You know how it is, no matter how close a group of people seem to be to one another, there’s always one who's really only on the fringes and whose membership of the gang is more tenuous than many of the others. It was like that at my school:
there was a group of us in the upper sixth, a sort of natural elite comprising Rowena, who was Head Girl and a half dozen or so of us Senior Prefects. In our case, the one on the periphery was a girl called Sophie Grant.
Sophie wasn’t actually a member of the prefecture. she was too eager to please everybody and anxious for a quiet life to be able to cope with the responsibility. If a controversy arose, Sophie Elizabeth Grant was always to be found sitting resolutely on the fence. If a junior was in trouble, she unfailingly wanted them to be given a second chance. All very laudable, perhaps, as a rule, but at a top-ranking private school like ours, the qualities prized most were competitiveness, leadership and decisiveness. Still. she was a good sort and we had no objection to her tagging along with us.
To the rest of the school, Sophie was as much of our clique as any of us, but amongst ourselves was the knowledge that she wasn't wholly accepted as a member of the ‘in crowd'. She had a tendency to wander off to follow solitary pursuits; she wasn’t quite as good as the rest of us at games: she put her personal activities ahead of our communal per suits; her work was rated B-plus, when the rest of us got A-minus. However, we'd known her for seven years, she was a fellow Upper Sixth former and she had the right sort of background. She was more 'in' than ‘out’ I suppose you could say.
It is quite probable that the minor differences that distanced Sophie from the rest of us would have been of no consequence had it not been for the events of our final term at Bream Academy.
As befits an institution which prides itself on producing young women of high academic distinction and impeccable social poise, discipline was strict. During term time there was to be no fraternising with members of the opposite sex, no visits to the nearby town in groups of less than three and strict adherence to the wearing of school uniform. Corporal punishment was employed in the lower school often by the Senior Prefects. But though there was no rule stating that seniors were not to be caned, more dignified punishments were usually meted out to older students such as lines, detentions or - in extreme cases- expulsion.
Of course, as one grew older, so one became bolder and more rash it about flouting the rules and so it was that Rowena came to be 'walking out' with Hamish Clarke, her opposite number at the St Patrick's Institute for Boys on the other side of town. They made an attractive couple, sharing a common bond of intellect and affection and they were considering accepting places at the same college to continue their studies the following autumn. If took a lot of effort! on both parties to be able to meet regularly and a secretly and those of us privileged to know the details of their relationship naturally became involved In their clandestine assignations. Thus our already close group was bound together even closer by the sharing of the secret and the excitement. Until Sophie Grant spoiled it, that is.
Rowena roamed around the large study she shared with two other Senior Prefects, adjusting furnishings, thumbing through books and becoming increasingly agitated. The rest of us arranged ourselves as casually as was possible on the chairs and desks around the room, all anxious to talk but unwilling to initiate conversation.
As the door handle turned, Rowena perched on the edge of her desk, suddenly ominously calm.
Sophie entered the room. registering surprise at seeing us arranged around the perimeter watching her arrival.
'A fourth-former said you were look for me’ she said to Rowena in her usual friendly tone, a hint of a lisp making her seem younger and more vulnerable than the rest of us.
'That's right. Come in and close the door. Sorry, there don't seem to be enough chairs left' Sophie could not fail to notice the coldness in Rowena's voice and looked around apprehensively as she guided the heavy door to its frame. With nowhere to sit, she lent casually against the wall, but Rowena didn't want her to be at ease 'Come closer' she told the flustered wretch. 'We have important matters to discuss'
Sophie found herself having to stand in the centre of the study on a faded multi-coloured rug where it was more normal for recalcitrant Juniors to be positioned for a pep talk, a sharp spanking or swift caning on their hands. (Bottom canings though common, were not official and were usually administered after lights out in the gym with a lot of attendant ritual. Although we would never admit it, a bottom caning was often ordered more for the amusement of the Prefects than for the moral reform of a naughty adolescent.
The two girls stared at one another and I was struck, not for the first time, by the extreme contrast to one another. There could be no denying that they were both very attractive young women. but the fact was manifested in completely different ways, Sophie had the looks and build of a typical 'Page 3' girl, a fact she wasn't unaware of and which she consciously used to manipulate situations to her advantage. Rumours abounded about her romantic escapades, but she had never deigned to confirm or deny them. If we hadn't been so enlightened and confident in our own academic and social competence we might have felt jealous of her, but as it was, we tended to almost pity her for her 'dumb blonde' cuteness.
Her honey-toned hair fell loosely over her shoulders, the fringe accentuating her saucer-like blue eyes. She ,had a typically English flawless peaches-and-cream complexion and a permanently pouting mouth that made her seem to be perpetually blowing kisses.
