Heartbreakingly Paula
The debris left from the incident with Claire Furnham and Sandra Furlong in the Easter term did not go away completely once school had broken up for the holiday. Firstly, as she had said she would Miss Cleverly enclosed a letter with their end of term report to both Sandra’s and Claire’s parents setting out their daughter’s behaviour and subsequent punishment. As their stand-in housemaster I was expected to read and countersign these letters, so I got the chance to se what had been sent home.
It has to be said that Alice Cleverly did not mince her words, particularly in her comments regarding Sandra’s behaviour. It was also the case that Miss Cleverly had inserted my name as contact for both sets of parents. She was to be away for most of the two week holiday and Miss Ogilvy was in no state at this stage of her treatment to be dealing with parents. As Alice said to me herself “Simon, you were involved from start to finish, you saw exactly what happened. You are the best person to deal with this.”
And so it was. The reports were at that time posted the same day pupils left. However, on this occasion both girls had told their parents the bare bones of what had happened and both of the girl’s mothers rang and left messages while I was supervising the house leaving arrangements. As Claire’s mother had sounded the more distressed of the two I decided to ring her first.
Of course you never know what is going to happen in the circumstances but at least I felt this was not entirely cold calling as I dialled the number. It was Mrs Furnham who picked up the phone and after I had explained who I was she was both very apologetic about what her daughter had done as well as very effusive in her support for the consequences.
“Of course she deserved the caning Miss Cleverly gave her” she said, without any prompting from me. “I am pleased she was punished properly by school. You can rely on me to make sure that she gets a repeat dose as soon as she gets back here. In my view she is lucky the school did not consider expulsion. Just remind me”, she asked “how many strokes did she get?”
“Six across her knickers”, I replied and would have said more, except she interrupted me.
“I have responsibility for both our daughter’s discipline here at home”, she interjected “and in my view, as her mother, she actually got off quite lightly. I am an old Silverdene girl you may know, Mr Lunt, and I can tell you if I had done that in my day I would have been out on my ear. And across my father’s study chair with my pants down before you could say anything. My father used a riding crop on me several times when I came home with a bad end of term report. Life was tougher in those days, just as Claire is about to find out.”
Before I could add anything further she continued “I use the belt on both of my girls. I feel more comfortable with that and it’s very effective. Unlike her younger sister, Lucy, it’s unusual for Claire to need a good thrashing, but on this occasion I know I have no choice. She will not sit down for at least a week when I’ve finished with her I can tell you; truancy, smoking and all the bother she caused you. I am so sorry”, she said again sounding very similar to her daughter.
“Thanks Mrs Furnham”, I said “but just tell me should I know your other daughter?”
“Not yet”, she laughed “but I am sure you will come the new September term. She is a handful. Just keep her on the straight and narrow. I have every confidence in you. I am sure she will settle down when you show her who the boss is."
"Thanks Mrs Furnham”, I repeated.
“That’s fine,” she responded, “just leave Claire with me. I will see that she realises home has to support school. Goodbye now.”
The conversation with Sandra Furlong’s parents was not a great deal different in both tone and direction from that I had just had with Mrs Furnham. Although Mrs Furlong answered the phone and quickly apologised for her daughter’s behaviour, it was her father who I was passed on to. It turned out that I was speaking to Commander Furlong. He largely led the conversation.
“I’ve read Miss Cleverly’s letter”, he said. “From what I can gather Miss Sandra stole some cigarettes, played truant with another girl during afternoon school and was caught smoking them behind the games pavilion. As a naval man I know that these were enormously bad tactics to employ and for nothing else she deserved a good rattle with the cane.”
I wasn’t sure how to take this language and as a result was a little nonplussed.
“Like my wife I must apologise for all the trouble she caused you and Miss Cleverly” he continued. “We are waiting now at this minute for her return and I can tell you we both so incensed by what has happened, and taking into account the punishment school gave her, Sandra will be straight up those stairs to her room. I can also tell you there will be no treats this holiday for her and that she will be doing enforced ‘O’ level revision with tests from my wife and me every other day. And woe betide her”, he added “if she is not up to scratch in these tests. I can tell you she will get a very warm arse every time she is deemed to have failed. Leave it with us my boy” he added. “Thank you for ringing us”, he continued as he put the phone down.
'Well', I thought 'I wonder?'
