Naughty Nicki

Mike From London again with another schoolgirl story. Nicki gets strapped and caned on her knickers and finally beaten hard on the bare. Quite right too. Ouch!
Nicki Edwards knew she was in bad trouble when she was caught by a prefect in the act of writing a rude message on the wall of the girls' toilets in the school dinner hour. A great deal of graffiti had appeared recently and the headmistress, Miss Hayhoe, had announced in assembly earlier that week that any girls found to be involved in this sort of misbehaviour in future would be 'dealt with by herself'. Nicki knew what that meant.
"Look, give me a chance," she pleaded. "I'll rub it out straight away! Don't report me to Miss Hayhoe!"
But Jill Hastings was unimpressed. "Come on Nicki!" she said, "Leave that where it is for the moment. We're going to see Miss Hayhoe!"
"But I'll get the cane!" Nicki said miserably. "Oh, please, give me a chance just this once! This is the first time I've ever written anything and I'll never do it again, honestly! Come on, have a heart! Please . . ."
Jill looked at the naughty girl. Wearing her uniform of blue school blazer, white blouse, red and blue tie and knee-length pleated grey school skirt, and with her light brown hair tied in a pretty pony-tail, the pleading fifth former looked much younger than her sixteen years. Nicki bit her lower lip in trepidation and raised her large grey eyes pleadingly to the face of the prefect. She really didn't want to sample another dose from the headmistress's cane. Nicki could clearly recall the biting sting of that vicious punishment implement from a time she'd been sent to Miss Hayhoe's office over two years before. At the sudden clear memory her hands subconsciously went to the back of her skirt.
"That's enough, Nicki," Jill said sharply, amused despite herself at the way Nicki was obviously anticipating a very sore bottom. "I'm taking you to Miss Hayhoe and that's all there is to it! And I think we'll take this along as evidence!" Stooping down the tall, elegant sixth former picked up the marker pen Nicki had dropped in surprise at her sudden appearance.
"No, please!" Nicki tried for the last time. I don't deserve the cane for my first time, do I? Can't you report me to another teacher for the strap - or even give me the strap yourself? Only the cane's so awful . ."
At Chandos School only the Headmistress was permitted punish with the cane. Other teachers made use of a tawse or strap when they considered that physical chastisement was called for. Prefects were not really supposed to strap naughty girls, but quite often did so as an alternative to reporting them. Like most lively and mischievous girls in her class Nicki had been tawsed several times. It stung for a while but was not too bad and Nicki could shrug it off. But a caning was different! She'd only been caned once, but that had been enough - more than enough!
Jill considered the proposal. It might be quite enjoyable to strap this young lady's situpon! She made up her mind. "You should have thought of that before! Come on! Straight away unless you want me to report you for disobedience as well!"
Sullenly Nicki followed the prefect along the school corridors. She thought it was humiliating to have to plead for mercy to a girl less than a year older than herself and now to be marched by her through the school with everyone watching. What a cow! She bet Jill had never had the cane. Probably not even the tawse. She just hoped that one day that superior bitch found out for herself just how much the cane hurt, but she did not think there was much chance of it.
When they arrived outside Miss Hayhoe's study Jill told Nicki to wait outside while she knocked and went in. Nicki stood there, dismally wondering how many strokes she would get. It had been four last time and that had been bad enough, but it would probably be more this time. The last girls in her class to be caned had got 'six of the best' apiece for smoking.
After a few minutes Jill opened the door and asked Nicki to come in. The Headmistress was sitting behind her desk and the expression on her face did not provide any comfort to the naughty seventeen year old. Miss Hayhoe looked at her in silence for a few minutes and then spoke:
"Well, Nicola! Jill Hastings has told me that she caught you writing on the walls of the toilets. Have you anything to say?"
"No, Miss. I'm sorry, but that was the only time I've ever done it, honestly! I swear I'll never do it again!"
"I see," said Miss Hayhoe, dryly. Turning to Jill she went on, "All right, Jill, you may go now. You have done very well and acted as I would expect one of my prefects to act. I will deal with this young lady!" Jill left the study, happy in her Headmistress's approval.
Little Nicki was left, shifting nervously from one foot to another before Miss Hayhoe's cold glance. Nicki felt awful. It was dreadful that a girl of her age, old enough to go to bed with her boyfriend or even to get married, should have to stand there waiting to hear this middle aged spinster decide how much her rear end would soon be hurting! Miss Hayhoe broke the silence.
"You heard what I said in Assembly the other day, didn't you Nicola?"
Nicki nodded her head and mumbled "Yes, Miss" very quietly.
"Then you know that I have no choice other than to punish you severely. As you enjoy writing so much I will give you an opportunity! You will write out the words 'I must not write graffiti on the school premises' 300 times. You will hand the lines to me before Assembly next Monday."
Nicki was surprised. She had never been given so many lines before at one time. But she would have welcomed 500 lines if it meant that her bottom would escape Miss Hayhoe's cane! The Headmistress continued:
"I will confiscate this marker. If you want it back you can ask me for it at the end of term."
Nicki couldn't care less about the marker! She hoped Miss Hayhoe had finished, but she couldn't really believe it. Was it possible that she might be let off with just lines and a strapping?
Miss Hayhoe paused and Nicki's tension reached its height.
"All right, Nicola, you may go now!"
Nicki couldn't believe it. She had got off with just lines!
But Miss Hayhoe had not finished yet. "And you will return at four o'clock, when I shall endeavour to make you appreciate just how seriously I view your activities!"
Poor Nicki left the office feeling as though she was going to be sick. Miss Hayhoe hadn't said in so many words that she was going to be caned, but it was obvious. It was only canings, and then only severe canings, which took place after school.
Nicki made her way back to the toilets. There she locked herself in one of the cubicles - not the one with her graffiti - and had a quiet cry to herself for what remained of the dinner hour.
Her friends were sympathetic when they heard of Nicki's disaster, but they could do little to comfort her.