At the other extreme was Rowena very tall, athletically slim, strong featured and extremely serious-minded, in addition to being Head Girl, she was Captain of the netball, lacrosse and swimming teams and active in the full range of sporting activities, Her body was sleek and firm, her limbs obviously powerful, her auburn hair was cropped into a functional wavy cap, giving her a slight resemblance to an eagle with her sharply-defined face. Whatever the situation, she was always perfectly turned out and had no time for slovenliness in others. She had once played Diana, the hunting goddess in an end-of-term play and there had never been any doubt about casting the part.
'We've not seen much of you recently,' our Head Girl said conversationally.'What have you been doing with your time?
'Oh, you know, various things.'
Sophie stalled. 'I’ve been desperately trying to catch up with my Geography assignments and one of the fourth formers asked me to coach her French. Things like that...'
I have to admit, I admired her guile. Her eyes never left Rowena’s and there was no give-away fidgeting as she gave her reply.
'That's very interesting,' Rowena continued in her chatty way. 'I'm amazed you've been able to do all that and break bounds to meet my boyfriend three times a week'.
Now Sophie did look away, but only momentarily. When her eyes once again locked with Rowena's, her mouth twisted contemptuously
'Your boyfriend’ she 'spat. 'Your boyfriend? Hamish has been bored with you for months, he Just didn't get around to spelling it out for you. You don't have copyright on ways of leaving school to meet lovers, you know.'
The force and venom of her reply astounded us all and we stared blatantly as though seeing her for the first time.
'What you say may have some truth in it’ Rowena responded coolly. 'but I believe you have - shall we say - gone further in your liaison with Hamish Clarke than is generally the practice of Bream Academy girls. As Head Girl, I feel I must put aside my personal feelings and involvement in the matter and decide how such conduct should be dealt with. You could be considered a corrupting influence on some of our younger girls’.
'You hypocritical...!' Sophie began, but Rowena was not to be interrupted.
'It's always difficult, even for the Head Girl, to find an appropriate, condign, punishment when a senior commits a misdemeanour. It’s especially difficult when the fault is so serious. The nearest incident I can think of for comparison was that of Katherine Robson two years ago, you probably remember. she stole a valuable watch from another Prefect and pawned it in the town to finance a weekend tryst. The Head Girl at the tune felt she had to report the incident to out principle as it was beyond her capabilities to deal with. I think I feel similarly about your conduct, Sophie '
‘You can't report me to Dr Tern’ Sophie snarled. 'I'd tell her about yourinvolvement. You wouldn't remain Head Girl for long when it became known that you've been getting Senior Prefects to help you break bounds to meet a boy in town'
'Don't get hysterical, Sophie. Dr Tern would realise that you were lying out of spite. ' Rowena leaned forward and smiled confidently. 'Shall we think again?'
None of us knew what Rowena had in mind and more than one of us could have been described as gawping at the two leading players in this strange scenario. The Head Girl sat more comfortably on her perch and once again assumed the aloof persona we were used to seeing.
'I don't want to see you expelled, Sophie, but your conduct cannot be ignored, 1 give you the choice: do you want me to report your behaviour to Dr Tern, knowing that she'll ask your parents to remove you, or would you prefer the problem to be settled between ourselves?'
For the first time, Sophie's poise slipped, but she was still on the offensive 'You'd do it, wouldn’t you? You'd really get me thrown out of the Academy just because you couldn’t keep your boyfriend from wandering off to more interesting pastures. And you'd happily broadcast all the smut you could manufacture, right?'
Despite the query, it was obvious she didn't expect a response. 'Well, it’s obvious I don't want to be expelled and it’s equally obvious you're serious about this ridiculous kangaroo court you've set up. So go on, tell me my fate - what sentence are you going to pass? Detention? Lines? Loss of privileges?’
I don't know whether it was her aggressive defiance that influenced Rowena's reply or whether she had made up her mind before gathering us all together, but her words sent a cold shiver of shock and anticipation down my spine.
'You will be caned’ she said.
* * * * * *
There were several stifled gasps from the rest of us as we all stared at Rowena, unable to believe she was serious. There was no precedent – true or apocryphal - for anyone of our age being caned. Sixth-formers ran no risk of the rod. regardless of what they did wrong. Glancing nervously at one another, it was clear we all felt her statement to be some kind of joke. Sophie was obviously expending a lot of energy in preventing herself from responding. If it hadn't been for the alternating doubt and shock in her eyes and her hands clasped tightly (symbolically?) behind her back, we could have believed she hadn’t heard. No doubt the stunned silence lasted only a moment, but it seemed an age before the senior girl asked, 'Did ovum hear me? Do you understand?'.
Sophie swallowed hard, took a deep breath and responded defiantly,’ You wouldn't dare.'
