My name is Jennifer and I have a twin sister called Emily. We were born in hospital in March 1956 but we were both very small given that we were delivered by emergency section two months prematurely. We were small babies then and we never really seemed to catch up during our adolescent years. Alongside our friends, we always looked about two years younger than them, which we generally found to be incredibly annoying. We got used to having our age questioned, but there were rare occasions when this situation played to our advantage.

We lived with our parents in a little village fifty miles north of London. We initially went to the local village school and then, when we were 13, we got the bus into town to go to the girls’ high school. We loved high school. We made lots of new friends and we were both good at the sports where size was less important; swimming and tennis were our particular loves. We were pretty girls with slender bodies, dark looks, including jet black hair, and faces that radiated happiness. This made us popular amongst our school friends, but we looked too young to attract the type of boys we hankered after. To be fair, this situation changed as we moved into our 20s and we are both now happily married with grown-up children of our own.

Our village was small in those days with a pub, a police station, a small shop and the school that I've already mentioned, along with a modest offering of houses that ranged from humble to some quite grand houses. Our parents were doctors and we lived in a lovely old house in the centre of the village. The bus stop was close to our house and the village shop was just behind our house on the road leading to the neighbouring village. Emily and I would regularly call in at the shop and buy a few sweets that we ate when we got home. This became our routine over the years during those times when we were catching the school bus into town.

Emily and I are almost identical to look at. Even to this day people, including family who have known us for years, get confused. But we are very different in personality. Emily has always been quite shy and reserved. She is not really a risk taker and, despite me being a few minutes younger than her, I have always been the one to take the initiative in any situation when we are together. I've never felt that this has put me at an advantage in any way. We simply have had different roles in our relationship.

However, this is why I have to take responsibility for coming up with the idea, in our last year at school, that we would indulge in a little bit of shoplifting during our visits to the village shop. I'm calling it shoplifting but it was stealing really. Not because we couldn't afford to pay, but simply because I enjoyed the thrill of doing something risky and naughty. In reality it was easy. We would always buy something, but at the same time have an odd sweet secreted in a blazer pocket that we wouldn't pay for. My idea, but Emily herself is happy to accept that she went along with it.

One day in the summer term, shortly before we were due to leave school, I said to Emily on the bus home that, in addition to our normal sweets, I was going to take a little necklace that I had been admiring from the shop that afternoon and hide it in my bra. She looked a bit doubtful, and tried to dissuade me, but I had already made up my mind that this was what I was going to do.

It was an unfortunate choice of day as Mr Bay, who owned the shop, had obviously begun to suspect that we were stealing from him. It was a family run business with Mr and Mrs Bay working in the shop most days, but their grown up son and daughter also helped along with a few casual staff who covered most weekends. Mr and Mrs Bay would have been in their late 50s, while their son and daughter would have been in their mid-20s.

We did our normal thing that day, except that I placed the small necklace inside my bra before going to make our payments. As we turned to go out of the shop Mr Bay confronted us and asked to see inside our jacket pockets. The game was up. He then phoned the village police station and requested that someone should attend as he had caught two girls stealing from him. I'm pretty sure that at that stage he knew nothing of the necklace that was pressed into my soft breast beneath my bra.

It wasn't long before PC Jones arrived on his bike. We confessed. By this stage Emily was crying and I felt dreadful as I couldn't help thinking that I had caused us to end up in this mess. My only crumb of comfort was that nobody had mentioned the necklace and I hoped that I would only be in trouble for a few pennies’ worth of sweets. We had to give back the sweets that we hadn't paid for and then accompany PC Jones back to the police station. We had no idea what our fate was going to be.

When we got there we were taken into the main office which had a desk, various chairs, several cupboards and a little area in the corner that was screened off; a first-aid area, we subsequently learnt. There was lino on the floor, a couple of small windows and fluorescent lighting. Not what you would call warm and cozy! PC Jones asked us to sit on a couple of chairs while he remained standing. He must have been in his mid-30s. Strong physique and quite a handsome chap. But, on that day, not at all friendly.