As it turned out both girls returned to school after the holiday and not much about them was heard again. They were both summer leavers and at the House leavers do Claire apologised yet again for what she had done.
“My mother said I had to apologise again to you”, she explained. "I got thrashed twice during the Easter holiday you know; once by my mother at the beginning and then again by my father the day before we came back."
At least in Claire’s case this form of reinforcement seemed to have a beneficial effect on her schoolwork. To all our surprise she ended up third in 5B that term, considerably higher than ever before and to cap it all she passed six ‘O’ levels at grade C including Domestic Science! I was so pleased for her.
Sandra Furnham had already been to see me at the beginning of term with a letter of apology which she had written during the holiday. It was, I thought, honest and in places even heartfelt. I explained that I had had a conversation with both her father and mother who had also apologised to me; adding that I thought we should now say nothing more about the incident.
Sandra looked at me ruefully and said “Yes, but I’m truly sorry sir. You have no idea what my mother and father did to me as a result of my stupidity. I’m used to being caned, it happens regularly at home you know sir.”
“So I understand”, was the only response I could think of.
“I was thrashed with my father’s strap for the incident here as soon as I got home” she added. “And my mother used her leather backed slipper on me the very next day. They set me work to do every day and when I failed I was thrashed again.”
This arrangement of tests and punishment for slack work was also continued at half term too. I asked Sandra on her return to school for no apparent reason beyond curiosity if she had had a nice half term.
“No sir”, she said ruefully. ”I was caned by my mum twice during the holiday but that was because I kept failing my tests.”
“Crikey!” I said.
“I can show you if you don’t believe me”, she had said, whipping up her summer dress and revealing a very red pair of thighs. “After all you’ve already seen my completely bare bottom before, sir.”
“Crikey!” I said again “but put your dress down. That is quite enough, thank you.”
I don’t know what happened to Sandra at half-term but she was the model pupil throughout the summer term and I often caught her revising for her exams at the most unusual times of day. It was as if she had become obsessed. However, like Claire she did well in her class work, rising to top of the form on her report – a point noted by Miss Cleverly in her comments. Sandra, remarkably passed all her ‘O’ levels and I know eventually went on to university. She now lectures in criminal psychology, regularly appears on TV and in the media and is a very active member of thee Old Silverdene Society. Crikey indeed!
Despite dealing with these leftovers from the Easter Term, the Summer Term was as gentle and as easy to manage as the previous one. None of the first year boys gave anyone any trouble and the girls in the boarding house were made seemingly inert by their exam revision and soporific by the sunshine of a hot, early summer. With little or no change in my colleague’s condition I continued to act as stand-in Head of House. I enjoyed the work; the chat with the girls and particularly my teaching, which I felt was beginning to improve somewhat.
At this time in the late 1960s secondary schools did not allow pupils to leave earlier than the last day of term in late July, Exam revision was largely classroom based and there was a whole series of post-exam activities for fifth and upper sixth form girls who had completed their exams. There was a certain light heartedness around all of the school towards the middle of July but sports day, speech day and inter-form and inter-school activities usually kept any high jinx to a minimum.
Nevertheless, it was one of these events, a Friday night inter-school dance with boys from relatively local public school and the surprising activities of two upper sixth form girls, Paula Wood and Caroline Hill, that caused me a major problem as well as a great deal of personal heartache. This dance had become a regular feature of the school calendar during the last few years with, each alternate year, the other school hosting the event. This year it was the boy’s school turn, with our sixth formers being to be bussed to their school. While the lower sixth girls were largely accommodating towards the event the upper sixth girls were generally very reluctant to attend, often arguing vehemently that boys of their age, even from a public school, were beneath them. Some of course had boyfriends of their own by then but out of public spiritness, a sense of collective solidarity and despite some other misgivings all of the sixth formers and three hardy female members of staff boarded the bus on the last Friday evening of term.
The venture to the dance ‘fixture’ was nothing to do with me and it was my intention to spend a quiet evening watching TV, which is what I was doing when at sometime after ten thirty there was an insistent knock on my door. It was Margaret Cole, another house mistress and today because Miss Cleverly was at a conference she was the senior member of staff in the school. Margaret was characterised by her prissiness and her fussiness for detail and her need to feel secure. Her world stopped at the school boundary. She felt tidiness was a virtue, perhaps the virtue and ran her house and classroom on these lines, with everything having a place and everything in its place. To her if the little things were right the big ones would take care of themselves. As I invited her in I noticed that even for her she was looking somewhat flustered.