"Oh! Nicki!!" said Jane Elliot, her best friend. "What awful luck! That Jill Hastings is a right bitch. She got me a tawsing from Miss Hayhoe last term."
"It's just not fair, Jane!" Nicki said dismally. "You know most of those graffiti were written by Sally and Clare. Even you've written more up than I have! It's just not fair that you all get off and I get caned!"
Jane was quite shocked. "Come on, Nicki," she said, "you're not going to sneak are you? It's just bad luck. It could just as easily have happened to me."
Nicki thought that her friend would not be so casual about a caning if it had, but she reassured her that she would not tell on her or the other girls.
Nicki found it very difficult to pay attention in class that afternoon. She was thinking about how sore her bottom was going to be and how unfair it all was. She tried to think if there was any chance that she might escape uncaned. Perhaps Miss Hayhoe would suddenly be taken ill! There might be an earthquake!
"Nicola!"
Nicki was shaken out of her reverie by Mr Anderson's angry voice.
"Nicola, have you been paying attention?" asked the History master. "Stand up!"
Most of Nicki's classmates knew of her impending caning and guessed what she had been thinking about. Nicki stood up, blushing.
"Well, Nicola. What can you tell the class about Henry VII's taxation policy?"
Nicki remained silent. She knew nothing about the policy, not even if there'd been one!
"Come on, girl! I've been talking about it for the last half hour!"
Nicki looked down at the floor, but said nothing.
"All right, Nicola. Come out to the front of the class."
Nicki looked round at the rest of the girls despairingly as if someone might help her, and then reluctantly left her place and walked to the front. Mr Anderson made his intentions clear by extracting a heavy twinned tailed tawse from a drawer of his desk.
Nicki had reached the front. "Bend down over that desk, Nicola," ordered Mr Anderson, pointing at an empty desk in the front of the class. This was by no means the first time that Mr Anderson had had occasion to apply his strap to Nicki Edwards' shapely posterior. This time he intended to make sure that the naughty and inattentive girl really got the message.
Nicki hesitated before bending down. She had let the events of the past few minutes just flow over her and had reacted like an automaton, not saying a word since she had been roused from her private thoughts. But now that it came to the point she desperately didn't want to get the tawse today of all days.
"Please, Sir," she said in a tiny voice, "I've got to see Miss Hayhoe at four o'clock for the cane!"
"Oh! I see," said the master. "Well, that's no excuse for inattention in my class, is it? Get yourself down over that desk, Nicola, or you'll be seeing Miss Hayhoe sooner than you think!"
Mumbling a swear word to herself Nicki bent over the desk.
Despite his stern words the History master did feel sorry for poor little Nicki. If he had known about the caning earlier he would have let her off, but he was not prepared to lose face now that she was standing in front of the class. Nevertheless he was not nearly so severe in punishing the girl as had originally intended to be.
He had been going to lift strap Nikki soundly on the bare bottom but instead he merely lifted her skirt and brought the belt down for six moderate whacks on the seat of her tight white knickers. Nicki accepted the infliction in silence, except for an almost inaudible gasp as the last whack landed. She stood up when told to and walked back to her place, her bottom feeling hot and sore. She hoped dismally that it would feel less tender by four o'clock!
Mr Anderson did not pay any attention to Nicki for the rest of the lesson. Her other teachers that afternoon knew about the impending caning and also ignored her. Time passed and Nicki tried to prepare herself mentally for the coming punishment. Suddenly the bell rang for the end of school; it was ten to four.
The other girls prepared to leave and burst into animated conversation, ignoring Nicki. Their evident pleasure at the end of the school day made her feel worse at the thought of what was in store for her. Glumly she picked up her school bag and prepared to make her way to the Headmistress's study. "Hard luck, Nicki!" Jane sympathised as she left."It might not be as bad as you think." Nicki nodded, acknowledging her friend's good wishes, but they both knew that Miss Hayhoe was not likely to go easy on her.
Nicki stood outside the study door without knocking until four o'clock. Several pupils and teachers on their way home gazed curiously at the miserable fifth former. Nicki was oblivious to their stares. She was thinking about Miss Hayhoe's cane!
At exactly four o'clock the petite sixteen year old knocked on the door.
"Come in!" called the Headmistress.
Any lingering hopes that Nicki might have had disappeared at the sight of a crook handled cane, almost a yard long, lying ready for use on the Headmistress's desk next to a large black-covered book. It seemed to Nicki that it was longer and slightly thicker than the one she had felt two years previously. It looked wickedly painful and Nicki gulped at the thought of what it would make her bottom feel like.
"Close the door, Nicola, and put your bag down" ordered Miss Hayhoe.
"I've been in touch with your mother this afternoon, Nicola," the Headmistress continued, addressing the schoolgirl standing to attention before her "and she is completely in agreement with my proposed course of action. We both feel that you deserve a sharp lesson. Your behaviour has deteriorated recently and this graffiti writing is just the last straw. You have been strapped frequently and your conduct has not improved. I don't think you will shrug off the effects of another caning so casually!"
Miss Hayhoe picked the cane up off her desk and swished it through the air a couple of times. It hissed like an angry wasp, showing the terrified girl how viciously whippy it was.
"Bring that stool into the middle of the room," Miss Hayhoe instructed pointing at a high stool hidden in a corner of the study. Nervously Nicki carried the stool and put it down where directed.
"Now take off your blazer and your skirt and then bend down across the stool! You will receive eight strokes of the cane across your knickers."
Nicki did as she was told, placing her clothes neatly on a chair. Drawing a deep breath she leant forward over the stool taking a grip on the bar between its legs. A pair of tight semi-transparent brief white knickers encased the girl's trembling rounded bottom. Miss Hayhoe noted the fading marks left by Mr Anderson's tawse. She nodded grimly. This served to confirm her in her belief that strappings did not suffice for this young lady and that she needed a more severe punishment.
Miss Hayhoe lifted the cane up, behind her shoulders to get the maximum possible swing. She held it there for a few seconds waiting for Nicki's tensed bottom to slightly relax. Then it came whipping down.
