed up this ritual!” the normally mild-mannered Rebecca added.

“Yes, we didn’t have anything like this in my old school.” Alison commented, as the three were stared at by numerous girls of all year groups who looked up from their lessons and grinned at the sight of two sixth-form girls walking past in just white knickers and games shirts.

“And they all know where we’re headed and what for,” Carla added.

“Here we go.” Alison opened her office door and stood aside to allow the two prefects to enter. Finally, they were able to remove themselves from the sight of the other girls. Alison checked her watch. “It’s time! Hope you’re ready.”

Before either girl could answer, Alison had picked up a small book and a pen from her desk, and tapped on the door to the headmaster’s study.

“Come!”

Alison opened the door and went in first, holding it open to allow the other two to enter. Mr Wilkins waved a hand, indicating the two prefects should stand in front of his desk.

“What on earth!” The headmaster looked at the two former prefects and realised they were wearing knickers rather than games shorts. “Why aren’t you wearing your games shorts?”

“I took Carla and Rebecca to get changed, headmaster, but when they looked in their bags they both found their games shorts were missing,” Alison explained. “I thought it best that they simply put their knickers back on rather than delay their punishments. Or would you prefer to put things off until we find their shorts?”

John Wilkins thought for a moment. “No, you did well, Alison. Best not delay what we need to do.”

The young school secretary opened the small book and indicated to Mr Wilkins the entries she’d already made. “Here to be caned. Eight strokes for each girl, headmaster.”

“Thank you, Alison.” Mr Wilkins took a pen and signed near to the end of the two lines where Alison had made the entries.

“Thank you, headmaster.” Alison took the book and turned it towards the two girls. “Alison, Rebecca, you are required to sign the book too. Probably better to do it now, rather than after.” The young secretary spoke to the two girls quietly, a nervous edge to her voice.

Carla scowled, but stepped forward and added her signature to the spot indicated by Alison’s finger. Rebecca, looking terrified, then added hers.

“Now girls.” Mr Wilkins allowed Alison to step back, book and pen in hand, before addressing the two girls. “Do you, er, have anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

“I’m very sorry, sir.” Rebecca murmured.

“Yes sir, I’m very sorry.” Carla looked penitently down at the carpet.

Mr Wilkins coughed. “Yes, well, let us begin. Alison? If you please.”

Alison Northgate placed the book and pen down on a side table and went over to one side of the room where four finely upholstered armchairs were grouped around a coffee table. Taking the nearest one, she attempted to pull it back towards an open area of carpet. “Could you?” She looked back at the two girls, as she struggled with the heavy chair. “Could you give me a hand, please?”

Carla and Rebecca both went over and lifted the heavy chair, placing it down with the back facing towards the headmaster’s desk in the position indicated by Alison. When they all three looked across at Mr Wilkins, they found he had risen from his desk and had pulled a long slender cane from a corner cupboard. Slowly, and rather menacingly, he was approaching them.

“Who would care to be first?” The headmaster flexed the cane between both hands as he looked at each girl in turn, his tight-lipped expression suggesting he was determined to make both girls pay for their foolish actions.

“Up to you, Rebecca.” Carla generously allowed her friend to choose.

Rebecca looked despairingly back, totally incapable of speaking.

“Might be better to get it over with, Rebecca,” Alison suggested.

Rebecca nodded, her whole body visibly trembling.

“Better go and stand by the desk, Carla.” Alison gave Carla the gentlest of pushes. “I’ll join you in a moment.” Then, patting the top of the chair’s upholstered back, she addressed Rebecca. “Come on!”

Rebecca lumbered forward, her legs weak and tottering.

“Stand here.” Alison took Rebecca’s arm and placed her directly behind the chair. “Stand up straight.” When the girl was suitably erect, the school secretary half turned to the headmaster and waited.

After some long moments, the command was issued. “Bend over!”

Rebecca didn’t move.

“Come on! Bend over!” Alison placed a hand behind the dark-haired girl’s neck and pushed her forward. “Head right down! Rest your forearms on the seat of the chair.”

