The Caning Headmistress

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Two police officers spoke to me, one man who remained quite quiet and the main interrogator who was a woman. Was I, as one teacher had told me outright, useless beyond belief and would never make anything of myself? After all, there was the possibility that I had got the wrong end of the stick in my mind, but this was quickly blown away. I’d like to say that I learned my lesson and that was the last spanking I ever had from my mother, but that wouldn’t be the truth at all.

I had a choice, she said, I either lost my freedom and pocket money until she deemed I was back on track or I could pull down my trousers and pants and bend over the kitchen table to receive a one off short sharp shock treatment.As we arrived back in the changing rooms, the showers were to the right but Miss W, with a piece of paper in her hand, sent me left before ticking my name off and I found myself in a line consisting of those who had cheated. Mr Pelsall never used that school cliché ‘four of the best’, but there’s no doubt he’d put extra effort into the last fiendish whack. I really didn’t mind because there was no scolding, no nastiness, and no malice, and I know I’d been naughty so getting a smacked bottom was fair.

Also, surprisingly in most cases the recipient telling the story felt it was justified and deserved.Still angry, I stomped towards my classroom, dragging the charcoal along the wall as I went, when I spied the cloakroom out of the corner of my eye. I also keep with me an abiding sense of anger at what was done to me that day, and suffer strong and regular periods of depression at what was done to me at home.

I don’t even remember clearly what the detentions were for, but I certainly do remember the consequences. I can only imagine what my face must have looked like, as he looked visibly shocked when I turned round. Mr Ellis turned back to his board and, without thinking, I picked up the duster and prepared myself to throw it back. When the hands crawled round to half past two I was still chewing my pencil and doodling “I hate Miss Box” on the front of my exercise books when the door to the office was flung open, and my form teacher marched in, looking murderous. It was a run round the school and its perimeter, more than a cross country, and something I could easily achieve but didn’t want to.

Firstly, I dropped a large number of match heads inside the tin and firmly replaced the lid, then I placed the tin over a burner and ignited it. However, Miss Rosie Lee has disgraced herself so badly, and behaved so wickedly, she thoroughly deserves to have her bottom soundly spanked in public.