I remember it well. There were about 50 boys of 10 or 11 years of age in my class and the teacher, Miss Clarke, a woman in her late fifties, unmarried, and I assume looking back on it, unloved, was giving us some form of test. We had each been given a sheet of ruled paper and told to write the numbers one to one hundred down one side. We were told that any mistakes would result in a caning. I had been a pupil at this school for four years and had seen many of my fellow pupils caned and strapped. Some had received it on their bottoms and some on their hands, but I was not as mischevous as most and beatings were something which happened to others. I don’t think I took much notice of the threat of ‘the cane’ as it ‘obviously’ didn’t apply to me. I recall checking through my list of numbers and realising that I had missed one out. I remember putting my hand up and announcing to Miss Clark that I had made a mistake.

‘Come out here’ she said in a frosty voice, picking up her crook handled forty inch whippy cane from her desk where she had placed it having caned my friend Charlie twice across each hand some fifteen minutes previously.

I remember staring at her in a state of shock. I had never been beaten at school or at home. I just froze at my desk as the world stopped around me and held it’s breath.

‘I’m waiting’ she said, swishing the cane through the air, ‘Get up here and get up here fast’.

I stumbled up to the front of the class and listened in disbelief to the instruction to me to hold out my right hand.

She gave me two excrutiatingly painful cuts across my right palm and two more across my left one……………………………………………….

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Some six years later, I was coming to the end of my schooldays at the Grammar School which I had attended since the age of eleven having passed the Entrance Examination during my time in Miss Clark’s class. It was games afternoon and three of us were out on a ‘Cross Country’ run which brought us back to the school through a housing estate, having run through some local woods and fields. All three of us had been in Miss Clark’s class at our former school and we had all been beaten by her, for very minor offences. As we jogged along on our way back to school, we saw a face from our pasts get out of a car on a driveway and, carrying shopping, walk up to the front door and pass inside.

MIss Clark had been the most hated teacher at that school and was someone we had all talked about since our days there. There was no hesitation; we all turned in at the gate and walked up to the door.

When we’d last seen this woman, we were all small boys and she had terrified us as she towered above us, usually waving a cane in our direction. We were all now, somewhat different, being strong guys in our mid teens and it was payback time.

She appeared from the kitchen as we walked through the hall. I could tell that after a few seconds of astonishment at our entry into her house and a brief moment of fear, she recognised all three of us although it had been so long since she’d seen any of us. Perhaps it was because, as at our last encounter we were all wearing shorts, even though these were of the sports variety and not the grey flannel of our junior school days.

‘Good Afternoon, Miss Clark’ said Charlie, for he was one of the three, ‘I think you know us’.

‘Yes indeed’ she said with a slight smile on her face, ‘although it must be about five years since I last saw any of you.’

‘Six’, said Pete who had also suffered at this woman’s hands.

‘And you, RIchard’ , she said, turning to me with a somewhat cynical smile on her face, ‘You’re very quiet, what have you to say for yourself?

‘I suppose you’ve retired now Edith’ I said in a tone which surprised her and my companions, ‘Otherwise at this time of the day, you’d be in your classroom frightening the life out of another lot of kids, wouldn’t you?’

‘You wouldn’t have dared speak to me like that when we last met’ she said.

‘Fucking right Edith you fucking cow’ I replied, ‘but this is NOW, not then, and I’ll speak to you in any way I fucking want to!’

‘How dare you talk to me like that, I’m going to phone your school and speak to your Headmaster and he’ll beat you so hard that you won’t be able to sit down for a month, when you get back to school’ she said defiantly.

‘Oh no you won’t’ I said prodding her in the chest, ‘because we know where you live now, and what’s more, we know that you’re still the same viscious bastard you were when we were all in your class, and if we get any trouble from you we’ll be back with all our mates who also had the pleasure of knowing you in the past.

She gave this some thought and for the first time since our entrance looked worried. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

‘Revenge’ I said simply.

I told Pete and Charlie to hold her and went out into the garden where I seen a greenhouse and soon found what I was looking for; a couple of long garden canes which I took back into the house. When I came back into the kitchen, and she saw what I had fetched she struggled violently but Pete and Charlie were both ‘Forwards’ in the first XV (Rugby Union Team) and were much too strong for Miss Clark, these days. I was a Rugby winger and also a fast bowler in the First XI (Cricket) and I wasn’t going to put up with anything from her either!

The guys dragged her into the sitting room and pulled her over the arm of the sofa and held her there. I turned the TV on and turned the volume up, closed the curtains and went back to the front door and locked it.

I came back to the sitting room and saw my former teacher’s rather large bottom stretched over the arm of the sofa with her skirt stretched tightly over it. The hem had risen half way up her thighs and I could see the outline of her knickers under the taut material. As she struggled and thrashed her legs about, her skirt rode higher so that I could see the tops of her stockings and the bare flesh beyond them. I confess that to my amazement, I began to get a little excited by this.

I had always remembered her wearing severe horn rimmed spectacles and I suddenly saw a pair on a coffee table, so I reached over and pushed them onto her face.It really brought it all back for all of us. I told the guys to hold her and went upstairs, looking for her bedroom. She screamed at me to come down, but of course it did her no good at all. I picked up a large wooden hair brush from her dressing table and took a broad black leather belt from her wardrobe. I also noticed a pair of fluffy leather soled slippers by the bed, so took those down as well. Back in the sitting room, I dropped my booty on the floor in front of her. We were ready.