As though she hadn't heard, Rowena continued, adopting a tone normally reserved for dealing with junior miscreants:
'You have committed four offences as 1 see it. Firstly, you have broken school bounds; secondly you have been associating, to put it mildly, with a boy form St Patrick’s; thirdly you have done me a personal injustice by seducing my boyfriend and finally you have generally behaved in a way that could bring the name of our school into disrepute. You have already agreed that your peers should punish you, rather than referring the matter to the principal: I have therefore decided – as I said - that you shall be "flogged" as they call it at St Pat's. Because of your age and the seventy of your wrong-doings. I do feel that the usual "six of the best" prescribed for the juniors is inadequate. There was an expectant hush as Rowena paused before announcing, ‘For each of your wicked misdemeanours, Sophie, you will receive eight strokes, on your buttocks'
Now we were all chattering at once, except for Sophie, who was too dumbfounded to respond. The punishment was unheard of in the history of the school and some of us expressed concern at the idea of a girl - albeit well-rounded - being able to endure 32 strokes of the cane. It must be admitted, though. that Sophie’s super figure and glam looks .gave rise to a certain amount of small-minded resentment amongst some of my fellow prefects, and this could well have accounted for the rather spiteful and unsympathetic atmosphere in the study.
'Naturally, Rowena went on, raising her voice above the noise and sounding harsh and strident, 'you cannot be expected to take your total punishment at one go. Instead you will report to the gymnasium in full PE kit, at midnight each Friday for the next four weeks to receive your well-deserved punishment in stages. Have you any comments?'
Sophie was staring at the ground 'I know you’re serious about this, Rowena.' she said softly, 'even if some of the others don't believe it. I'll comply with your suggestion because I don’t want to be expelled just before the exams and I know you won't just let the matter drop.'
'You can go now, Sophie’ Rowena said, returning to her former friendly attitude, 'If I don't see you over the next couple of days, I look forward to seeing you at midnight on Friday’
Sophie turned and left, visibly shaken and pale, but clinging to her composure. Each of us wondered if she would keep the ominous appointment. Rowena's 'sentence' on her was totally outrageous on many counts. But she was genuinely angry and would most certainly have reported Sophie to Dr Tern if she failed to turn up. Sophie's nature, on the other hand, was so malleable that – protest though she had – any other reaction from her to the Head Girl 's orders would have been hard to imagine. I wondered if it were some great hoax and that scaring Sophie into reporting to the gym in her kit, with the attendant humiliation of being laughed at would in the event suffice to satisfy Rowena's need for revenge. Our Head Girl refused to discuss the matter further, except to tell us all to be present on Friday in the gym.
During the intervening days, Sophie avoided all contact with our group, which was not surprising and in many ways was a great relief. Amongst ourselves, many conversations on the subject were started but were aborted in embarrassed speculation. Friday evening found us all unusually engrossed in individual prefectorial duties around the school and even after we had done our 'lights out' round at 10.30, we kept to our separate areas of our two shared dormitories, reading or pretending to sleep.
Twenty minutes before midnight brought Rowena to our rooms to gather us up. She was immaculately turned out in full school uniform and urged us to dress similarly. A couple of us had changed into our civilian clothes as was usual in the evenings and the others had changed into their nightclothes, expecting the whole performance
to be called off, or for their attendance to no longer be required. Hurriedly we all changed back into our weekday wear and put on our piped prefects' blazers, desperately trying to match Rowena for smartness.
We tiptoed down me long corridors and stairways leading to the basement gym. There were no hard-and-fast rules about Senior Prefects remaining in their dormitories at night or specific rules about 'lights out' time for us, but given that our mission was not exactly orthodox, the need for secrecy was great. It was the same when a night-time caning was ordered for a junior, a rare occurrence, but not unknown if we were feeling particularly malicious or if the victim had done something unusually heinous.
As the stroke of midnight rang out from the school clock above the quad we ranged along the far wall of the gymnasium. We must all have had the simultaneous thought that Sophie would not turn up because we all stiffened in mild surprise as the door creaked open. There was only one light switched on and at first she had difficulty spotting us on the other side of the room. She. too, registered surprise at seeing us all but strove to move confidently as she approached Rowena.
She was dressed, as, directed, in the regulation white aertex shirt, with the shadow of her bra clearly visible, navy pleated gym shorts, white ankle socks and white plimsolls. Her hair was caught back in an elastic band and she looked for all the world as though she were about to take part in a normal sports lesson. Rowena circled her, carefully inspecting her outfit for faults, evidently finding none. She stood directly in front of Sophie and they stared into each other's eyes, willing the other to speak or look away.
Eventually, Rowena stepped back and addressed Sophie in her ‘reasonable’ voice.
'Well done, Grant! You have arrived punctually and dressed according to my instructions. I assume from this that you wish the punishment to proceed as agreed?'