With some pushing and prodding from Alison, Rebecca was soon in position across the well-padded back of the chair with her forearms horizontal and resting on the seat of the chair, her head nearly brushing the seat between her arms, and her white knicker clad bottom perched well up and presenting a totally vulnerable target.

“Okay, that’s fine Rebecca,” Alison whispered in the girl’s ear. “Now hold very still and don’t move. Otherwise Mr Wilkins might miss your bottom, which might be particularly painful and also means he has to give you another stroke, and you certainly don’t want that, do you?”

Rebecca shook her head, a stifled sob being the only sound she made. Alison smiled weakly in the direction of the headmaster, then went over to Carla.

“I hope she’s got the good sense to keep still and get it over with,” Alison commented in a low voice. “It’s the best way, believe me.”

Carla didn’t reply, just stored the thought in her mind for when she had to take Rebecca’s place.

They watched as Mr Wilkins stepped up to the chair and whispered something to Rebecca. Then he moved to her side and held the cane horizontally across the seat of her white knickers. Long seconds passed before the cane was drawn sharply back and sent sweeping down to land across the tense bottom with a resounding crack.

“Aaaaah!!” Rebecca wailed loudly, almost in a scream.

“Sssssheessssh!” Carla exclaimed.

Within moments, the cane was aligned across the firm round bottom in preparation for the next assault. After some moments, Mr Wilkins drew the slim yellow rattan back and hurled it down to strike the waiting bottom with another loud crack.

“Uuuuuuuuhh!”

“She’s got the idea,” Alison whispered in Carla’s ear. “She’s keeping still so Mr Wilkins can whack her bottom properly.”

More anxious seconds passed before the cane was readied once more. With a loud whoosh, it hurtled down to strike Rebecca’s white knicker clad bottom for the third time.

“Aaaaargh! That hurts!!”

“I’ve never seen him do an eight stroker before,” Alison said. “You don’t suppose he’ll let her have a rest after four, do you?” When Carla merely shrugged, Alison continued, “Maybe you’ll have to swap over, and you’ll get your first four while Rebecca has a break.”

Carla turned to Alison and glared. “I bloody hope not!” Then Carla’s heart began to thump as she realised this could just be a possibility.

Aaaaahhh!!!”

As Rebecca cried out after the fourth stroke, Carla’s anxiety soared as she waited to see whether there would be any let up in Rebecca’s punishment. The seconds passed so very slowly, but then came the reassuring sight, to Carla at least, of the headmaster lining up the fifth stroke.

“Probably best,” Alison said. “To get it over with in one dose, I mean.”

“Uuuuuuhhh!!” Rebecca cried out as the cane whipped across her bottom.

“Do you get to see many canings?” Carla asked the young secretary.

“Not too many.” They both continued staring at Rebecca’s firm bottom. “About five a term, on average.”

“And they’re all like this?”

“More or less. Of course, they usually get it across the seat of their games shorts or games knickers. Bit unusual for girls to get it across their skimpy panties.

“You’re lucky day!”

“Yes.” Alison ignored the sarcasm. “Must recommend the idea to Mr Wilkins.”

“Aaaaaarrrrgh!!” They watched as another stinging stroke swept into the firm mounds of Rebecca’s bottom.

They could see Rebecca fidgeting as she tried to squirm some of the pain from her aching backside. The net result, though, was Rebecca’s knickers rode up, especially on the right side, and where her bottom had been more or less fully covered by the white cotton material. Now portions were left completely bare. Carla focused on the vivid red stripes that marked the delicate pale mounds.

“Hold still, girl.” Mr Wilkins bellowed.

“Would you like me to hold you, Rebecca?” Alison called across the room.

“No,” a weak voice answered from the other side of the chair. “No, I’ll be alright.”

“You’re almost done,” Alison told her by way of encouragement.

Mr Wilkins lined up another stroke and held the cane hovering over Rebecca’s bottom for long tantalising seconds. He waited and waited, then suddenly drew the cane back and lashed it down to whip into the waiting white knicker clad bottom.

“Aaaaaaaaahhhh!”