He gave us a lengthy lecture on why stealing from a shop was a bad idea on lots of different levels. We listened, and nodded in the right places. At one stage I thought that we were going to be let off with a stern telling-off and nothing else. But then he got onto the subject of our punishment.

“You are both very lucky,” he started out with. “If you had been over 18 I would be sending in a report to the main station in Northampton and you would both have been sent to court where you would have been fined and got a criminal record. However, as you are under 18 I can deal with this matter now in a different way. You will both have your bottoms slippered.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! We had our bottoms slippered occasionally at school when we were in the early years, but this was too incredible to believe. But I quickly worked out that this was infinitely preferable to a court appearance that would involve our parents, our school and our reputations. I was praying that Emily had worked this out also. If she piped up that we were over 18 to avoid a slippering, then I would struggle to ever forgive her. In that moment, thank goodness, we looked 15 or 16 and not our true age.

“Go behind the screen in the corner and wait for Mrs Jones to see you,” PC Jones instructed.

We did as requested and it wasn't long before Mrs Jones came around to see us. She was an attractive looking lady, also probably in her mid-30s. She was much more friendly.

“Dear me,” she opened up with. “You two have got yourselves into a bit of a pickle. You do need to listen to my husband. If you carry on stealing you will get into serious trouble when you become adults. Getting your bottoms slippered will hopefully teach you a good lesson.”

We continued to sit and say nothing.

“I'll now tell you what will happen next,” she stated. “'You will both need to undress so that I can confirm in the report that you have no further items from the shop in your possession. You will then get dressed and individually you will be called next door for your punishments. PC Jones will apply a standard white plimsoll to your bottoms and you will be allowed to have one layer of clothing in place. I see that you are both wearing blouses and standard cotton pinafore dresses. You will have to choose whether you want to be slippered on your panties with your dresses raised or whether you want to remove your panties and get it over your dress. It's up to you.”

“'OK, thanks Miss,” I replied on behalf of both of us. “How many will we get?”

“Four each, I suspect, for a first offence,” replied Mrs Jones. “Now both of you get undressed please.”

This was the bit that I was dreading. It was humiliating to have to undress in front of a stranger anyway, but I was also wondering whether that necklace would come into play. I was hoping that we would be able to keep our underwear on.

We undressed and formed a small pile of clothes in front of us. When we were both down to our bras and panties we hesitated before Mrs Jones then confirmed that we needed to be totally naked for the inspection. I managed to take off my bra without the necklace falling out, and add it to the pile on the floor. We stood facing her and both held our hands in front of our private parts to retain some level of modesty. She looked at us up and down.

“OK girls, turn around.”

We turned to face the wall and could sense Mrs Jones looking at our backs and bottoms. I then felt her hand on my bottom, running it over my smooth skin and gently opening up my buttocks presumably to check for anything that might be hidden there. She then moved on to Emily before taking a step back.

Next I could hear her speak in a much lower voice, almost purring.

“Two lovely bottoms. Perfect for slippering.”

These two short sentences have lived with me ever since. The content seemed to have no relevance to the situation that Emily and I were in. What was the need for making a judgement on the attractiveness of our bottoms? Surely any bottom is suitable for punishment if that is what is needed? Was she implying that she was actually enjoying our predicament? Did she have feelings towards us that weren't appropriate? I will never know the answers to these questions and that certainly wasn't the moment to risk rocking the boat by getting into a conversation.

Mrs Jones then asked us to turn around before she started to check our clothing, Emily's first then mine. My heart sank. I knew there was more trouble round the corner and, sure enough, it wasn't long before she discovered the necklace.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I'll have to discuss this with my husband.”

With that, she disappeared off again.

A few minutes later she was back with us.

“Bad news, Jennifer. My husband says that, because of the necklace, he is going to cane you. Six of the best like the boys get. He says that stealing the necklace and not owning up puts this matter onto a different level. I think he toyed with the idea of referring the matter to your school and parents, but feels that he did say to you that he would deal with this today, so that it is not hanging over you.”

This was going from bad to worse! I stood there with Emily, both of us totally naked, and couldn't think of a single thing to say.

