A s the Head Mistress prepared for the solemn ritual to come she smiled to herself thinking of the miserable girl sitting outside her study door. It was a kindly smile, she sympathised with the poor lass! The short sharp shock she was about to receive would make her disinclined to sit upon her pretty little bottom for a while but it would do her good! Such a blatant disregard for school rules warranted nothing less than the cane and the cane, she must know, was what she was going to get. Three, the Head thought, should be enough for this first visit, and might just persuade her not to risk any further visits. Very few girls came back for more! What, wondered the Head, would be going through that pretty head as she awaited the summons? Fear, of course, and remorse but mainly dread of the unknown! How would a school caning feel? How would it be done? Where did you bend over, she knew from schoolgirl gossip that you had to bend over! She knew it would be on her pretty bottom! Would she have to take her knickers down? Would it hurt much? Soon she would know! Yes, the Head sympathised with her but that would not diminish the shock of that very first stroke of rattan cane on that part of the anatomy provided by the Almighty for the correction of silly girls. The waiting would do her good too!

The Head opened her cupboard and selected a ‘beginner’s cane’! Light and whippy it would deliver stinging strokes to the girl’s bottom and would leave nice little purple marks on each smooth and tender cheek but the pain would be mild compared to that delivered by the heavier, more ‘senior’ canes.. But it would hurt, that was what it was for, it would hurt that waiting bottom! The residual discomfort should subside by tea time, the memory, however, would not. She laid the cane on her desk and turned away to put on her academic cap and gown which, she felt, added solemnity to these occasions. All was ready! She picked up the cane and, as she turned to the door, her mind went back over those many years during which she had become and remained ‘a firm believer’ in the smacked bottom..

Mrs. Amelia Anstruther, the Head Mistress, was a mother of two, one girl and one boy. She had made good progress in her chosen profession and had been offered her appointment as Head of this prestigious boarding school at the age of 35. She was no birch wielding harridan but an attractive professional woman with, as we have seen, a firm belief in the efficacy of the smacked bottom. She had a genuine, but far from prurient, interest in the sanction in all its forms and a real fascination with the attitude of those whose bottoms she had smacked over the years. Almost without exception they had accepted her right to exercise this most personal form of punishment with a total lack of resentment. This acceptance allowed her to chastise them with their cooperation! Most interesting.

Another firm belief of hers, and one to which this writer fully subscribes, was that this punishment should be applied exclusively by the female, whether in the domestic or scholastic environment. At home it had been her duty rather than that of her husband and at school there was no alternative to feminine discipline. I know this philosophy is anathema to many members of this website but it was one to which Amelia remained totally wedded! She felt certain that boys accepted feminine discipline with equanimity much as their bottoms might smart whilst receiving it. It seemed natural to them for women to so punish them.. So far as girls were concerned she simply found the idea of men punishing girls quite offensive. (Boudoir games were a separate issue!)

The Head, as we have seen, took a healthy interest in corporal punishment and perhaps never more than when the one to be punished was, if you’ll pardon the expression, a virgin. The young lady waiting without may well have been over mummie’s knee at home but this was to be her very first taste of the cane, how would she behave? With a gentle smile the Head turned to the door – it was time!

As she opened the door the girl looked up at her in startled alarm. Clearly she knew it was time! Her pretty face was pale and wan, with an expression of anxious expectation. She shifted her poor bottom on the hard chair on which she sat waiting. She was fighting back tears and, as her eyes fell upon the cane in the Head’s hand, she murmured “Oh, no!”. Bless her, thought Mrs. Anstruther.

“Come in, my dear.” Her voice was firm but not hectoring.

The girl bravely stood up, swaying slightly on her feet, and made her way towards that dreadful door which the Head Mistress held open for her.

“Now” said Amelia “You have been a very silly girl, haven’t you? And you must be punished. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, miss” clutching her bottom!

Amelia decided to overlook the ‘miss’. Protocol demanded the girls address her as ‘Head Mistress’ but she was humane enough to accept that this wretched girl had other things on her mind!

“I am bound to wonder whether you have anything to say for yourself? Leaving school premises alone and without permission is a clear and blatant breach of school rules. Those rules were drawn up in the best interests of our girls and with the total support of their parents. I am at a loss to understand what got into you. Well, what have you to say for yourself?”

Mrs. Anstruther felt sure that what had happened was a ‘dare’ set by one of the other girls or, and she did not like the thought, an instance of bullying by a senior girl. While the latter possibility, if known, would certainly spare that tender bottom its forthcoming beating, without that knowledge it would not be spared. She did not expect the girl to breach the schoolgirls’ code scared though she clearly was at the prospect of a caning.

As the girl silently hung her head Amelia sighed.

“Well my dear you leave me no option. For such a blatant breach of the rules I shall cane you!”

The girl, her eyes fixed on the cane, swayed on her feet at the sound of those words.

“Yes, miss” whispered!

“Very well.” and she turned to prepare the last piece of scene setting. She took the chair from by her desk and placed it ominously by the girl.