Sophie looked away and mumbled an affirmative response
'Good, good. I suppose you are dressed exactly as required?' Rowena asked ominously. We looked at each other in confusion: anyone could see that Sophie was wearing our full PE kit. Still regarding the toes of her gym shoes, Sophie muttered something to the effect of 'Of course', but started violently as Rowena snatched up the side of the flared shorts, revealing scanty pink knickers beneath. Again, once we were in the sixth form, school rules about underclothing were not enforced, but evidently Rowena wanted Sophie to fully adopt the role of naughty schoolgirl, panties and all.
‘I really don't think these are regulation knickers, Grant. ' she said 'Remove your right plimsoll.' The embarrassment Sophie felt must have been almost matched by that of the rest of us. There was a games mistress in the school who, if she caught a pupil wearing non-regulation briefs for her class, would make the girl remove one of her plimsolls and spank her behind with it. Surely Rowena wouldn’t ... ? But she did. 'Touch your toes. Grant’ she commanded and then proceeded to slap the backs of Sophie's thighs twice, just below her bum-cheeks. A red disc appeared on the back of each leg, obviously quite painful, but Sophie stoically ignored them as she replaced her shoe and tied the lace. She then presented herself to the group once more, now slightly flushed.
'We won't waste time, Grant,' said Rowena fetching the long whippy cane from where she had earlier propped it in the corner. 'Tonight's punishment is for breaking school bounds and as you know, you are to receive eight strokes of the Head Girl’s cane on your bottom. Tell me that you agree that the punishment is fair and that you wish me to administer it now.'
After a moment's pause. Sophie recited, 'I broke school bounds and deserve to receive eight strokes of your cane on my bottom. Please begin my punishment, Rowena’.'
'Bend ever the bars, Grant.'
The horizontal parallel bars had been set up with the lower one just a few inches above the floor. The other one was fixed around waist level. The equipment used to facilitate a thrashing varied according to the Prefects' moods: sometimes it was the vaulting horse, on the other occasions the box,yet others might find the victim kneeling over the low wooden forms. By far the favourite piece of apparatus, however, if the girl was well-developed, was the horizontal bars, positioned so that she had to really stretch to grip the lower beam and thus accentuating the target area.
Sophie sighed in resignation to her fate, stood on tiptoe and draped herself over the hard smooth wooden upper bar, grasping the edge of the wooden beam with her fingertips and spreading her legs to maintain her balance. We all knew, from personal and vicarious experience, how difficult it was to maintain this position, because it put a great strain or one’s leg muscles and one always felt that the slightest movement of either limb would cause one to roll over the bars completely. The feeling of vulnerability was therefore very intense. We knew from information gathered throughout the grapevine that at St Pats only one bar was used at waist level with the boys arms spread along it. However, we preferred our technique - or at least, we did if we were the caner rather than the canee.
Rowena stood behind and slightly to the left of Sophie, her arm raising the supple cane high slowly and deliberately. We were mesmerised by the sight, silently arranging ourselves around her, but out of the range of the cane, for a better view.
Suddenly the weapon sliced through the air – far too quickly for our eyes to follow and landed and landed with an echoing CRACK across Sophie Grant's curvy rear. She grunted, but retained her composure. The second stroke fell after a moment’s pause, giving the recipient just enough time to fully appreciate the effect of its predecessor before impact of its own sting slightly lower down the navy-clad rump. Apart from a short gasp and adjusting her fingers on the lower rail, though, Sophie remained quietly dignified.
The loose-fitting pleated shorts rode up and flared over her raised bottom outlining it perfectly and revealing the frill of the illicit pink panties clearly visible. On being reminded of this additional disobedience Rowena clearly decided that further humiliation was deserved and grabbed the waistband of the shorts and dragged them down to poor Sophie’s knees. Somehow the sight of the two bum-cheeks tightly clad in a tiny pair of sexy knickers was even more shocking. Her bottom was scarcely protected and our head girl imparted the next strokes with slow deliberation –each one landing with full force on the drum-tight nylon - a heart-stopping WHIP-THWACK - on a different section of Sophie's behind and timed to afford maximum effect.
Throughout, Sophie remained almost silent, very obviously striving not to give Rowena the satisfaction of a response, and this was increasing Rowena's anger.
After the fourth stroke flashed, Rowena allowed a longer pause than had hitherto been the trend –possibly to rest her arm - and delivered a short lecture.
You must realise, Grant, that I am not administering this punishment out of personal anger, but because you have behaved in such an outrageous manner that no other way can be found to make you suitably penitent.You acknowledged as much when you asked me give you the caning. We are now hallway through this stage of your thrashing: the next four strokes will encourage you to reconsider your actions and modify your behaviour in the future. I also hope that the fact that I have exposed your knickers to the rest of the prefects will make you obey school uniform rules in future.