It landed with a loud whack squarely across the flinching bottom. Nicki's head shot up, her ponytail flying out, and she gave a yell of surprise and pain. Nicki had thought that she could remember how much the cane had hurt last time, but this was worse, much worse. Somehow she managed to keep hold of the bar and to stay in position.
She had not fully assimilated the effects of that first stroke when Miss Hayhoe brought the second smashing down with equal power just below it. Once again the thin knickers were dented down deeply into the soft, yielding flesh. And once again Nicki screamed out at the violent sting.
This time Miss Hayhoe paused a little longer before the third stroke. After just two whacks Nicola was obviously finding it very difficult to keep still. The Headmistress knew that this cane was supremely painful and intended to make sure that the naughty girl found out as well.
She aimed the next stroke carefully, lower down where the girl would sit. Nicki really felt that one, she howled in pain and burst into tears. The legs of the stool wobbled on the carpet as Nicki nearly unbalanced. The fourth stroke followed quickly and landed on almost the same place. It was too much for Nicki. As she shrieked loudly at the top of her voice her hands flew off the bar and to her sore bottom. Frantically she tried to rub the pain away, but it refused to go - in fact it seemed to get worse! She could feel the swelling weals, rising a quarter of an inch from the surrounding flesh.
Miss Hayhoe allowed Nicki to dance around in an extremely unladylike manner for a few moments and then brusquely ordered her to bend down again over the stool. Sobbing bitterly Nicki begged to be let off, but it was to no avail. The sixteen year old had to resume her undignified position.
"Stay still, girl!" ordered Miss Hayhoe. But, in fact, the Headmistress would have been very disappointed if this naughty girl was able to stay still!
The fifth and sixth strokes lashed down onto Nicki's tender bottom between the two already caned areas. The teenager's reactions showed that these two had hurt just as much as their predecessors.
After Nicki had felt the sixth stroke bite deep into her anguish filled rear, sending waves of overpowering pain to all parts of her body, the schoolgirl tried to tense herself for the final two strokes.
To her surprise Miss Hayhoe tapped her on her shoulder and told her to stand up. Nicki felt relief. It was all over at last. She must have miscounted! She realised that Miss Hayhoe was addressing her.
"You have received six strokes, Nicola. I am prepared to believe that that is sufficient to remind you not to write graffiti for some time to come!"
Nicki, both hands clasped to the rear of her little white knickers, and with tears falling from her pretty face to the floor, fervently agreed. "Oh, yes, Miss! Oh! I'll never do owww . . . wowww do it again, honestly! Oh . . . oh . .oh! It hurts!"
Miss Hayhoe could not help smiling. "It's not as simple as that, Nicola," she said. "Your punishment is eight strokes of the cane. I will let you off the last two if you will give me the names of the other girls involved in this spate of vandalism."
Nicki remained silent. She remembered what Jane had said to her. She was not a sneak. Anyway her bottom was already so sore that she felt sure another two strokes couldn't make much difference.
The Headmistress allowed Nicki a little while to make up her mind. When it was obvious that she chose to remain obdurate Miss Hayhoe told her to resume the punishment position once more.
“Very well” said Miss Hayhoe “If you persist in being so stubborn you can have the last two on the bare” With that the stern headmistress put her finfers into the waistband of the drum-tight panties and slowly peeled them away from the burning bottom, down t the poor girl’s thighs. Her red-striped buttocks flinched in terror.
The last two strokes were the hardest of the punishment. Nicki found out just how wrong she had been in thinking that her bottom couldn't hurt any more! Miss Hayhoe directed both strokes at the fullest part of Nicki's bottom. It was as though her bare flesh had been sliced open with a blunt knife.
After the final stroke Nicki continued to lie across the stool, crying like a new born baby. She had never believed that it could hurt so much. There was no comparison at all to her last caning.
Miss Hayhoe put the cane down carefully on her desk. It had done its job well. She turned to the sobbing girl. "Stand up, Nicola, pull your knickers up" she said.
Nicki eased her pain-wracked body upright. Once more her hands went - in vain - to try to comfort her raw bottom. Miss Hayhoe made her return the stool to its place and put her skirt back on .
Once clothed the still-weeping Nicki stood squirming in pain in front of her headmistress, expecting her dismissal. Little did she guess that her punishment was not yet over!
"Come with me, Nicola!" ordered Miss Hayhoe. "You can leave your blazer on the chair and your bag there on the floor."
Nicki did not have the slightest idea what was going on. But she obeyed instantly - eight strokes of the number one cane on her rear had tamed the naughty girl considerably. Every step was agony as the weals on her blazing bottom rubbed together. Nicki would have walked slowly with small steps, but Miss Hayhoe marched her quickly along the cold and deserted school corridors, ignoring the girl's tears and squeals of pain.
Soon they arrived at the girls' toilets. Mr Pearce, the school caretaker (janitor), was waiting outside. Nicki felt really embarrassed at being seen by him so soon after getting the cane. Mr Pearce looked at the wriggling teenager with undisguised interest. Some of Nicki's agonised yells had reached him and he realised that this naughty girl must have a very sore bottom indeed. He felt little sympathy for her, however. It was his job to clean off the graffiti girls like this one daubed on the walls. Furthermore he recognised Nicki as one of a group of girls who had been rude to him the week before. He was glad that at least one of the little minxes had got what she so richly deserved.
"Now, Nicola," said the Headmistress, "I am leaving you with Mr Pearce for two hours, until", she glanced at her watch, "twenty past six. You will spend that time wiping off the graffiti you and your friends have written and cleaning the toilets generally under his supervision. And I expect you to put some elbow grease into it! I shall be checking with Mr Pearce afterwards."
"B b but, Miss!" Nicki protested, "My mother will be worried if I'm not home!"
"Oh no she won't, young lady," answered the Headmistress, "I told you before that I'd spoken to her. In fact it was her idea that you should clean off the results of your stupid behaviour! And I quite agree with her!"