It was clear looking at her that things were far from right. Before she sat down and I had time to ask her if she wanted a drink or anything she was off at a hundred miles an hour.
“Oh Simon”, she said “the most awful thing has happened. Mrs Hay has rung from the dance to say two of our girls are drunk and that she cannot bring them back on the bus. I’ve only come here because one of the girls is mine and the other yours and I though you ought to know. I’m not sure what to do; it is all so awful!”
I agreed with her from both a personal and a professional point of view, although what we should do was clearly set out in the school rules.
“Who are the girls we are talking about?” I asked her.
“Caroline Hill from my house and Paula Wood from yours”, she said.
I knew both girls quite well and Paula was in my A level history class. My immediate thought was at least one problem was solved. Both girls were over the age of eighteen and would not need to be expelled for underage drinking. This also meant it was an in-house matter at this time of day and the head would not necessarily need to be directly involved in punishing the girls.
Margaret readily agreed with this assessment although somewhat reluctantly I felt.
“It’s the disgrace of it, Simon you know drunk and incapable at that age. I can hardly believe it. I don’t know how Mrs Hay will cope.”
In my estimation Mrs Hay would cope admirably. In my view she was a high spirited, capable woman; a mother of four children, all under eleven who organised her classes, and I suspected her husband and children as well with a firmness of purpose. I was sure she would cope admirably in what would be difficult circumstances. I also had no doubt that when the incident was over Sharon Hay would find something that was humorous in it.
“I told Sharon if she could not get the girls back on the bus to wait until they had sobered up and bring them back in a taxi” added Margaret Cole. “I thought that was the best thing.”
This also seemed very sensible to me. At this, I merely nodded in agreement.
“They will both have to be caned”, said Margaret. “I don’t like caning my sixth formers” she added, “particularly those who are about to leave us next week. But still”, she continued, “it’s not our fault, just our responsibility.”
Again I agreed with everything Margaret had said and this time said so. I don’t think she was really listening to me though.
“We need to split the girls between us as this is a house matter”, she interrupted. “I will deal with Caroline and you with Paula Wood. Oh what a mess and God knows what time they will get back… it will mean waiting up for them of course. I’m really livid about all this. Sharon Hay will ring me when they leave the school,” she added “so I’d better go back to my room and wait for her. I’ll let you know when I know something. Is what I have suggested OK?” she added as she left my room.
“Yes. Thanks”, I shouted to the closing door behind her.
‘Thanks for nothing’ I thought. Of course Margaret had been quite right in what she had said and the decisions she had taken. The girls could not be brought back on the bus if they were going to be a problem. Yes, it was a house matter and we had to deal with them individually and as the school rules stated drunkenness could not be tolerated at any time for any pupil and both girls would have to face the fact that, although they were nearly nineteen years old, house prefects and leaving us next week they would be caned.
I also had to face the fact that I would have to cane Paula Wood myself. This was a problem for me not only because she was an older girl and my deputy head of house but really because I had fancied her from the moment I laid eyes on her in my class last September. Paula was actually already nineteen, quick to understand, as bright as a button and in her third year of her sixth form. She had taken Scholarship Level History with me and, as she had been offered ludicrously straightforward grades, would go to Oxford in the autumn.
I found Paula Wood enchanting. She had the smoothness of maturity about her with her long blonde hair and sparkly ‘come to bed with me’ blue eyes and her comely smile. I liked the clothes she wore and the way she wore them. Sixth formers did not normally wear uniform and what Paula wore showed off her physical attributes to great effect. I noticed her breasts the first time I met her and her dress sense showed she had probably had the most stunning of bums. She had a great sense of humour and an earthy, dirty giggle from which I felt drawn and did not want to escape. She was, in my view at least, lovely. I had found her totally fascinating. It had taken me all my professional skills and personal restraint to stop myself from asking her out already. In fact I had intended to do just that at the ‘leavers do’ next week. The urge to ask her out was contrasted with my fear that she would turn me down though and all my hopes would be shattered.
Now I was in the invidious position of having to cane her. Yes, I would probably get the opportunity to get close to her as I organised her across a chair but this was not the form of touching that I wanted. Certainly I would se her bottom all right as I brought the cane down across it but this would be little compensation, as she would undoubtedly turn down my offer to go out as a result of what I had done to her. After all you cannot get a girl to bend over for you, lift her dress, allow herself to be caned, humiliate herself in front of you and then expect her to say “Yes, course I will go out with you. It would be lovely.” What a bugger! How cruel and yet how ironic life is I thought as I waited for her and Caroline to return.