“Alright girls, you can get dressed again.”

At that moment another thought must have come into her head.

“Hang on a minute, Jennifer. I've never known my husband cane a girl before and I'm not sure of the arrangements. Boys are caned on their bare bottoms. I'm not sure what he will want to do with you. I'll check.”

And with that she was off again.

“More bad news, Jennifer,” she said on her return. “He says he wants your bottom bared for two reasons. Firstly, he says that it is part of the step up in the level of punishment. Secondly, he says that he needs to see the effect that the cane is having on you for your own good and safety. However, he does say that you can opt to be referred back to your school and parents for them to deal with the matter if you prefer.”

I didn't need much time to think about that one.

“It's OK, Mrs Jones. I'll take the caning.”

“I think that's the right decision, Jennifer. Brave girl!” she said. “Emily, you can get fully dressed now, apart from your blazer, and it will be you to go first. You can tell me just before your punishment which layer you want to be slippered over. Jennifer, you can put all your clothes back on but leave your panties on the floor as we know that you'll not be needing them for your caning.”

We were soon ready for the next stage. We could hear PC Jones moving about next door and Mrs Jones spoke directly to Emily.

“Are you ready, dear?”

“Yes Miss,” I heard Emily reply.

“Come with me then.”

The two of them disappeared beyond the screen and I could only faintly hear the conversation that ensued between her and Mrs Jones. Presumably they were sorting out her clothing. I then heard PC Jones' stronger voice quite clearly. Emily was being told to bend over and grab her ankles, but I couldn't make out whether she had opted to be slippered over her dress with no panties in place or whether she was simply going to raise the back of her dress and take the slippering over her panties. I had decided to do the latter but, of course, that wasn't relevant now to my situation.

I was quite shocked at what happened next. I'm not sure why; what was I expecting? Perhaps it was because it was my dear sister involved.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, in fairly quick succession. I was proud of my Emily. Not a single noise from her despite taking what was obviously a pretty heavy hiding. Her poor little bottom. I could only imagine how much it must have been stinging, although realistically there was worse to come for me.

Emily was soon back beside me behind the screen. She had watery eyes and her breathing was heavy. Her faced looked flushed and she was holding her panties in her right hand. That answered that question. Her dress was so short that they must have been able to see her bottom when she was bent over. But she later told me that she reasoned that her dress material was thicker than the material in her panties and therefore she felt that she had made the better call. Anyway, that was her ordeal over with. Mine was still to come.

Mrs Jones was soon back in the changing area with Emily and me. Her first action was to comfort Emily. She gave her a little hug and then asked to see her bottom. Without hesitation Emily lifted her dress and we were both able to assess the damage. Our bottoms on those days were quite small and skinny. Hers was red with the first signs of bruising already starting to appear. In one spot I could clearly see the outline of the end of the shoe on Emily's bottom. Mrs Jones offered to rub some cream into it but Emily politely, but firmly, declined.

“OK Jennifer,” she said. “Your turn now. You should also leave your blazer on the chair and follow me next door.”

When I arrived back in the main office I was confronted with the sight of PC Jones, resplendent in his full police uniform, standing at the front of his desk holding a long cane in his right hand. At this stage, Mrs Jones was doing all the talking.

“OK Jennifer, I want you to take off your dress, fold it neatly, and place it on the end of the desk.”

I couldn't work out why I wasn't being allowed to simply lift the back of my dress to be caned, but I wasn't in a position to argue and subsequently I thought that this might have had something to do with the procedure for the boys when they would have their trousers and pants lowered to their ankles.

I did as requested. My pinafore dress had buttons on the shoulders which when released allowed the dress to drop to the floor. I picked it up and walked past them both to place it on the desk. My blouse was quite short, with no tails, and the back covered maybe half, if I was lucky, of my naked bottom when I was stood upright. Mrs Jones had seen me totally stripped but I was acutely aware that her husband was getting his first sight of my bottom.

PC Jones then took over proceedings.