Miss Hayhoe turned and walked back to her office. There she made a short entry in the Punishment Book and put it and the cane away before starting on a backlog of paperwork.
Meanwhile Mr Pearce had handed Nicki a bucket of soapy water and a large scrubbing brush. Gritting her teeth against the pain still pouring out of her outraged rear, Nicki accepted them and started to work. There was silence, only broken by the slushing of water, the rubbing of the brush and Nicki's snivellings as she fought back the tears. She worked methodically and well, finding that attention to the repetitive task took her mind off the sting in her nether regions.
Mr Pearce looked on approvingly. It seemed that this was one naughty girl who had learned her lesson. When the walls of the first cubicle had been scrubbed down Nicki left the brush in the water and put her hands back to the seat of her skirt, trying to assuage the still raging smart.
The watching caretaker was amused. "Still sore, eh?" he observed. "Your Miss Hayhoe don't use the stick half often enough in my opinion, but when she does she knows how to lay it on! You'll be eating your tea off the mantelpiece tonight, love!"
Nicki ignored the remark and moved to another cubicle to start work again. Mr Pearce kept her hard at it and didn't allow her a chance to rest. She was very tired, her arms and back ached, her bottom was still unbelievably painful, and she was hot, hungry and thirsty - it was long past the normal time for her tea - but the caretaker made sure she kept going.
After nearly two hours Nicki thought she saw her chance to get back at Mr Pearce and 'accidentally' splashed dirty water from her bucket over him. He just smiled and said "That's not very clever."
"Bastard!" mumbled Nicki, under her breath.
It was nearly half past six before Miss Hayhoe returned.
"Well, Mr Pearce," she asked, "has Nicola done a good job?"
"No, Miss. I can't rightly say as she has! She's been slacking and lazy and downright rude to me! Called me a 'bastard' she did!"
"I see. Well you can rest assured that she will be repenting it before she's very much older! Come with me Nicola!"
Directing a look of hatred at Mr Pearce, the sixteen year old followed Miss Hayhoe back to her study. There the Headmistress's lecture flowed over her head. She just hoped that that vicious cane would not reappear. It was with relief mixed with despondency that she saw Miss Hayhoe take a large leather strap from the shelf behind her.
"Skirt off again, Nicola! And we'll have those knickers down again as well!" Nicki did not even attempt to argue, she knew it would be no use. Miss Hayhoe came round and sat on the chair where Nicki's blazer still hung. Nicki put her skirt on the desk and started to carefully unpeel her tight white knickers. Christ Almighty her bum was sore!
"Come on girl! Over my knees!" ordered the Headmistress.
Tearfully Nicki draped herself over Miss Hayhoe. She had had a headmistress's strapping before, always administered bare bottom over Miss Hayhoe's knees, but never before on a recently caned and still searing bottom.
The Headmistress ignored the mass of weals and bruises on Nicki's battered backside. She slammed the belt down with full force for twelve stinging blows - six on each cheek. Nicki struggled furiously and screamed herself hoarse as she felt the effect of those violent impacts on the exposed and so-painful weals covering her behind. After the twelfth whack Miss Hayhoe pushed the punished girl off her knees. Nicki squirmed on the carpet, sobbing and making no effort to get up. Miss Hayhoe grabbed her ponytail and dragged her upright.
"There. Is that enough for you, Nicola? Or do you want some more?"
Dancing in pain Nicki shook her head. No more, please!
"Get dressed then, Nicola. And don't let me see you sent here for punishment again!" When Nicki was dressed Miss Hayhoe dismissed her, reminding her to have the 300 lines ready for Monday.

Lauren's Christmas Present

A great schoolgirl story from 'Mike From London' Lauren clearly deserves a thrashing but the final punishment does seem exceptionally harsh.


Lauren Kennedy had joined her new school so as to take some 'A' levels which were not available at her former school. She had realised that the rules were much stricter there, and her mother had warned her to watch her step as the cane was still used. But Lauren did not think this would affect her in the Sixth Form.
She first realised that she could be wrong three weeks into her first term. The maths teacher arrived late for a lesson, and when she got there the class was in some disorder. Two girls, Sharon Hill and Angela Shepherd, were at the front giving imitations of the teacher's voice and manner. When Miss Peters finally arrived they rushed back to their seats and the class quietened down again. Lauren expected that the episode would be ignored and the lesson would continue. That was what would have happened at her old school. Things were different here.
"Right!" Miss Peters ordered, "Both of you come back here. And bring the Board with you!" The girls obeyed her, Sharon picking up the Board from the corner of the classroom on her way. Lauren did not know what the Board signified. She had noticed it before, though. It held a list of the names of all the girls in the Sixth Form, and there were copies in all the classrooms they used. Lauren noticed that both girls were looking very serious now, and that Angela in particular seemed really worried.
Sharon placed the Board on Miss Peters' desk and Lauren saw the angry teacher write something on it, using a ruler. Then she scribbled a brief note and turned to Angela.
"You are a very silly girl," she said. "Take this note, and the Board to Mrs Wallace. And come straight back afterwards!"
As Angela departed Lauren became aware of a special tension in the atmosphere. Could Angela be going to get the cane? But why hadn't Sharon been sent as well? It didn't seem fair!
Lauren took advantage of the teacher's turned back to whisper to her neighbour, Rosalind Baxter: "What's happening? Is Angela going to get the cane?" Rosalind nodded her head silently. She had no desire to attract the attention of Miss Peters in her present mood.
After about ten minutes the door opened and Angela reappeared. She walked slowly, with short steps, and was obviously in pain. As she entered the classroom all eyes turned to her and she blushed deeply. Lauren could see that her eyes were red and swollen. It was plain to see that she had been crying.
"Ah. Good," said Miss Peters, "You've rejoined us, then. It looks as though you've had a productive meeting with Mrs Wallace! How many did you get?"
"S-six, miss. I'm sorry I ..."
"You're sorry that your bottom hurts! All right, we've wasted enough time; sit down!"