It was long wait made even longer by my feelings. The rest of the bus party arrived back shortly after eleven o’clock but it was after twelve by the time three other figures could be seen getting out of a taxi in front of the main school door. From my room I watched Mrs Hay pay the taxi, then help both girls out of it and come up to the front door. I looked at both girls who even from that distance still seemed to be under the influence of drink. Paula clearly could still hardly stand and had to be held up by Mrs Hay. ‘She must have had an awful lot to drink I thought’ as I made my way down to meet the girls and Miss Cole.
When I got to outside the main school door it was clear that neither girl was in a good state. Their clothes were a dishevelled jumble, their hair totally unkempt and their make up a runny mess across their faces. Both of them had been sick. Remnants of sick were all over the front of their clothes, on their shoes, on their hands and in Paula’s case in her hair as well. They stank, both of them; a combination of sick, old alcohol, and urine. It was my bet they had both messed themselves at some point earlier in the evening as well. They both looked totally shambolic and not the least bit attractive; what would nowadays be described as ‘wrecked’. Nevertheless, even in this state, and however much she stank as I looked at Paula I realised that I would still have rather cuddled her than tanned her.
Margaret Cole, while wrinkling her nose with distaste at what was in front of her, immediately instructed both girls to make their way to her study across in Larpool House. Treating them more like first years than sixth form leavers she told them “You will stand up straight, one either side of my study door with your hands on your heads. And you will wait there in silence for Mr Lunt and I to deal with you.”
I now understood the school code; standing outside a door with hands on head was a signal that the miscreant was going to receive some form of corporal punishment. If these instructions were given by the headmistress or her deputy, a caning was a certainty; the instruction when given by a head of house indicated a probable caning or a possible slippering was coming up.
“Do you understand what I am saying to you?” she added, looking directly into Caroline Hill’s face.
Caroline swallowed deeply and responded very quietly “Yes Miss.”
Paula looking completely woe-be-gone did not raise her eyes from her shoes and merely nodded, as if in acceptance of her fate.
“You will wait for us”, Miss Cole repeated “we will of course be no longer than is necessary.”
Both girls then made their way to Larpool House.
Two things were now evident. Caroline, despite her state of dress, was quite steady on her feet by now, and Paula, although still wobbly, was able to walk on her own. Secondly, both girls brushed the back of their skirts with both hands across their bottom as they went indicating they were aware of what was about to happen and what part of their bodies it was most likely to affect.
That left Margaret and I to try to gain some understanding from Sharon of what had happened at the dance. Sharon, despite all her years of experience and her level headedness, said much of what had occurred was still a mystery and may always remain so.
"Two of the girls," she said, "had come to find me at about half past nine to tell me both Paula and Caroline were being violently sick in the girls toilet and they though I should come. When I got there I saw Caroline Hill was bending over and retching uselessly into a toilet bowl, while Paula Wood crying, slumped against a cubicle door, and was messing herself!"
“I was staggered by what confronted me”, Sharon said “after all I’m used to children being sick; it is a regular occurrence with my four. Although I’m less used to children messing themselves; I’ve changed thousands of nappies in my time, so even that side of it does not put me off too much. But these two are eighteen, Paula Hill is over nineteen isn’t she and going up to Oxford in October. God help us,” she added, ”for once though I really did not know what to do.”
“Eventually and after some loin-girding”, she said “I got some sense out of Caroline. Something about alcohol and drinking wine with a couple of boys from the garbled disjointed story she was telling me. Caroline said both her and Paula had drunk a full bottle of wine each in less than an hour and had just managed to get to the toilets before Paula had collapsed on the floor. Caroline," Sharon Hay added, “understood the level of difficult both of them were in.”
“We will both be caned Miss won’t we”, she had said, “When we get back to school. I’m so sorry Miss Hay”, she had also said, “we’ve both been very stupid haven’t we? I know we will both suffer for what we have done.” Sharon said she could not but agree with this summary.