“Just one more, then you’re on,” Alison gently elbowed Carla in the ribs.

“Oh, good,” Carla responded with sarcasm before taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly and noisily. She looked away as Mr Wilkins held the cane in position, preparing for Rebecca’s final stroke. As soon as she heard the whoosh of the descending cane, though, Carla’s eyes were drawn to the slender implement whipping into Rebecca’s bottom.

“Oooooooooohhhh!!!”

Alison Northgate waited for the headmaster to step away from the bending girl, then she went over and helped Rebecca to stand up straight again.

“Come along. All done,” Alison cooed as she led Rebecca back towards Carla.

“That really hurt!” Rebecca sobbed.

Carla took long deep breaths as she watched, her heart beating ever faster as she waited for the moment when Alison would divert her attention away from Rebecca and on to herself.

“Come along!” The school secretary suddenly took Carla by the arm.

Carla stumbled forward, surrendering herself to Alison’s gentle pull. Within moments, they were there by the back of the chair.

“Stand up straight.”

Carla did as she was told, and waited for the headmaster’s voice as she remembered the procedure that Rebecca had faced.

“Bend over!” The gruff, blunt command contrasted with Alison’s gentle but firm tones.

Pausing only to take a deep breath, Carla was soon diving over the back of the chair. She felt Alison’s hands on her hips pushing her a little further over the chair as the school secretary told her to rest her forearms on the seat of the chair and push her head down.

“Perfect!” Alison said, as she turned away and went to stand with Rebecca. Carla suddenly felt very alone. Her heart pounded when Mr Wilkins approached her.

“Keep nice and still at all times. If you move when I’m about to apply a stroke, it won’t count and you’ll have to take it again. Okay?”

“Sir.”

“Keep your bottom up and let me apply good firm strokes. Then we’ll get through this quickly. Okay?”

“Good girl!”

Carla shivered as the headmaster removed his face from her ear. She felt the long slender cane touch her lightly across the seat of her white knickers, and she gripped the edge of the chair. The whoosh of air was deafening and long, then the crack exploded in her ears, and across the rounded curves of her bottom.

“Aaaah!” Carla gasped as the scolding rod lashed her across her entire backside.

Even though it wasn’t now touching her, Carla sensed the cane being held close to her bottom as Mr Wilkins was already lining up the next stroke. The cane whooshed and crashed into her bottom for a second time.

“Ssshheessh!” The eighteen-year-old closed her eyes as she sensed the searing pain whip across her whole bottom. Her knickers felt extra tight and she recalled how tight and revealing they’d seemed back in the changing room.

Carla froze. She sensed Mr Wilkins lining the cane up for the next stroke. The air whooshed and the cane whipped into its target that was her poor soft bottom.

“Yeeeeeoooow!” Carla’s eyes screwed themselves shut as the burning pain shot across her whole backside for the third time. She sensed Rebecca and Alison standing by the desk watching her scantily covered bottom being lashed by the slender rod.

And then the tip of the cane lightly touched her on the far right side of her bottom. She flinched and listened for the dreadful sound. It came, and the firm rattan cane struck home.

“Uuuuuunnnnhh!” Carla’s bottom was entirely sore now, and she simply no longer cared about what sight her bottom might be presenting to those standing behind her. She gripped the edge of the chair and resolved to get herself through this ordeal.

“Aaaaaahh!!” The next stroke lashed her tender bottom and Carla felt her eyes moistening. She bent her left knee, and the tight material of her brief white knickers cut into the soreness.

“Keep still!” Mr Wilkins cautioned.

“Sir.” The knee straightened, and Carla braced herself.

With a sudden whoosh, yet another stroke lashed into her soft round curves.

Carla called out, “Ssssshheeeesh!” and bent her left knee again, but immediately straightened it before Mr Wilkins had a chance to caution her again.

By now, Carla’s entire bottom was sore and smarting and she had to think carefully before she realised there were still two strokes to go. For one moment, she had thought there might be just one.