“I believe Mrs Jones has already told you what your punishment will be and you have accepted this; six strokes of the cane on your bottom. When I cane someone they have to bend over my desk with their upper body flat on the surface. I therefore want you to turn to face the desk, lift your blouse and then bend over so that your feet are together on the floor, your hands are gripping the far side of the desk and your bottom is stuck out level with the edge of the desk. When you are ready, you can take up this position.”

I hesitated momentarily. I had never been caned before and I felt that I wanted to put off the ordeal for as long as possible. I knew there was no escape though. I walked to the front of the desk and pulled up my blouse so that it was just below my breasts. PC Jones and his wife were standing behind me so that they then had a full view of most of my back, my bottom and my slender legs. I bent over the desk as instructed and got as comfortable as I could.

“Are you ready, Jennifer?” I heard PC Jones ask.

“Yes sir,” I replied. “Please go easy on me if you can,” I added.

“It's not my fault that you are in this position, Jennifer,” he replied. “You'll be caned the same as the boys but I can offer you a break after three strokes if that is what you want. The only other comfort that I can give you is that I'll space the strokes out as best I can. Your bottom is quite small but I should be able to fit in six strokes without any overlapping. We'll just have to see how it goes.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see him moving into position. Next I felt the cane resting, stationary, on my bottom before hearing a couple of swishes as he practised his technique. Then the cane was back onto my bottom, but this time it was tapping against my skin. On many mornings I would look at myself naked in my bedroom mirror. Front first and then I would look over my shoulder at my back view. I would often run my hand over my bottom. Silky smooth skin and soft but with just a hint of firmness. No mark or blemish in sight. This would be the sight confronting them at this precise moment in time. I dreaded to think what my bottom would look like after the caning.

The tapping stopped and time seemed to stand still. I got a split second of warning before the first stroke landed as I heard the air moving around the rapidly descending cane. When it buried itself into the middle, and fleshiest, part of my bottom there was an explosion of pain that I find hard to describe. If you imagine the hardest slippering possible and then add in the sharp pain of the cane cutting into your skin, then you are getting close to knowing what it is like. I couldn't believe the level of pain but somehow I managed to stay in position and stay silent.

Unlike Emily's slippering, he was giving me some recovery time between stokes. Emily's punishment must have been over in less than a minute. He was leaving about 30 seconds between stokes with me, so by the time I'd taken three I must have been in that room for at least five minutes.

“OK, Jennifer, half way through. Do you want a short break before the next three?”

When he had mentioned the possibility of a break before the caning had started, I had decided to decline and get it over with as soon as possible. However there was a rapid change of plan.

“Yes please, thank you sir,” I replied.

I needed time to get myself in the right place to take more punishment. I stood up and rubbed my bottom with both hands. I could feel the little ridges left by the cane. Mrs Jones was soon by my side.

“Well done, Jennifer,” she said as she put an arm around my shoulders. “Brave girl. Let me have a look.”

My blouse was still up and without questioning I turned around to let her see my bottom. She ran her hand over it and for the second time that afternoon she made an odd, or even inappropriate, comment.

“Your bottom is marking up beautifully, Jennifer. So much nicer than the boys. Three lovely distinct cane lines so far. Are you ready to go on?”

“Yes Miss,” I replied and I took up position on the desk surface once more. As I grabbed the far edge of the desk I again got that dreadful feeling of being offered up for punishment with my unprotected bottom totally at the mercy of PC Jones.

But he showed no mercy. Three more very firm strokes of the cane along with a pain level that was off the scale. I thought that I had managed to hold in my emotions but Emily said that she could hear a low grunting noise from me after each of the second batch of strokes. I was crying by the end as well. I simply couldn't help it. Tears were running down my cheeks and I could feel little sobs escaping through my mouth.

“OK Jennifer, it's all over,” PC Jones confirmed. “You can get up now. Take your dress with you and rejoin your sister next door.”

This I did with Mrs Jones following behind. My blouse was back down but I was still conscious that a good bit of my caned bottom continued to be on display. Emily gave me a hug and Mrs Jones did the same. They both seemed genuinely concerned for me. I was offered some soothing cream but, like Emily, I declined. I just wanted to get out of that place as soon as possible.