Paula Wood was just hopeless though”, Sharon added, “still crying; unable to stand properly and weeing herself again as I tried to lift her up. Then she was sick again over herself, and the floor around her. It was disgusting! What a state she was in, still is.” she added. "I’m not sure how you are going to deal with her tonight. She may have to wait to be dealt with tomorrow. I think she has probably done a ‘number two’ in her knickers again in the taxi as well”, she said looking directly at me, knowing this may end up to be my problem.
“We will try to deal with both girls tonight if we can, Sharon”, I said. “It would be better all round I feel if we can get this over with. Caroline Hill looks as if she is well on the way to recovery now. I will make a judgement about Paula’s state when we get to Larpool and take it from there. Both Sharon and Margaret fell in with this idea; with Margaret supporting this fully. “It all depends on the state of Paula Wood, I agree,” she said. “For all our sakes I want this sorted out before I go too bed tonight.”
Sharon then explained that she had shared the story of Caroline and Paula with the other members of the school staff at the dance and that they had rounded up the rest of the girls without telling them any more of what had happened and escorted them on to the bus while she had stayed behind while Caroline and Paula. The journey home in the taxi, she added, had not been too bad. Caroline had cried a lot, apologised profusely and constantly asked for forgiveness, while Paula had merely sat with her head between her hands and groaned loudly most of the way back.
At this point we both thanked Sharon copiously for all the care she had taken with these two troublesome girls and split up. Sharon went home and Margaret and I went off to Larpool to see how both Paula and Caroline were now. Our arrival outside Miss Cole’s study was preceded by the sound of her shoes on the parquet flooring. So the girls had a clear warning of our arrival. Whatever they may have been doing previously they were now standing stiffly upright with their noses to the wall wearing only their bra and knickers, with their dance dresses removed and folded neatly beside them on the floor. Both girls now looked fully sober. I wondered if the impending caning had done the trick. Again, and despite the open window on a warm night, the smell in the corridor was unpleasant. It was easy now to see exactly why. Caroline’s knickers were stained with what appeared to be semi-dry urine, while Paula’s underwear was both urine stained and in some places the colour of diarrhoea.
“Go inside girls”, Miss Cole instructed. We followed them into her room. The girls stood in front of Miss Cole’s desk, with both her and myself standing behind it. “I am not going to hold either an inquisition or a post mortem”, said Miss Cole briskly. “I am not sure I know everything that has gone on and I am certain that neither of you will. You know you are both very lucky,” she added, ”that you are both over eighteen means it will not become an issue for the headmistress and she will not be forced to expel you. This incident will be dealt with as a house matter. As I am sure you are aware now drinking alcohol let alone being drunk is an offence punishable by a caning by your Head of House. This is what we intend to do. I am sure that you will understand that in the circumstances the tariff will be the severest possible that we can set. In our view for what you have done you should both receive six strokes of the cane with your knickers down. However, looking at the state of both of your knickers I have no intentions of touching them. I am not even sure I want to see them on the floor in my home and, in your case in particular Paula, I am not sure I have any desire to look at the state of your bottom once you have taken your pants off. And you both of stink something awful!"
“Are you with me so far girls?” Miss Cole asked. Both girls nodded. “OK then lets see. Paula as you are going to Oxford in the autumn, tell me how many strokes of the cane did I just say you will receive?"
After a short break for though and a gulp of breath Paula said in a very small voice, “Six strokes Miss Cole.”
“Well done,” Miss Cole responded. “You were listening. Clearly you deserve a stab at your Oxbridge education. Is it maths you are going to read?”
“No Miss, History”, replied Paula.
Margaret Cole then ignored her and turned her attention to Caroline.
“Caroline Hill”, she said, “if my memory is correct you have been here before, haven’t you?”
“Yes Miss Cole,“ responded Caroline.
“Just remind me what happened.”
“I’ve been here twice for a punishment.” said Caroline, now beginning to cry. "You gave me two with the slipper when I was a second year for talking after lights out and then six with the slipper in the third year for being rude in class.”
“Oh yes”, said Miss Cole as if searching her memory for the appropriate facts. “Tell me Caroline what is the average number of smacks with the slipper you have received on your visits?”
“Err four Miss”, she responded now snivelling heavily as well as crying big tears, no longer able to hold them back.
“Quite good”, Margaret Cole said “we may make a mathematician out of you yet.”
Again turning to Paula, she asked “if we take Caroline’s average slipperings and add to it the number of bottles of wine you both drank tonight where does that leave us?”
“Six, I think miss”, said Paula as quick as a flash.
