Being caught fighting in the school yard could only lead to one conclusion as myself, my cousin and a more senior girl were soon to find out. I wasn’t in the fight, just trying to help my cousin who was taking a pounding from the bigger girl, but the head didn’t see it that way. I was involved and that was good enough to warrant the cane in her eyes. After a long lecture we were lined up outside her office with our hands on heads, with me last and my cousin second last. Neither of us had been caned before, not at school anyway.
The canings were to be one by one and it didn’t take long for a crowd to congregate near to her office as we stood there waiting. It was horrendous listening to the proceedings, knowing that I would very soon be the focus of attention and my stomach was tying itself in knots. I already knew the majority of punishments from her were taken touching toes, skirt up and knickers tightly stretched, as opposed to the holding out your hands as happened at many establishments.
Outside the headmistress’s office, it was hard not to hear what was going on inside. I clearly heard the order for the senior girl to touch her toes and, after a short pause, the whistle and crack of the cane. This was followed by the second crack landing. These were received in silence. I was beginning to get the idea this wasn’t too much different to the slipper. After the fourth crack landed to the sound of a light yell, there was a pause and then the girl emerged, tear streaks down her face, and she walked off quickly, though rubbing her sore bottom.
When my cousin entered, I felt this wasn’t too bad; probably similar to one of mum’s canings. Listening carefully, I heard her being ordered to bend over and I waited for the first whistle and crack as before. What happened next sent a shudder of fear running through my body. The scream was a howler. The second stroke landed and she cried out louder and longer. I was now in a state of total panic.
The room quietened before the third; then more cries and screams. By now I was quite literally ready to run, but my legs were glued to the spot. A short lull and then the fourth crack landed and the screaming and ranting went on and on. My cousin eventually emerged. Her red, tearful eyes showed the state of emotion she was in as she staggered down the corridor, clutching her skirt and rubbing what must have been a horribly throbbing bottom.
Now it was my turn. I was told to touch my toes and try to stay in position, then my skirt was the ceremonially positioned out of the way. I was now in position presenting my bottom for a painful thrashing. The headmistress apologised for having to cane me. A loud swish concluded with my piercing scream as that cane cracked viciously into my knicker clad cheeks. There was a slight delay before the effects reacted within me and the pain seemed to follow after a short spell. Now tears streamed down my face. I was up, trying to dispel the pain from my mind as best I could. I knew now why Sarah had emerged in her state of anguish.
The Headmistress ordered me back into position (not easy when you know what’s coming next). It was another cracking blow to my already smarting bottom and, like Sarah, I screamed louder whilst unable to resist rubbing my knickers any longer.
As number three approached, the Head must have been tiring of the crying and posturing of naughty girls she was trying to punish and she physically had to reposition me, as I was incapable of doing it this time. Another almighty swish and I was off again. This was beyond anything I could take and I was now totally uncontrollable.
It was only with the threat of my knickers coming down that finally found me ready for the last stroke which flew into my tightly stretched rear. Tears flooded down my face, my hands rubbing my searing cheeks. I was given some time to compose myself before she opened the door and ushered me out. There I was outside her office, a bawling fourteen year old, hands rubbing her rear end and unable to walk down the corridor with the pain. Fortunately the audience had gone back to their classes. Then an arm grasped mine. My cousin had recovered enough to assist me to the girls toilets, away from prying eyes.
As the pain subsided a little, we made the decision to retire to a cubicle and remove our knickers. I had the urge to see the damage. Four horrifying burgundy lines stretched across my pale unblemished bottom. Sarah had fared no better and it was going to be hard for us to go to class and stay seated. Yes, the class did know where I was and, yes, they all wanted to see what a cane could do. Providing it was private, whipping up your skirt and dropping your knickers for a viewing session was quite common, and very pleasurable in the right hands.