Stepping back, she raised the cane high so that it whistled its way on to the target - the flesh just below the line of Sophie's skimpy panties. There was a harsher sound of impact and now it was impossible for Sophie not to react. She groaned deeply as the cane struck home, and then let go of the lower bar for an instant in a reflexive impulse to rub her rear. She knew better than to do so, however, and with her lower lip visibly trembling, she forced herself to remain in position. Rowena paused for several seconds, during which Sophie must have felt all our eyes burning holes in her up-thrust buttocks.
Number six landed loudly, parallel to and just below the stroke before. Now Sophie's instincts got the better of her and she brought her arms up to grasp the upper beam, her back arching, gasping, with tears spurting from under clenched eyelids
'Get back into position at once, Grant!'
'No,' Sophie sobbed 'Please, Rowena, that's enough. You've made your point. I'm sorry about what I did but I just can’t take any more...'
She turned to face her chastiser and just the look on Rowena's face compelled her to once more take up her undignified stance. Slowly, she once again upended herself, two lurid red weals now glaringly visible below the flimsy knickers.
Once again, Rowena made her wait, all but inviting us lesser prefects to feast our gaze on Sophie Grant’s humiliated bottom.
Finally, as it if it would never happen,the cane described its shrill arc, landing with a startling THWACK below its predecessors. There were now three angry parallel lines close together on the soft vanilla-toned flesh. The effect on Sophie was almost comica1 as she sobbed and spluttered and kicked her legs compulsively, Rowena observed silently until Sophie quietened down again and then raised her arm for the
final swipe. By now Sophie was beyond responding and merely sobbed hysterically as It arrived predictably even lower just where her bottom cheeks joined her thighs. Rowena's interest was obviously waning now that Sophie had lost control and been reduced to begging in vain. She stared impassively at her victim's heaving backside and the fiery band at the top of Sophie's legs. The marks from the plimsoll slaps barely showed in comparison.
It was a long, long time before Sophie's crying subsided into pitiful whimpers and the beaten girl eventually managed to ease herself back over the parallel bars and stand upright.
Her face looked as red and puffy as the area Rowena had punished and she made no attempt to wipe away the tears or rub her anguished posterior. She looked a sorry sight with her shorts down by her ankles and her pain as she bent down to pull them up was all-too-obvious.
She seemed completely stunned.
In a low, calm voice Rowena said 'We'll see you here at the same time next week. When you have become yourself again, return to your dormitory. Goodnight.'
We fell in behind her and trooped back to our sleeping quarters leaving Sophie to shower and change and think. That night I found it very hard sleep.
The following week was uneventful and Sophie avoided our company. She made some excuse to get out of games and swimming, so we presumed that the evidence of her harsh chastisement was still visible.
On Friday night we assembled as before and exactly on time Sophie arrived. Again, she appeared impeccably turned out, though with more apparent signs of nervousness. Rowena once again circled her, tapping the long cane against the palm of her own hand.
'What kind of knickers are you wearing, Grant?' she barked
'Regulation navy'
'Prove it. Remove your shorts’
Realising that argument was futile, Sophie resignedly unfastened the hook al the side of her shorts and undid the zip. With as much dignity as the situation allowed, she slipped the navy folds down the full length of her splendid legs and stepped out of them. I assumed that this indicated an intention on Rowena's part to cane Sophie in just her briefs.
'So you are. Take them off.'
'WHAT?'
Sophie's surprise was shared by us all because of its implication. I was shocked to realise that Rowena obviously intended to administer a bare bottom caning - an extreme rarity, even where younger pupils were concerned.
I felt my own bum-cheeks clench in sympathetic shame and anticipation, but a certain surging in my belly also told me I was intrigued - if not excited - by the prospect.
We watched, fascinated, as the schoolgirl knickers - a souvenir from much earlier days, to judge by the painfully and revealing tight fit slowly descended the shapely columns to join the shorts on the floor.
'Very good. Grant’ Rowena gloated
'You obviously learnt something from last week's session. Let me know you understand why we are here and how you wish me to punish you'
Sophie bit her lower lip so hard I was surprised she didn't break the skin, but at last she said very softly, in a monotone, 'We are here because 1 need to be punished for breaking the school rules. 1 would like you to deliver eight strokes of the cane on my naked bottom'
'Very well. Grant. If you insist. Take up your position’
Once again. Sophie's well developed form draped itself over the pre-positioned bars. Without her shorts to hold it in place, her shirt rode up high on her back, leaving a bare expanse from above her waist down to her ankle socks. Her bottom and thighs were drawn taut and clearly visible were three grazes and several small bruises where the cane had hit the naked flesh the week before. They were mimicked by a long line around her waist and at the top of each thigh where the tight panties had pinched. Because of the need to part and stretch her legs in order to maintain balance, we had a clear view of Sophie's teak toned pubic hair making her seem even more vulnerable and exposed
'COUNT EACH STROKE ALOUD’ ordered Rowena and with no more ado brought the first swipe down hard below the base of Sophie's back where her buttocks began the division.