“Paula, are you sure that is the correct total? You had a bottle of wine each? Is that the total you make too Caroline?” Caroline could only nod in agreement at this point.
“Tell me, Paula Wood” Miss Cole continued, “How many full schooldays have you got left with us now.”
“Schooldays…? Four Miss, Monday; Tuesday: Wednesday and Thursday, Miss.” she added by way of explanation of her reasoning.
“Wow! Paula that’s brilliant. “And how many full days have you got left with us in total?"
“Six miss” she responded just as quickly.
"Well done, six seems to be an increasingly popular number in your lives at the moment doesn’t it girls? Well here is another six for you both to think about. As a reward for your antics tonight you will each receive six strokes of the cane. Also,” added Miss Cole, “we have decided to deal with you individually which means Caroline I will cane you, while Mr Lunt will attend to you, Paula. This arrangement is not negotiable. If either of you feel this is not appropriate or you want a third opinion I will take it to the headmistress myself. I am sure you already know what her response will be.”
When neither girl indicated they wished to take up this option Miss Cole, carefully looking again at the state of Paula and Caroline’s underwear placed her copy of that day’s newspaper on the floor near to where the girls were standing.
“Having now considered the matter carefully I have decided that you will be caned with your bottoms bared. I would like you to remember this occasion for a considerable length of time” she said. “So you will both of you remove your knickers and place them on this newspaper so that my carpet is not penetrated by their smell or contaminated by them. “Take them off now,” she instructed.
Both girls then stepped out of their underwear, the level of distaste at what they had been asked to do showing clearly on both of their faces as well as in the way they used only the tips of their fingers to handle the offending garment. Having placed their knickers on that day’s copy of The Telegraph both of the miscreants stood up again.
“Caroline as you have been here twice before for house punishment”, she continued, “You will remember the routine. It’s the same for the cane as it is for the slipper."
Caroline, with only her bra remaining, and crying liberally with crocodile tears running down her cheeks, bent over the end of the settee which was placed in the middle of the room. I could not help noticing that her buttocks, which were now totally exposed over one arm of the settee, were large, wobbly and as white as her face and made an impressive target.
I motioned to Paula, who was similarly scantily clothed in only her bra, to take up the same position on the other arm of the settee. Without a sound or even any form of facial expression she moved across to the opposite end and positioned herself over the left hand arm with her legs placed tightly together; to protect her private parts I suspected. Her buttocks were noticeably darker in hue and both tighter and smaller than Caroline’s. Both girls spread their arms out in front of them across the cushions on the seat of the settee and joined hands in a somewhat impressive form of mutual support. I was impressed with this. I also noticed that both girls were seemingly completely sober now.
I would have been more impressed if I wasn’t so worried about what I was now going to have to do to Paula’s bottom. Her demeanour throughout her time in Miss Cole’s study had been increasingly impressive. She had correctly answered all of the questions she had been asked. She hadn’t cried so far and actually in a brotherly way I felt proud of her. Further, I wanted to do the job I had to do properly but without either appearing to go soft on her or thrashing her arse to bits. It was a fine line for a virgin caner, let alone a shared situation and doing it on someone you knew you increasingly liked.
I picked up the cane, gave it a sound couple of swishes through the air and said ”Right Paula Wood. Are you ready?”
“Yes Sir”, she said quietly.
Caroline was asked the same question by Miss Cole. However, she merely nodded her assent through her increasingly shrill cries, her tears and the body of snot which was falling from her eyes and nose and dripping onto the cushions.
Looking back over many years now I realise in the circumstances I did a fair job in making an impression on Paula’s bottom. However, this was largely by accident rather than design. The first stroke she received I brought down quite hard and cut well into her arse, leaving a long thin red line all the way across the middle of her buttocks. She winced only slightly at the pain and hardly moved. The second stroke was intended to be a little harder. I placed this stroke parallel to the first and about two inches down on the lea side of her buttocks towards the tops of her legs. This time I made the cane cut even further into her flesh and she squealed loudly before settling down again on the arm of the settee. Again a long thin, even redder double line appeared across her bottom.
At this point, the thought crossed me that if I got one of the next two strokes right I could probably make her move so violently I would be able to see her cunt. I wasn’t in any way sure how to do this but it stuck me if I placed the next stroke lower down towards the top of her legs that this might work. It didn’t work the first time I tried I merely cut her again over the two strokes I had already laid on her.