Angela limped to her desk and sat down, carefully. It took her two attempts and even then she could not sit down properly and wriggled on her seat in evident discomfort for the rest of the lesson.
After the lesson Lauren asked Rosalind whether girls in their year were often caned, and why only Angela and not Sharon had been sent to Mrs Wallace. Rosalind explained that Angela had been 'on report'. If one of the teachers wanted to punish a girl they would place her on report, usually for between one and three weeks. This would be indicated by drawing a rectangle on the 'Report Board' against the girl's name, covering the relevant weeks. If the girl misbehaved again during a report period then she could be sent to Mrs Wallace, who would usually cane her. Angela had been placed on report earlier that week.
In answer to Lauren's other question, Rosalind said that canings were now relatively rare in their year, but had been more frequent in the more junior forms. Out of their whole maths class she said that only Jane and Wendy had definitely never been caned, and she wasn't sure about Alison. She explained that Mrs Wallace almost always gave at least six strokes when senior girls - fifth years and above - were caned, but that it could be more. Also when a girl was caned her report period was extended by a further three weeks after the week of the caning. Lauren asked her whether the cane really hurt terribly.
"Well! You saw Angie," Rosalind replied, "Of course it does! The most I've ever had was three strokes when I was in the fourth year, and I cried my eyes out. Six strokes must be sheer hell, but I don't want to find out for myself!"
Lauren resolved that she, too, would try to stay out of trouble. She was appalled at the thought that what had happened to Angela could happen to her. Her bottom had never been subject to any ministrations more severe than a few mild slaps from the palm of her mother's hand.
As the term wore on Lauren could see that Rosalind had been right. Sharon and Angela both survived their report periods without further trouble and, although two or three girls were put on report, no other girl from her classes was sent to Mrs Wallace. However Lauren could see that canings were still common in the lower years. Several times she saw younger girls waiting nervously outside the headmistress's office; and she sometimes saw them afterwards, tearful and in pain, hands clasped to the seats of their skirts.
Lauren herself stayed well out of trouble - until just before half term. Miss Peters told her off for talking in class, and Lauren answered her back. She hadn't quite lost the habits she had learned at her old school, but it didn't do here. Miss Peters called her out and she was put on report for the next week.
Lauren was very worried, but her new friends reassured her. Christine Parrish told her that she'd been put on report about a dozen times, but had only ever had the cane once. And Wendy Yates said she had also been on report loads of times, and had never had the cane. Even so Lauren decided to watch her step very carefully over the next week.
So when her friends went out to the local pub one lunchtime, to celebrate Caroline Jackson's seventeenth birthday, Lauren didn't go with them. If they were caught they would only be told off - she could get the cane.
Lauren mooched about the school in a very bad mood. Julia Bridger, a rather nasty girl in her year, who was not friendly with Caroline or Lauren, or indeed with anybody, started to tease her. This was a favourite game of hers with girls on report, who were usually not willing to respond for fear of the consequences. But in Lauren's mood it was like a red rag to a bull. She grabbed Julia's hair and started to hit her. Julia yelled at the top of her voice, attracting the attention of the duty mistress, who told the girls to get the Board and come with her to the headmistress.
"Oh no, miss, please," Lauren pleaded, "I'm on report. I'll get the cane!"
"You should have thought of that earlier, young lady. Come on, both of you!" the mistress replied sternly.
Mrs Wallace soon elicited the whole story. She gave Julia a thorough telling off, placed her on report for three weeks, and gave her 200 lines to do by the next day - under threat of a caning if they weren't ready on time. She then dismissed the crestfallen Julia who, however, derived some twisted pleasure from the thought of how uncomfortable Lauren would find sitting down that afternoon. But Lauren's bottom was not to feel the cane that day.
Mrs Wallace told her that she did not like to cane sixth formers, and that as she was a new girl, and had never been caned, she would give her a less severe punishment than usual: "It will still be six strokes, Lauren, but with the tawse rather than the cane, and on the hands, not the buttocks."
The headmistress selected the two-tailed tawse from the cabinet and brought it down with a hard whack on her desk. It was the first time Lauren had ever seen a tawse. She remembered Denise, who had been tawsed saying it hurt more than the cane but at least it was to be on her hands not her bottom which would have been so much more embarrassing.
"Hold your left hand out, Lauren." Mrs Wallace ordered, "Fingers together and hold your thumb away."
As the girl did so Mrs Wallace noticed that she was wearing a ring. This was against school rules even for sixth formers. It was not too rigidly enforced, but it was not tactful to wear jewellery on a visit to the headmistress's office. Mrs Wallace told her to take the ring off. She said that as Lauren was to be strapped on the hands she would not increase the number of strokes as she would normally. Instead Lauren's report period would be extended to the end of term. Then she told her once more to hold out her hand.
Reluctantly Lauren did so. She gulped as the tawse was raised. She could still not fully believe that she was going to be strapped. Surely something would happen to interrupt it, there would be a last minute reprieve! But the tawse began to whiz downwards, and Lauren closed her eyes tightly.
CRACK!!
The tails of the tawse whacked into the tender flesh of Lauren's palm with full force. She gasped at the sudden stinging pain, but kept her hand held out. The second stroke followed the first with equal venom. Lauren's face crumpled and she yelped with pain. Her hand jerked away and her body doubled forward. Mrs Wallace allowed her a few moments and then told her to hold her left hand out again for its last stroke. Bravely Lauren extended her stinging hand. Tears were beginning to trickle down her cheeks. Somehow she forced herself to keep her hand held out, open. The third stroke was the hardest yet. The strap slashed down on to the tender flesh of Lauren's delicate palm, crossing the emergent weals caused by the first two strokes. Lauren shrieked at the violent pain, waving her hand wildly and hopped from foot to foot in agony.
"Now the other hand!"
Lauren's whole body shook as she raised her right arm. Mrs Wallace steadied the girl's hand and took careful aim. Then she whistled the tawse down with all her skill on to the as yet unpunished palm.