Sophie's head bucked up, but she called out 'One' clearly and strongly 'Two,' she called. as the next landed with a sharp TWANG about an inch below.
‘Three’ and 'Four' were each gasped between clenched teeth as they landed close together on the crown of her seat which was now writhing over the beam.
'Five' was shrieked as the cane cracked down across the very centre of the punishment area. The force of it caused Sophie to snap upright her hands scrabbling to rub away the smart.
'Return to your correct position at once unless you want extra strokes you disobedient girl.'ordered Rowena.
'NO!' sobbed Sophie, her skin glowing with perspiration and her face awash with tears.
'BEND OVER!' she was commanded
Slowly she raised herself up and bent over the top bar. Eventually she found the strength and willpower to remove her hands from her backside and once more take hold of the lower beam.
'Six.' she mumbled just after the glowing spheres absorbed another biting whack. If Rowena continued to follow this path, she would inevitably strike the thigh flesh still tender from the previous week's ministrations. She paused and openly considered the situation.
The expanse of Sophie’s rear was covered with carefully spaced vivid raised red lines, looking awfully painful. Joining each weal to its neighbour was a paler pinkish band. I had never witnessed so harsh a punishment before and couldn’t really believe that Rowena would inflict yet another two strokes. Six of the best seemed more than enough somehow. However, even as I contemplated on this matter, Sophie’s tormentor was raising in the air and then swishing across the raging tramlines to light a long diagonal fire over both cheeks, top right to bottom left.
‘Seven’ she lisped, her bared buttocks continuing to spasm and shake.
'Eight!' she cried in a tear cracked croak but made no attempt to rise.
We gazed appalled at the evidence of our ‘justice’. Contrary to popular fantasy, girls boarding schools are not populated by elfin nymphets or curvaceous sex goddesses cavorting about naked in each other's beds. We tended to be very modest and scarcely ever saw one another unclothed. Certainly seeing Sophie's private areas on display was something of a revelation and even through the disfiguring welts, the soft fullness was undeniably alluring. I wanted to trace the patterns of the weals with my fingertips, to feel their texture and warmth. I also wondered how my own anatomy would have borne up under those circumstances.
'Same time next week’ Rowena murmured - herself somewhat subdued and left the gym. Someone went to assist Sophie, whose teeth were chattering and whose limbs obviously were not responding to her attempts to stand. Unfortunately, Rowena came back at that moment and saw this breach of protocol.
‘Julie Clements, how dare you help a disgraced pupil – do you want a trashing too?’ Julie looked terrified and apologised at once – in her current mood, Rowena might decide to beat any of us. ‘Very well, I’ll excuse you but if any of you breach discipline again you will be punished just as Sophie has been. Julie, you're now on my watch list if there's the slightest breach I'll have your knickers down for six stingers with the strap’.
We left poor Sophie gathering up her discarded garments, all of us sharing common mixture of shame for our part in her humiliation, excitement at what we had witnessed and contempt her weakness in bringing it upon herself and then putting up with it. But above anything else we were now terrified that if we gave her the slightest excuse, Rowena would have our bottom’s bared and would be bringing her viscious cane down without mercy.
* * * * *
Once more, Sophie avoided contact with the rest of us during the ensuing days. Some of us tried to persuade Rowena to cal1 off the two remaining appointments but no mercy however was forthcoming and we just risked her punishing us for insubordination.
Midnight Friday found us yet again in attendance in the gym. The school clock chimed twelve and we heard the click of the door to the changing room opening, but it must have been a full minute before Sophie silently and sullenly joined us.
‘I thought we’d change the procedure tonight, Grant, I borrowed this from our friends at St Patrick's and we thought we'd try it out. Arms outstretched towards Sophie, Rowena displayed a two-tongued tawse. We had heard of this famous implement from our contacts at the boys' school, but until now we had never actually seen it. To my eyes it possessed a magnetic threatening power and looking at it I felt a churning in my guts. I just kept thinking how someone had deliberately cut the leather with the explicit intention of creating a painful weopon to punish the bottoms of naughtly schoolgirls. What went through that person's mind as they did their job? My mind boggled.
‘As this will be a new experience for all of us, Grant’ Rowena said matter of factly, '1 would like you to write an account of tonight’s activity so that we can all gain greater understanding. It doesn't have to be a particularly long report, but I would like it to be fully detailed - 'graphic ' 1 think is the appropriate word. Let us know how it feels. Write it over me weekend and put neat copies in our pigeon-holes by Monday lunch-time. Right get ready.
Sophie arranged herself in the familiar position and awaited her fate.
On Monday, each of us received a copy of her account.
