It has just dawned on me looking at the literary efforts of my alter ego Ricardo that he has told you five stories so far. Well, traditionally, six is a significant figure in these circumstances and I thought it would round things off nicely if I completed the half dozen myself. Two titles immediately came to mind. This one and ‘Now we are Six’ but there was no competition really; was there?

Let me introduce myself. My name is Rachael and I was a Grammar School pupil in the days before an over protective educational system and equally interfering European political system deemed it unhealthy for teenagers of either sex to be subjected to corporal punishment. In my schooldays we expected to run the gauntlet on occasion with authority so to speak, and if sometimes we were caught out, and had to suffer the consequences?………..Well, that was an acceptable risk that one took.

My school was a ‘single sex’ establishment which was a bit of a bore really, and as we approached the senior forms we often fantasized amongst ourselves about being at a school with boys. But single sex schools were more common in those days, than they are in these enlightened times and I suppose it would have made disciplinary matters more difficult had there been members of the opposite sex at school.

I was eleven years old when I started at ‘The High School’ and stayed there until I was between the ages of eighteen and nineteen. Our uniform in the first five years consisted of a dark green pleated skirt and blazer, white shirt and two tone green tie in diagonal stripes. Sensible shoes (black) and white cotton socks completed the visible uniform. In the sixth form we were allowed to wear nylon stockings. We were expected to wear dark green knickers throughout our school lives but frequently as we grew older we became more daring in our choice of underwear!

Quite minor misdeeds, when found out, were punished with corporal punishment. This was given by the mistresses (especially the Headmistress and her deputy) and also by the prefects. The latter were only allowed to use a ‘slipper’ which was a well worn gym shoe and always given on the bottom, but teachers beat us with slippers and canes (or straps according to personal preference) on our bottoms and canes on our hands and bottoms. The cane was always referred to as ‘The Stick’. We were usually punished in front of our classmates, but sometimes were taken out into the corridor where the mistress could get a better swing. I can still remember the excitement I felt when someone was taken outside and we all heard the command to bend over given and then the sound of the stick (usually) making connection with someone’s rear end and the sounds of complaint which usually swiftly followed. I think we all were affected by these beatings to others but I remember how I used to dig my nails into the palms of my hands and clench my thighs and as I arrived at my teenaged years how I used to find a damp patch in the gusset of my knickers after these events.

Really serious offenses resulted in being sent to the Head or Deputy Head or even in a beating being given in front of the entire school. These last punishments were really terrifying events and in all my school days I only saw one. A girl in the fifth form had attacked a classmate with a craft knife because she had dated her boyfriend. The attack took place outside school but was dealt with inside it. The whole school was assembled and the girl was marched up onto the stage. The Head Mistress in her full academicals, an awesome sight, told us of the terrible events which had taken place outside the school gates, the previous afternoon. The victim, luckily had escaped permanent scarring and her parents had most generously declined to insist that the police were involved providing that the girl who had attacked their daughter was severely thrashed.

The girl stood there, white faced, between two mistresses and a school chair was brought onto the platform by a prefect. The girl was ordered to bend over and place her hands on the seat of the chair. Her skirt was raised and pulled up over her back. Her knickers were pulled down to her knees. In this position, the HM told her how lucky she was that she was being allowed to remain at the school and wasn’t at that moment at the police station. She was also informed that her victim’s parents were at the back of the hall to see justice carried out. One of the mistresses was holding the HM’s cane, a fearsome device some three feet in length of supple yellow rattan. She handed it to the HM who flexed it in front of the ashen faced girl and the sliced it through the air causing her to flinch and clench her buttocks. The sentence of twelve strokes was given and from where I sat I could see her knuckles whiten as she gripped the edge of the chair seat. The HM with a face like stone moved behind the girl and placed the stick across the centre of the flinching bottom in front of her.

I’ve been caned on my hands and on my bottom. I’ve been caned over the seat of my skirt and across my knickers. I’ve even been caned on my bare bottom in the HM’s study. I’ve also had the strap on my bottom and thighs and been slippered so many times I’ve lost count, but even at this distance in time I break into a sweat thinking about that caning and when I’ve finished writing this I’ll probably have to give myself some sort of relief because I’m starting to get wet already.

Usually, in classroom, corridor or HM study beatings, six strokes were given in about 15 seconds. Although the stick landed with a painful ‘THWACK!’ the stroke would only travel some two or three feet to it’s target. The victim would gasp and jerk forward at each impact; she might flex her knees a little and after it was over all but the most stoical (in which category I most definitely don’t place myself!) would have voiced some sort of protest or usually would have been in tears. With this thrashing the strokes were given at about five seconds intervals and were given from shoulder height with the full force of
the HM’s arm (and she was a keen tennis player!). There was no response to the first stroke, but the second produced a whimper and the third a shriek. Contrary to what you may have read or seen in erotic photographs, there was no pausing to rub or feel the generated heat by the girl and certainly not by the Head. If the girl had put her hands in the way the beating would just have continued. After six strokes the girl was crying out loud; after twelve strokes she seemed stunned and her bottom had taken on the appearence of a tomato under the grille with red weals and welts mostly across the centre but ranging from the top of her rump down to the overhang of her thighs.

During the onslaught, there was not a sound in the hall aside from the swishing of the cane through the air and the THWACCCCK of the connecting stroke together with the yelps and screams of the victim.

Afterwards, there was a stunned silence in the hall. Some girls were themselves in tears. The HM stood back so that the school could see the beaten bottom without obstruction. The Head Girl, visibly shaken and white faced came forward with the punishment book and the HM entered the details, and handed it back. Thankfully, the Head Girl scurried off the platform, pausing only momentarily to look at the thrashed bottom. The HM placed her hand on the victim’s shoulder and told her to stand up when she felt able to do so. After about a minute the girl slowly unbent herself and painfully started to pull her knickers up and her skirt down. The HM told her to leave the stage and she turned and walk stiff leggedly down into the hall and out towards the toilets.

The HM dismissed the school and went to speak to the parents who had witnessed the punishment.

I remember that I had to relieve myself in every sense of the word and in this I was not alone. As I’ve said, even now it dampens my gusset!

Well, I didn’t intend to ramble on like this and if I put pen to paper again, I will tell you of some of my own personal experiences. After all I have enough material to draw on! 😉