WHACK
"N-n-n-n-nooooooo!" yelled Lauren, shaking her head wildly and snatching her hand away.
It was some time before Mrs Wallace could persuade the now weeping sixteen year old to proffer her painful right hand once more. Lauren pleaded to be let off but, although Mrs Wallace could see that the girl had already been punished severely she could see no reason for her to be given less than six strokes, the usual minimum for senior girls. She told Lauren that if she did not immediately hold out her hand Miss Kilmister, the secretary, would be called in. Lauren would then be forcibly held down to receive a further six strokes on her bottom.
With a groan Lauren obeyed. Mrs Wallace did not deliver the next stroke with full force, but it still stung sharply on the teenager's tender palm. Lauren yelled once again, but managed to keep her hand in position.
But as the tawse hissed viciously down for the final time she withdrew her hand at the last moment. The strap caught the ends of her fingers and Lauren shrieked at the top of her voice. That last stroke had hurt most of all. She bent forward with both hands squeezing frantically into her stomach. She was sobbing like a baby and totally oblivious to her surroundings; she was only aware of her hands, burning with intense pain.
Mrs Wallace allowed the shaking girl a few moments to pull herself together and recover from the initial shock of the strapping. Then she dismissed her, reminding her that she was on report until the end of term and that if she got into trouble again it would mean a return visit. "And if there is a next time I won't be so lenient!" she said.
Lauren didn't think she had been lenient. Her hands felt raw and swollen and even manipulating the handle of the office door on the way out was difficult and painful.
By the time that her friends returned, undetected of course, at the end of lunchtime, Lauren had recovered more of her self-possession. She was no longer crying and had dried her eyes. Both her palms still stung like crazy and the fingers of her right hand throbbed unbearably. The other girls were very sympathetic and tried to comfort her. Caroline told her not to feel ashamed about crying. "Nearly everyone cries the first time they get beaten," she said, "I know I did!"
Lauren found it practically impossible to write that afternoon. The worst of the stinging gradually faded into a soreness and then a tingling, but the effects of the last stroke took longer to wear off. Her fingers felt as though they had swollen to the size of sausages. It was to be two full days before Lauren ceased to be aware of her painful right hand constantly reminding her that she'd been strapped.
Lauren's friends tried to get Julia into trouble, and serve her as she'd served Lauren, by getting her a thrashing. But Julia was too wary for them and survived her report period unscathed.
Two days before school broke up for the Christmas holidays it was the turn of Sue Hillard, another of Lauren's new friends, to celebrate her birthday. Once again Lauren was urged to accompany the others to the pub during the lunch-break.
"Come on," urged Sue, "Staying behind didn't do you much good last time, did it! And Chrissie's coming, and she's on report as well!" Lauren allowed herself to be persuaded. After all it was the end of term, and it was Sue's birthday. Even if they were seen, surely they would be let off.
Lauren's luck was really bad that term, and this time it affected her fellow pupils. Mrs Pringle, the Latin teacher, was passing the entrance to the pub just as the group of high-spirited schoolgirls was leaving, still chatting excitedly and giggling. Lauren and Sue were smoking cigarettes. A shocked silence fell as the girls realised they had been recognised. Mrs Pringle wrote down the names of the seven girls, confiscated the cigarettes and told them all to report to Mrs Wallace's office at breaktime that afternoon.
The headmistress gave the naughty teenagers a severe dressing-down, telling them that under-age drinking was against the law. She turned to Lauren and addressed her: "You must be a very stupid girl, Lauren Kennedy," she said. "You're still on report and I have no choice other than to give you another caning. Last time obviously wasn't effective enough."
She then asked the girls whether anyone else there, apart from Lauren was still on report. Nervously Christine admitted that she was. "Right," said Mrs Wallace, "You'll be another one finding it difficult to sit down comfortably to Christmas dinner!"
She next turned her attention to Sue. "Well, Suzanne," she said, "I understand that this was all in aid of your birthday, that you provided the cigarettes that you and Lauren were smoking, and that it was you who invited the other girls along. Is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am," Sue replied.
"Right then. You, Lauren and Christine can leave my office now. You will return after school and I will deal with the three of you then."
Christine asked Mrs Wallace to let them off, saying that it was Christmas time after all, and it was Sue's birthday. But the headmistress remained adamant and told Chrissie that if she continued to argue she would receive more strokes. So the three condemned girls left the office and returned to their classes.
As they trailed dismally down the corridor Lauren discovered that Chrissie was just as upset about getting the cane as she was herself. Christine had only ever had the cane once before and that was way back when she'd been in the second year. She had only received three strokes but she could still remember, all too clearly, just how much they had stung.
Sue, on the other hand, was one of the most often caned girls in their year. She boasted to Lauren that she'd been caned at least once in every term so far, and said that it would have been a pity if this term was an exception. She was annoyed about getting the cane on her birthday, though. "She could have let me off, the bitch! I wasn't even on report! Still, it makes a change from the bumps, I suppose!"
Lauren found out what happened to the four other girls from Caroline. She told her that Mrs Wallace had not put them on report as it was so close to the end of term and all report periods were automatically cancelled by the holidays. Instead she had told them to do 300 lines which had to be handed in to her by the end of term. Any girl who didn't do the lines to Mrs Wallace's satisfaction would get the cane.
Lauren was not able to pay much attention to her work for the rest of that afternoon and four o'clock came before she was ready. Together with Christine she made her way back to the headmistress's office. Sue was already waiting there. As soon as she saw the other two arrive she knocked gently on the door and they were told to enter.
Mrs Wallace surveyed the three miscreants standing in front of her, before reaching a final decision as to the punishments they would each receive. Surprisingly Suzanne Hillard, the birthday girl, was the only one of the three wearing full school uniform. This was not compulsory for sixth formers although it was for the rest of the school.
Sue had big blue eyes, shining apple cheeks, and just a hint of lip gloss. The small pink flowers on her bra could be seen under her white nylon blouse. Her tie was loosely knotted at her neck. She had on a grey school skirt and a pair of white knee-length socks, one of which was an inch lower than the other. Her pretty face was surmounted by a mass of bubbly blonde curls.