Rowena told me to get in position for the third stage of my punishment. As instructed, I was wearing my old gymslip with tight white knickers underneath. I was very nervous as I had no idea how the tawse would feel and my bottom was still very sore from the bare-arse caning I had received the previous week. - The individual cuts were still clearly visible and I still felt bruised and tender. Although not particularly thick, I hoped my knickers would offer some kind of protection. I assumed, correctly, that Rowena would make me raise my skirt.
The first blow was almost reassuring, it landed squarely on the centre of my bottom and although very heavy it had none of the excruciating bite of the cane. I absorbed the first two strokes with barely a murmur as they were spaced well apart. The third landed on top of an earlier one. though, and it made me yelp. My bottom began to progress from a feeling of tolerable warmth to uncomfortable heat.
Rowena then decided that I wasn’t suffering enough and decided to take my knickers down. Like last time, this was incredibly embarrassing but worse it exposed my tender flesh to the strap much more directly. I found the next three blows almost unbearable as each fell on a part of me that had either already been hit or was exceptionally sore from the earlier caning. The tongues of the tawse splayed out so that the impact was doubled each time spreading the scorching discomfort much more quickly and effectively. My feet started kicking up behind me and I found it really difficult to stop them, although I was terrified of losing my balance and toppling over the bars.
Given that the tawse was new to us all. Rowena showed remarkable dexterity in making the final two blows land alternately on each cheek.. Later I was to see that the way the strap was divided made each stroke from it leave two distinct impressions.. The pain was incredible and I shrieked and cried like a child.
When the others had left. I hobbled into the changing room as I had the previous weeks and ran a cool shower. I stripped off and examined my reflection in one of the full length mirrors. I was shocked by the appearance of my bottom. The marks that remained from the cane were now highlights on a vista of angry solid red, with my thighs each bearing four broad scarlet bands. I knew from my earlier experience that these would be more irritating than the damage to my actual bullocks as my skirt and knickers would constantly graze them at even the slightest movement.
I took my shower and towelled dry - gently – in front of the mirror. As well as being sore and red, I was aware that my bottom was also swollen. The flesh feeling spongy to my touch. This was confirmed when I tried to put my panties on. My skin was too sensitive to be able to wear them. So I just wore my gymslip to return to the dorm. I slept. on my tummy and in the morning my bottom had returned to its normal size, although the high colour remained.
I am relieved to think that next week will bring an end to these painful beatings and in some ways wish the appointment could be brought forward. But I know that my bottom could not withstand further chastisement in its present delicate state.
None of us acknowledged receipt of the missive and we never alluded to its contents. I must confess, however, that 1 found them fascinating and reread my copy on more than a few occasions resolving to try the tawse out on a naughty junior as soon as I could find the excuse.
We met for the final session in the usual way and were surprised to find Sophie suitably attired and already waiting for us.
Rowena went to the store cupboard and came back triumphantly brandishing what at first seemed to be a bundle of twigs. Then we realised its true nature - it was a four-branched birch. We had once long ago read an account of soccer hoo1igans being birched on the Isle of Man and had spent many subsequent free periods speculating on this savage tool.
'Rowena, said Sarah, a normally fairly reserved member of the prefectoral group. 'You can't possibly give eight strokes with the birch. As it's got four parts, why not give her just three?' .
Rowena smiled sweetly. 'Of course I wouldn't dream of administering eight strokes from this. I had already decided to reduce the punishment to four. But one more word from you, Sarah and you’ll be bending over those bars to receive the other four yourself. Now, Grant, are you ready?’
Sophie eyes the dreaded weapon. ‘Please deliver four blows of the birch to my behind Rowena’ she said woodenly.
For the first time I saw somebody’s knees literally knock together as Sophie lurched towards the bars.
'Remove your shorts, they'll get in the way’ Rowena told her. 'You can keep your knickers on, though’
Trembling Visibly, Sophie prepared herself. Her knuckles were white, she gripped the lower bar. The navy knickers were stretched over the firm, round globes so that her burgeoning buttocks looked like ripe fruits trying to burst their skins.
The first stroke landed with a vicious swish, bringing forth an animal wail from its subject. She jerked spasmodically, causing the second stroke to catch her naked thighs. A rhythmic panting scream burst forth and Rowena - obviously shocked by the strength Sophie's reaction – delivered the final two blows swiftly and without a clearly-defined aim. Scarlet streaks criss-crossed one another maniacally. Sophie's gyrations made her soft buttock flesh ripple. It was as though her knickers contained a pair of wild animals fighting to escape the confines. Amidst the stark whiteness of her shirt and against dark soberness of her panties and the milky-paleness of her skin the crimson slashes stood out in a crazy trellis her thigh-tops where they could be seen Sophie screamed and sobbed for half an hour and we all except Rowena, sat with her until she felt strong enough to shower. As she undressed we saw the full damage inflicted by the birch to the tender nether regions and each one of us gave an involuntary shudder.