“Oooooooooohhh!” Now there was really only one more to take and then the major part of the ordeal really would be over. Carla genuinely regretted how foolish she’d been with Lucy’s welfare on Monday evening. She’d not make that mistake again!

A delay caused Carla to wonder whether she had in fact miscounted and she had completed her punishment, but finally the cane whooshed through the air ferociously.

“Aaaaaaarrrgh!” The eighteen-year-old thanked the Heavens that final searing lash was the last she’d have to take. Another tear trickled down the side of her face, but that was nothing. All she listened for now was some indication she could get up and no longer have to present herself in such an undignified position.

“All done, Carla,” Mr Wilkins whispered in her ear, and then Alison Northgate was by her side tugging on her arm.

“Up you get! You’re done.”

Carla’s eyes met with the school secretary’s as she turned away from the chair and walked back to rejoin Rebecca. The former prefect didn’t speak, just gently massaged her bottom through the soft cotton of her brief white knickers.

“Thank you everyone.” Mr Wilkins laid the long slender cane on his desk and sat down. “You may go.”

“Do you want to go straight down to the changing room, girls?” Alison asked as she closed the door to the headmaster’s study behind them.

“Can you give us a minute please, Alison?” Carla said weakly as she continued to soothe her sore backside.

“Sure.” As Carla helped support herself with one hand on the secretary’s desk while she continued to rub her bottom, Rebecca sat down very slowly on a small upright chair. She immediately jumped back up again.

“Ouuch!!”

Alison chuckled. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes please.” Rebecca looked across as Alison went into the small adjoining kitchen and utility room.

“Carla?” Alison called from the little room. “Coffee for you too?”

“Yes please.”

“Let’s have a look then.” The young school secretary handed the two eighteen-year-olds mugs of steaming coffee and took a few sips of her own.

Carla immediately turned her back towards Alison and thumbed her knickers down off her hips. “I’m scarred for life!” she exclaimed as she peered round to inspect the damage.

“I don’t think so, Carla!” Alison smiled gently. “Those stripes ought to disappear in a couple of days or so, I reckon. Come on Rebecca! Show us!”

Rebecca reluctantly turned her back and peeled her underwear down but not so far as to fully expose her entire bottom.

“Grief, Rebecca!” Carla exclaimed. “Does my bum look like that too?”

“Yes.” Alison answered, as they both observed the eight angry red stripes that criss-crossed Rebecca’s backside.

The walk back to the changing room was another humiliation both girls could well have done without. Yet again, most girls looked away from their lessons to watch as they walked along the corridors. Most smiled when they saw the angry red stripes that peeked out from the seams of the girls’ underwear.

****

“Carla? Sarah Langdale called to her daughter as she heard the front door open. “How did it go?”

Carla left her bags in the hallway and went into the kitchen where her mother stood stirring a small saucepan.

“I’ve had more pleasurable experiences actually, mum.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Of course it bloody hurts, mother!”

“Sorry! Silly question.” Sarah Langdale turned the heat off on the cooker and placed the pan to one side. “But it all went smoothly, did it? I mean, as smoothly as one could ask for in the circumstances.”

“No, mother! Actually it didn’t!” Carla poured herself a glass of water from the cold tap. “Someone stole our games shorts and we both had to parade the entire length of the school in our underwear! Presumably Lucy Armfield or one of her friends getting their revenge.

“I can see a sort of poetic justice!” Sarah Langdale said with a gleam in her eye.

“Really!” Carla snapped, irritated by her mother’s apparent mirth. “I suppose you think Lucy was perfectly justified in humiliating us like that!”

“I hear Lucy felt quite embarrassed at having to walk home without her trousers on, actually. And then all her aunts and uncles were there to give her a surprise birthday party, and the poor girl has to greet them in her knickers!”

“You seem to know a lot about it!”

“Surely you know Lucy and her mother are in our Choral Society, don’t you?”

“Mother! Did you speak to Lucy yesterday?”

“We had a little chat. Yes.”

“Did the subject of games skirts get a mention?”

“I believe it did, actually darling! I believe it did!”

The End

© Kenny Walters 2004