Christine was the tallest of the three girls, taller than Mrs Wallace in fact, but despite the absence of school uniform she somehow looked much more 'school-girlish' than Sue. Her long brown hair hung loosely around her shoulders. She wore a woolly pullover and a pair of blue denim jeans. Her large glasses somehow made her appear even more vulnerable. Behind them she looked as if she was ready to burst into tears at any moment.
Lauren was slightly slimmer than Sue and taller, at 5'4". Her black hair was neatly tied in a pony tail. She was wearing a brightly coloured T-shirt and a tight-fitting black skirt. She shivered with apprehension.
Mrs Wallace addressed Sue first: "As it is your birthday, Suzanne, and as you were not on report this time I am going to make an exception. I will give you four strokes of the cane, rather than my usual minimum of six for senior girls.
"There are no special circumstances in your case, Christine, and you will receive a full six strokes. And as for you, young lady," she said, turning to Lauren, "You are a new girl at this school, still in your first term, and yet this is the second time that you have been sent her for a beating. I was easy on you last time, but I won't make the same mistake again. I am going to give you eight strokes with the cane. And I shall do my very best to ensure that you remember this thrashing for a long time!"
Lauren felt sick; it was even worse than she had feared. Only one or two of the worst behaved sixth form girls, such as Sue, had ever had eight strokes. Now she was to join them.
Mrs Wallace turned to her cabinet and extracted a cane. Lauren bit her lip. It looked a lot more painful than the tawse she had felt on her hands.
"Come on, Suzanne," the headmistress ordered. "You're first. You know the form. Skirt up, then over my desk." Sue didn't protest. She positioned herself in front of the desk and then eased her grey skirt up revealing brief, semi-transparent, white knickers marked with the same pink flowers visible on her bra. Mrs Wallace produced a safety-pin and pinned the hem of the girl's skirt to the back of her blouse. Then Sue lowered herself across the desk, grasping the other side. The desk was old- fashioned and wide, and only the tips of Sue's toes touched the ground as she stretched out to grip the edge. Mrs Wallace lightly tapped the cane against Sue's upthrust posterior, exposed in the girl's tightly stretched thin briefs. Lauren saw Sue's bottom tense, and then the headmistress drew the cane back.
She slashed the cane down for the first time. It landed with a tremendous Thwack squarely across Sue's bottom. Her body jerked, but she made no sound and remained in position. Sue gasped sharply at each of the next two strokes, but gave no other sign of how much they must have hurt her. Mrs Wallace paused for a while before the last stroke. While she admired the girl's courage she intended to elicit a more dramatic response to the final stroke. She stepped back and delivered a really venomous cut with all her strength right across the tops of the girl's thighs where the delicate flesh was deprived even of the slight protection afforded by her skimpy knickers.
"Oh-o-o-Owwww!" Sue yelled, her resistance finally broken. Mrs Wallace regarded the quivering bottom in front of her for a few moments. A vivid weal was already springing up as a result of that last stroke and marks left by the cane's earlier visits were visible through the nearly transparent briefs. The headmistress congratulated herself mentally. Even though Suzanne had only received four strokes she would feel the effects of the caning for some time.
Mrs Wallace unpinned the girl's skirt and told her to stand up. Then Sue was told to go and stand by the wall, facing it, with her hands on her head.
"Right," said Mrs Wallace. "It's your turn now, Christine. Take down those jeans!"
Christine blushed bright red with embarrassment as she undid the zip and lowered her jeans. Her knickers were white and covered a larger area of her bottom than had Sue's. She later told Lauren that she always made a point of wearing slightly larger panties when she was on report 'just in case'. But, as she was soon to find out, it made very little difference.
She bent over the desk, where Sue had been, with her trousers down to her ankles. As Christine was taller than Sue her feet were further from the desk. Her drum-tight knickers strained to contain the full flesh of her rounded buttocks. Mrs Wallace told her to keep her knees straight and then raised the cane.
THWACKKK!
Christine squealed as the cane thudded into her vulnerable behind. It hurt much more than she remembered.
THWACKKK!
Mrs Wallace brought the second stroke down directly on top of the first. Christine's head shot up, her brown hair flying wildly, and she yelled loudly.
THWACKKK!!
The third stroke landed about an inch below the first two.
"OOOWWWH . . . AAAAAHHH!"
Mrs Wallace aimed the next stroke so that the tip of the cane fell halfway across Christine's right buttock, digging in painfully. Once again the agonised yells of the tall seventeen year old echoed round the room. She lost her grip on the desk and shot upright, clasping her sore rear with both hands. She twisted round unsteadily on her long legs and implored Mrs Wallace to let her off the rest of the punishment. Lauren saw that tears were flowing down Christine's pretty face.
But Mrs Wallace had no mercy. She ordered the girl to get back into position unless she wanted extra strokes. Tearfully, and painfully, she did so. Mrs Wallace swished the cane across the girl's calves, hard enough to elicit a surprised yelp. "Straighten those knees, girl!" she ordered.
When she was satisfied with the girl's position Mrs Wallace lashed the cane down twice in quick succession across the lower part of Chrissie's bottom, just where she would sit down.
THWACKKK!
"OOOOW . . . O-O-O . . . OWWWW!!"
THWACKKK!!
"AAARGH . . . OWWWCH!!"
Immediately the last stroke landed Chrissie shot up like a released spring and pressed both hands to her smarting behind, weeping bitterly.
Regardless of the spectacle she was making of herself the caned teenager danced in agony as she tenderly massaged her blazing posterior. The reactions of the others to this performance were varied. Mrs Wallace was amused and gratified, but Lauren was horrified. Sue, meanwhile, had remained facing the wall throughout Christine's punishment. She didn't want to give Mrs Wallace any excuse to make her already sore bottom hurt even more.