* * * *
It was a few weeks later that we were all lined up in assembly seated, as normal, behind Dr Tern and the rest of the staff. The headmistress stood at the lectern and said ‘I have today a very unpleasant duty. I leaned yesterday that a few weeks ago a major breach of school discipline took place when Sophie Grant was found to have broken bounds. Unfortunately, rather than refer this to me, our Head Girl, decided to take it upon herself to inflict punishment. Her chosen method has now been revealed to me by Grant’s parents and I have to say I am shocked at the savagery of the thrashings meted out. Grant has been in considerable discomfort for some time afterwards and her parents have threatened action against the school’
As the head went on I looked at Rowena – sitting, immaculately dressed as ever, and staring straight ahead without apparent concern.
‘Rowena Davies has been a fine pupil of this school and an excellent head girl but this almost sadistic beating of another girl goes way beyond what is acceptable. It is a flagrant breach of protocol and I have no option but to punish you, Rowena.’
The head girl, for the first time in her life, looked genuinely frightened.
‘Punish me?’ she said ‘but I’m head girl’.
‘That’s as may be’ replied Dr Tern ‘You have exceeded your remit and you must be punished. Since you chose to thrash Sophie Grant in front of her peers I have decided it is right to do the same to you. And I’ve decided to do it right now to avoid dragging this distressing incident out. Please step forward, Davies.’
One thing I’ll say for Rowena, she’s not a coward. She clearly knew that arguing was pointless and would only humiliate her further. She stepped forward stoically and looked straight at the headmistress.
‘I apologise for what I did, Dr Tern, but Sophie deserved a sound beating. I realise I broke school rules by administering it myself and I now deserve to be punished. Please let me know my fate’
Dr Tern rarely administered the cane but today was to be an exception. ‘You will receive twelve strokes of the cane, Rowena. Six on the best over your knickers and the final six on the bare. Now please remove your skirt and bend over, grasping your ankles.
With the whole school watching in awe, the head girl unzipped her elegant navy skirt and pulled it down over her bottom and stepped neatly out of it. The sight that then greeted us what more like something from a glamour mag than a schoolroom. Rowena was wearing a set of knickers and suspenders in purest white of the sexiest kind. A broderie anglaise pattern across the seat of the pants allowed her honey brown flesh to show thorough. Dark stockings set off her legs.
’I’ve no doubt you’d award extra strokes for non-regulation uniform, Rowena’ remarked Dr Tern sarcastically ‘but I think you’ll find the thrashing I’m going to administer quite sufficient. Now bend over’
Rowena did so, the fullness of her bottom tightening the fabric of the knickers to bursting point. Dr Tern picked up a thick but flexible cane from behind the lectern and tested it on the drum-tight satin. Then, quite suddenly, she raised it and whacked it down on Rowena’s bottom.
I won’t describe the next few strokes but, as I’d expect, Rowena made no sound and merely counted each stroke ‘one, thank you Dr Tern, two, thank you Dr Tern...’ and so on. The head hit hard but you wouldn’t have thought so from Rowena’s demeanour. She was so strong.
At the sixth stroke Dr Tern paused.
‘Well taken, Davies’ She said ‘But I doubt whether you’ll find the next six so easily. Let’s have these down now, shall we?’
With that rhetorical question, the head slipped her fingers into the waistband of those little panties and peeled them very slowly down to the stocking-tops.
‘Legs apart, let’s not let them fall too far’ she said.
Rowena’s bottom was a beauty but I couldn’t help wondering how she had taken the first six strokes so well since you could already see the stripes from the cane very clearly. I didn’t have time to think about this for long, though, as Dr Tern continued the beating.
The cane whacked down really hard on Rowena’s left cheek and now she did cry out. That clearly encouraged the Head for the eighth stroke was a cracker, landing with full force right across the centre of poor Rowena’s buttocks.
And the final four were equally brutal – Dr Tern was now caning to hurt and hurt she certainly did. Rowena’s lags kicked up at each strokes and her knickers fell down to her ankles. She was crying openly.
At last the twelfth stroke fell and Dr Tern delivered her final words
‘Stand up now and pull your knickers back up. You have taken your punishment well, Rowena but let me warn you. If I ever find you exceeding your authority again you will be back here for more and it will be significantly more severe. You gave grant the tawse and the birch as well, I believe and I’m very tempted to do the same to you. If you are ever in breach again, rest assured, your bottom will be the worse for it’.
With that she marched off the stage and Rowena pulled her skirt back on and led us off too. She looked in pain but held herself characteristically straight.
I wondered if she would ever refer to the incident again. She didn’t but her standards became even higher and at any excuse, it seemed, any of the girls could find themselves summoned for punishment. That was just the way Rowena liked it.