We got dressed and Mrs Jones confirmed that we could leave.

“However Jennifer,” she said as we shaped to go. “You will need to take this necklace back to the shop, please.”

With this she handed me the necklace. I put it in my pocket and we were soon back outside in the fresh air.

“Well Em, this is going to be embarrassing; having to take this necklace back,” I ventured.

“Not as embarrassing as having our bottoms smacked!” she replied.

I had to agree. But actually it was the combination of having our bottoms smacked and then having to go back to the shop that made the whole situation so excruciatingly embarrassing.

“You don't have to come with me, Em. The necklace was my fault and you aren't involved. Go straight home if you want and I'll deal with Mr Bay.”

“Jenny,” she said in a firm voice. “There is no way I'm letting you face this bit on your own. We are going together!”

I would have to say that I was relieved by this. We were soon back at the shop and as we went in we realised that there were no other customers on the premises at that time. That was a bit of a relief. However, what happened next was totally unexpected. Young John Boys appeared at the counter from the store room. He was rather good looking and we had always felt a bit in awe when he was serving in the shop.

“Can I help you girls?” he opened up with.

I felt that I needed to take the lead as Emily was only there really to give me a bit of moral support.

“Well, it's a bit difficult to explain,” I started to mumble.

“I'll help you,” said John, clearly warming to the task. “You've been pinching stuff from the shop and Dad caught you. You've been down to the Police Station and had your bottoms slippered. You're now back here to apologise. Does that about cover it?”

I could feel my face going horribly red. Then, without warning, Emily entered the discussion in full flow with much more enthusiasm that I could believe, under the circumstances.

“Yes, that's almost right. Actually, we are back here to return a necklace that Jenny took and we didn't both get our bottoms slippered. I got the slipper but Jenny got six strokes of the cane on her bare bottom for taking the necklace.”

A stunned silence followed this outburst. She sounded quite energised by the situation and was showing no regret or embarrassment. At that point in time I wished she hadn't told him about my caning. I placed the necklace on the counter and our eyes met.

“That's a pretty necklace,” he said. “I might be able to do something to help you.”

I was at a loss to know where this was heading but John Boys was soon speaking again.

“Dad also felt sorry for you. He has left a little present for the two of you. Here it is. Unwrap it when you get home.” He produced a little package from under the counter and pushed it towards us.

“Thank you,” said Emily as she put it in her pocket.

He then turned to me.

“You can keep the necklace if you want and I'll put the money in the till. However, in return, you both will have to come into the storeroom and show me your punished bottoms. It would be useful for me to be able to confirm to Dad that you have both received corporal punishment at the police station.”

Even then I could see that this was nothing more than his attempt to gain pleasure for himself out of the situation. Of course he would love to see two young, pretty bottoms just after they had been chastised! But before I could say anything Emily once again jumped in.

“Yes, that's fine with us. I don't mind showing you my bottom and I'm sure Jenny feels the same about hers.”

Well actually I did feel differently, but there wasn't much that I could do about it and I reasoned that I would at least get the necklace for my troubles. We went into the storeroom and turned our backs towards John. We then lowered our panties to our knees and lifted the back of our dresses to let him see our bottoms. He knelt down so that he could get a close view, but it was all over in a couple of minutes. He remarked on Emily's red and bruised skin and complemented me on my six evenly spaced cane marks.

We were soon back home. A little delayed, but not so much that Mum asked any questions. In fact nothing was ever said about the whole affair. To the best of my knowledge the Boys family, PC Jones and Mrs Jones never discussed what had happened to us that day and I'm pretty certain that our parents never found out.

I've always wondered, though, about any sexual pleasure that was derived from our punishments that day. Certainly, I have my suspicions about Mrs Jones and maybe PC Jones also. As for Emily, she confirmed that she found the whole experience to be very erotic and it has shaped her relationships ever since. Good luck to her! It didn't have the same effect on me and the thought of being caned again fills me with horror.

And the present from Mr Boys? A tube of cold cream! How thoughtful and how lovely it felt as we rubbed it into each other’s bottoms at bedtime.

The End

© Julie Baker 2024