“Take your blazer off.” The girl clearly understood the significance of that instruction, Her blazer would get in the way of the cane! She obeyed and looked around vaguely for somewhere to put it.

“Put it on my desk. Now! Pull your knickers down and bend over with your hands on the chair seat. Do you understand?”

Oh yes, she understood only too well!

One of the most intriguing things about the awarding of a smacked bottom, the Head always thought, was the way the culprit invariably complied with instructions issued in preparation for their punishment. Whether it be, as had been the case with her son just a few weeks back, an instruction for the boy to “take down your trousers and lie across my knee,” her boy had meekly unfastened his trousers and placed himself over her waiting lap, settling down, head on folded arms, to be smacked. Whether it be, as with her daughter quite recently, “Pull up your skirt and lower your knickers!”. She had obeyed and stood, skirts bundled under her arms and fingers still within the waist band of her knickers, offering her plump bottom for a good, and as it happened, public hand smacking. The standard school command, “Bend over!” was invariably obeyed and a girl’s bottom, usually bare of course, offered for punishment. This girl would obey too. She did, choking back her scared whimpering, as she did so.

Amelia watched as the girl hoisted her skirt and reached round to slip her hands into her knickers. They were white, by the way in case any knickers fetishist wants to know, white with a pink floral design and a sweet little pink bow over each hip looking rather as if they had a practical purpose rather than just decoration. Certainly not school uniform knickers but Amelia knew no self respecting girl would wear those dreadful passion-killers if she could avoid it. Pale faced and visibly trembling the girl pulled her knickers down. She let her skirt fall back into place and stood, hands clasped before her, staring at the cane!

Amelia turned to her desk and, watched earnestly by the girl, picked up the cane.

“Right then, you silly girl, bend over!”

They say that “Take down your trousers” are the most dreadful words a boy can hear in the disciplinary arena, maybe, but “Bend over” is an equally dreadful command whether addressed to girl or boy.

She obeyed! Of course she obeyed and for the first time in her life she assumed the position designed to best present the bottom for caning. She was shivering now and audibly whimpering with fright. Amelia approached her and heard the panicky panting of her breathing. Delicately she lifted the hem of her skirt up and onto her back. Then she did the same for the girl’s frilly petticoat. She stood back and looked at her target! A slim, almost boyish bottom, creamy white buttocks clenched tightly together so that the divide between them appeared pencil thin. An agonized sob burst from behind the veil of long, raven black hair!

“I’m sorry, Miss” whispered a tragic little voice!

“I shall give you three” said Amelia “Maybe you deserve the maximum of six for such a blatant breach of the rules but I’m going to give you three. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss” whispered the little voice. “Thank you, Miss”

“Ready?”

A gulping, choking, frightened little sob.

“Please, Miss!” it wailed.

“Don’t be silly. Too late for that! Three strokes of the cane, then, and I hope I never have to see that bottom again. Now, keep still, legs together, knees straight! Ready?”

The poor girl uttered a moan that could just have been meant as assent!

Amelia tapped her cane lightly on the bottom before her. Smooth and pale, it trembled at the touch and another frightened moan emerged from the veil of hair.

Quick as a flash Amelia’s cane was drawn back then, Swish, TWHACK!

The cane, delivered briskly by an expert, bit into that sweet bottom leaving a livid red stripe across both cheeks at their fullest part. Not too hard, it was not meant to be hard, it was well positioned and Amelia was well pleased.

“One!” said Amelia. The girl shrieked no doubt shocked by her very first feel of the rod upon her bare bottom. She remained bent over offering those trim buttocks for number 2!

Swish, TWHACK!!

“Two” intoned the Head. Her aim was perfect, professional, faultless and a second stripe flushed alongside the first, parallel and very, very close.

The girl’s bottom flinched this time but she stayed bending over. She was behaving immaculately. She tightened her legs projecting the little bottom proudly and bravely to receive the third stroke.

Swish, TWHACK!!!

The girl seemed to lift first one foot then the other from the ground easing her bottom but, as the third stripe blossomed alongside the others, she remained in position.

Amelia stepped over to her and gently pulled the floral knickers back up to conceal the shame of a caned bottom.

“Good girl!” she said “Stand up, please”

The girl very carefully straightened up. She reached her hands round and cupped her tender rump in her hands!

“Will you shake my hand?”

Raising her flushed face the dear girl did so unhesitatingly.

“I deserved that, Head Mistress.” she said “I’m sorry.”

“Did it hurt much?”

“Of course!” the girl grinned bravely and Amelia was tempted to hug her!

“Well, never ever give me cause to beat you again. Do you understand? Never, because if you do it will be my heavy cane, it will be six and it will be very hard. Now, off you go and show your stripes to your pals!”

Amelia smiled as she watched the girl walk with some care to the door. She opened it and turned to smile an enigmatic smile at the Head Mistress.

“Thank you, Miss” she said, impishly, and went out.

Amelia replaced the chair and put the cane back in its cupboard.

That had gone well. Amelia was pleased with the professional way in which she had delivered that mild caning and proud of the way the girl had taken it. She’d not be back, thought Amelia, silly girl!