After about a minute, for Mrs Wallace felt that her right arm needed a bit of a rest, Christine was told to put her trousers back on and to go and stand next to Sue with her hands on her head. Chrissie's jeans had come off completely as she had danced about after the caning and it took her a long time to put them back on. Finally she manoeuvred the jeans over her knickers and into place and limped over to join Sue. Now it was Lauren's turn.
Mrs Wallace turned to look at the trembling girl, whose bottom had as yet never felt the cane. A new girl sent to her twice in her first term! For drinking and smoking! And after being let off with a hand caning last time! Well, this time she would not escape so lightly.
Lauren's skirt was much tighter than Sue's and Mrs Wallace told her to take it off completely. Lauren undid the skirt and stepped out of it, revealing a minuscule pair of black knickers and the a set of suspenders which held up her sheer stockings. Lauren always wore very brief panties with this particular skirt so that the shape of her bottom cheeks was clearly to be seen, without any panty-line showing. She looked more like a glamour model than a naughty sixth-former. Mrs Wallace smiled grimly, this thrashing would certainly bring the miscreant down to earth and with such skimpy knickers on show it would effectively be a bare-bottomed caning. Lauren draped her body across the desk. The other edge was still warm where Sue and Christine had gripped it, and she trembled as she saw the wet marks of Chrissie's tears on the desk.
THWACKKKK!!!
The first stroke of the cane that Lauren's bottom had ever felt was one of the hardest that Mrs Wallace had delivered that afternoon. It crashed into Lauren's tender flesh just above her thighs. Two white weals instantly formed on either side of her tiny briefs, only to be quickly suffused with vivid red. Lauren shrieked out her pain and shock, but forced herself to remain in position.
Mrs Wallace drew the cane back and raised it above her shoulders. She took two steps back and delivered the next stroke with her full power, moving forward at the same time, in order to increase its punishing intensity. As she'd intended it landed just half an inch above the first.
"OOOOWWW! NOOO!! YEOWWW!!!" Lauren howled. Her head shot up and her legs kicked wildly. "PLEASE MA'AM!" she wailed, "PLEEASE, not so hard! It hurts too much!!"
"It's meant to hurt, young lady," Mrs Wallace answered, "And it will hurt a great deal more before I've finished!"
Lauren grasped the edge of the desk more tightly, her knuckles turning white. Once again the cane lashed down on to her tender seat with all the force and skill at Mrs Wallace's disposal. The headmistress's plan of attack was becoming clear. The third stroke contacted Lauren's bottom a further half-inch above the last.
THWACKKKK!!!
Continuing the sequence the fourth stroke whipped across the crown of Lauren's haunches. The accumulation of pain was too much for Lauren. She howled in anguish and her hands left the desk and flew to her bottom. She had never known that pain like that could exist, let alone be deliberately caused as a punishment just for visiting a pub. Mrs Wallace allowed her a few moments and then told her to bend over again.
Despairingly the miserable girl did so, sobbing at the pain. As Mrs Wallace inspected the quivering bottom in front of her she mentally congratulated herself on her accuracy. Four equidistant red lines traversed the pale flesh in a narrow band less than two inches wide. She intended that the next two strokes should diagonally cross the first four to produce a 'four barred gate' effect. But to do so she felt she needed a clear view of the target area.
“Right, young lady. It’s knickers down for you now I’m afraid”
Lauren shrieked loudly as Mrs Wallace inserted her fingers into the waistband of the lacy garment and peeled it down over the burning mounds. Their vivid weals were now exposed. The Head pulled the panties down to just above the knees and tapped the inner left thigh with the tip of the cane to get poor Lauren to pull her legs apart to keep them in place.
The bare buttocks flinched at each of the next two strokes, and Lauren drummed her feet hard on the floor, but somehow she forced herself to stay in position even though it hurt like hell as the cane landed across existing weals.
"Two more to come," Mrs Wallace informed her.
She gave Lauren her last two strokes in quick succession, lashing them down, very hard, across the previously uncaned flesh of Lauren's thighs, just above her stocking-tops.
Lauren jumped up and clutched at her blazing bottom with both hands, sobbing her heart out. She was totally oblivious to everything except the searing agony in her nether regions.
"Pull your knickers up and put your skirt back on!" ordered Mrs Wallace.
Lauren did so, unsuccessfully trying to fight back her tears. As soon as her skirt was in place, the tight black material clearly revealing the shape of her swollen buttocks, she pressed her hands firmly to its back, trying to contain the intense sting.
"Hands on your head!" said Mrs Wallace severely, telling the two other caned girls to come over and stand next to Lauren in front of her desk. Then she once more lectured them on their stupidity, and told them that they had to do the same 300 lines she had given the four other girls. They were given a bit longer to do them - their lines had to be handed in at the beginning of the next term.
"Remember you all start with a clean sheet in the new term," she said, "and I don't want to punish any of you again. And as for you, Lauren Kennedy, I am very disappointed with your behaviour since you joined this school. I shall be writing to your parents with my comments and advice." She then dismissed the girls, telling them to go home directly and not loiter in the school.
Lauren found that each step sent additional waves of pain through her throbbing bottom. She could only walk by taking very short steps. As soon as they were outside the office she and Chrissie Parrish both clasped their hands to their bottoms and hopped frantically. The pain was unbelievable. Sue watched them ruefully. Her own bottom was still very sore but she was more inured to the effects of the cane, and this time she had been let off more lightly than the others. "I'm really sorry I invited you two and got you into all this," she said, "But I got my comeuppance as well! God, she was in a foul mood!"

Lauren had a miserable Christmas, unable to sit down in any comfort until the new year. She became the subject of many family jokes, and various relatives took pleasure in applying a gentle slap to her hindquarters and observing the disproportionate reaction.
But undoubtedly the worst event of the holidays for Lauren was the arrival of an unusually shaped parcel addressed to her parents. It was long and thin and, despite the colourful Christmas wrapping, Lauren knew what it must contain even before her mother drew out the headmistress's Christmas present - a senior school cane