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I walked behind her and placed the palm of my right hand on the swell of her right buttock. She flinched as I moved it slowly and struggled as I drew it back. She more than flinched when I spanked her hard where my hand had recently rested. Pete and Charlie had difficulty holding her shoulders down as I spanked her on alternate cheeks for a couple of minutes or so. When I went to look at her face, it was an angry crimson and her glasses had fallen off. I replaced them. I looked straight into her face as I picked up one of her leather soled slippers and saw a strange look come into her eyes. Not exactly fear, but something more subtle which I couldn’t understand. I picked up the other slipper as well and walked back to my position behind her.

Without warning I hit her hard on that same buttock where the hand spanking had begun. She spasmed upwards from the arm of the sofa. With the other slipper in the othger hand I hit the other buttock even harder and then alternating I gave her a dozen very hard cracks which seh tried to avoid but the lads holding her were too strong. At the finish, she was breathing very hard as was I. Pete and Charlie seemed a little out of breath as well. I told them to haul her upright and pulled her suit jacket up I reached for the fastenings of her skirt and accompanied by a storm of protests, undid them and dragged it down to her ankles. She stood there in white satin knickers, suspenders and black sheer stockings. Her arse cheeks where visible and the backs of her thighs contrasted nicely in their dull flushed crimson with the white satin and the black nylon. I ordered her baqck into position and down she went!

I asked Pete to hand me the hairbrush and noticed he had difficulty stooping down to pick it up from the floor. As we were all wearing running shorts I could clearly see his massive erection. Glancing at Charlie I could see that he was also considerably aroused. I was already aware of my own hard on! I asked the guys whether they’d like to take over but they said I was doing fine. I took the hair brush and having carefully smoothed her knickers out, gave her a full bloodied crack across the centre of her bottom. She screamed and tried to reach behind and rub herself. Her hands were dragged back. I gave her a dozen across the backs of her thighs, almost down as far as the backs of her knees. After a couple of these, I pulled her legs apart and finding that she didn’t seem to care much at this stage, I kept doing this so that at the end of the dozen, her thighs were wide open. The crotch of her knickers seemed to be wet. I thought that she must have pissed herself with the pain. I didn’t much care. I pulled her knickers to her knees. She didn’t resist. Her thighs, bottom and lower back were massively bruised and swollen. Her bottom had been big when we started but now it seemed to be twice the size and you could FEEL the heat coming from the swollen, bruised and blood speckled flesh. She was soaking wet between the legs and it didn’t feel or smell like wee. In fact when I caught her there with my finger, it seemed to be sticky and she not only shuddered, she gave a little soft moaning sound. I picked up the belt and gave her half a dozen across the bare bottom and she just lay there and took it.

I told Pete and Charlie to pull her to her feet and pulled the sofa into the middle of the room. I indicated that they should pull our former tormentor over the back of it and hold her arms from the front. They each knelt on the seat squabs and held her so that she was bending over the sofa back. I stood in front of her with one of the garden canes and held her face up by the hair as I sliced the four foot stick through the air. I went behind her again and pulled her legs apart as wide as I could get them. She made no attempt at resistance. I swished the cane through the air a few times before stroking her bottom with it. She did flinch at the cane’s touch.

I tapped her across the centre of her buttocks, drew back my arm and hit her as hard as I could across both cheeks. The flesh flattenened momentarirly and immediately afterwards she drew a massive breath inwards. The second stroke landed ten seconds later an inch below the first, just as the first transformed itself into from a white bloodless line into an angry red, ridged welt. She bit her lip hard to stop herself from crying out and her bottom dipped down before coming up to the target area again. ‘You’ll scream before I’ve finished Edith’ I told her pleasantly, but answer there came none. The third was the hardest so far! It caught her as I intended, across the first two and the stick came off her bottom, bloody.

She screamed!

The next three caught her just on the buttock over hang and across the top of the thighs. Each one brought a high pitched yell from the woman and the cane splintered as the sixth landed.

I hauled her upright and ripped off her top and bra so that she stood there in her suspender belt and nylons only, her knickers having long since fallen to her ankles. She looked at me in fear as I picked up the second cane and tried to back up to the wall.

‘Nearly finished Teacher’ I told her….. ‘Hold out your right hand’
‘Oh please no’, she pleaded.
‘When did YOU ever take any notice of our misery…… hold your fucking hand out woman! I gave her three hard strokes on each hand one of which made her scream as she half pulled her hand back so the stick caught her finger tips. I invited the others to cane her as well but they seemed to be in awe of the situation so I gave her another three on each hand for them and dropped the bamboo on the carpet.

‘Pick it up’ I ordered, but she couldn’t as her fingers were so swollen. ‘PICK IT UP’ I said sternly, ‘Remember those days when we were little kids, you caned our hands and then made us write lines and if we couldn’t write legibly, you’d cane us again. She fumbled and dropped it. ‘If you don’t pick it up I’m going to cane your backside again’ She picked it up and placed it on the table.

‘ We’re going now Edith’ I told her, ‘Its been a lovely afternoon seeing you again’. ………Silence………….. ‘We must do it again sometime’ …………… more Silence.

We left to the sound of the key turning in the front door lock behind us.

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REVENGE IS SWEET!!!

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