A firm believer
As 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? It was to be her first caning and the dread of the unknown
would be occupying her mind. 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. She
would know, of course, that it was to be on her bottom and she
probably knew from dormitory gossip how she would be made to bend
over to offer her target area! 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 and the residual discomfort
should subside by tea time. The memory, however, would not. She
laid the cane on her desk where the girl would see it on entering
the study. She turned away and put on her academic cap and gown
which, she always felt, added solemnity to these occasions. All was
ready! As she turned to the door to collect the culprit 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 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 one to
which Amelia (and, for what it’s worth, I, after all I should know,
I tried both as a boy) 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
she opened the door the girl looked up at her in startled alarm.
Clearly she knew it was now! 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. Bless her, thought Mrs. Anstruther
“Come in, my dear, it’s time."
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. There, on the desk, lay the cane!
“Oh, no!” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the fearsome implement.
She would have liked to look away but she could not. She was
totally fascinated with it. She cupped her hands over her bottom.
“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!
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 of the cane.
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.
want you to take your knickers down and bend over with your hands on
the seat of this chair. Do you understand?”
Oh, yes, she understood only too well!
One of the most intriguing things about the awarding of a smacked
bottom, she always thought, was the way the one about to be punished
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 a boy lying on his bed to
“take down your pyjamas and turn over so that I may get at you!”
Her boy had meekly unfastened his pyjama trousers, turned onto his
face, reached round to slip his ‘pijams’ down and settled, 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 happens, public hand smacking. Whether
it be the standard school command “Bend over!” they invariably
obeyed and offered their bottom, usually bare of course, 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 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 with dread. Amelia approached her and
heard the panicky panting of her breathing. Delicately she lifted
the hem of her skirt and lifted it up and onto her back. Then she
did the same for the girl’s underskirt. 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 agonised sob burst from behind the veil of long,
raven black hair
“I’m sorry, Miss” whispered a tragic little voice!
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”
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
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,
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!
“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.
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.
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
“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
“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!