It was a pure accident that the subsequent, fourth stroke, did the trick. Largely by mistake it caught Paula almost in the crease between the top of her legs and her bottom flesh. It was a bull’s eye! This time Paula shouted out with the pain the stroke caused her and, without any real control over her body reared up of the arm of the settee, her long shapely legs splayed out and thrashing violently in the air. Bingo! Her fanny and her arsehole were in full view; a delight that was only increased when she also partially turned round to try to rub away some of the pain from her bottom. Naturally, I waited while she settled herself again but I had a good view for some seconds of her now partially opened cunny as well as the darker shades of her puckered arsehole. ‘God, Paula’, I thought I’ve seen it all now. You’ve made my year!
I cannot say I noticed the line the penultimate stroke of the cane made on her bottom, while I delivered the final stoke in a barred-gate style across the others. This last stroke, although not so hard as the previous two, also left a thin, red line right across her buttocks. Her response to this last stroke was a slight whimper followed by a long low groan, as she buried her head as far as it would go into the arm of the settee and again kicked her legs up and down in the air; again allowing me to see all that she possessed between them.
Unlike Caroline Hill who was screaming the place down and blubbering all over herself, Paula, despite the pain I had caused her, had not shed a single tear throughout her punishment. To use a totally inappropriate phrase she had taken her punishment ‘like a man’. Again I was proud of her. All I wanted to do was to pick her up, say sorry to her and cuddle her in my arms. All I could do though was to tell her to stand up now and hope that she did not hate me. It was immediately clear that she didn’t need any recovery time, so I told her to go and put her dress on and I would escort her back to her house.
Walking back to Wainton neither of us said much to each other until we had got inside.
I broke the ice by saying the obvious, “You need a bath, Paula. Go and get one now and then come and see me in my flat when you are ready for bed.”
At that we parted and I went up to my rooms to wait for her.
It was a very long wait in what had already been a very long night. We had parted just after one o’clock in the morning but it was nearly three o’clock before there was this gentle tapping on my door to wake me from my slumbers. On being asked to come in Paula stood there now looking somewhat demurely at me in her pyjamas, slippers and dressing gown. She also smelt gorgeous.
Smiling weakly she said “Hello. It is very late now but I hope you won’t be too cross.”
How can I be cross with you, you’re gorgeous I though as I let her into my sitting room. Having decided it would be stupid in the circumstances to ask her how she was I asked her if I could get her anything to eat.
“Can I have water please?” she asked.
“I’m sorry about what has happened”, I said to her as she poured her water from the jug into her glass.
“Not as sorry as I am I bet”, she retorted. “I hate being sick and as for peeing in my knickers and shitting myself you have no idea how embarrassing that is. Let alone when everyone else got to know. It is all so humiliating. I am too embarrassed to talk about it, really, a girl of my age!”
So, I changed the subject and asked her about her plans after she left next week. She was happy to talk, sitting still somewhat awkwardly on my settee. The conversation moved from her immediate plans to going on holiday; going up to Oxford; her sister, who was in the fourth year with us and whom I knew; her brother; books we liked; music; records and a whole host of other things. We seemed to be naturals together to the extent that it was nearly seven o’clock and early bell time before we realised. At that point, promising that we would talk again after her next lesson on Tuesday, I shooed her out of my flat and prayed that no one would see her leave.
It was my weekend off. So, having been to house breakfast I then returned to my rooms locked the door and went to bed. I was soon fast asleep and slept soundly until after twelve o’clock. It was when I was drinking a coffee at about half past twelve and trying to pull myself together that there was the increasingly familiar light knock on the door. I was still not dressed, so hurriedly putting on a pair of trousers and an old shirt that was lying about on the floor, I unlocked the door.
There she was. Paula again looking absolutely drop dead gorgeous in a summer dress, her hair washed and brushed tidily, her make up on and smelling so tantalisingly. God she looked fantastic as she stood there smiling coyly at me!
“I thought we weren’t meeting again until Tuesday?” I said, trying to get a perspective on the situation.
“I couldn’t wait until Tuesday”, Paula replied “it is far too far away. I’ve come to see you now instead. I hope you don’t mind?” Looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, her smile became increasingly alluring. I all but melted. “I want you to do something for me”, she continued. “You’ve got a car haven’t you? I want us to go for a drive this afternoon.”
Even though the prospect of driving her anywhere was very appealing and the day was my own I though this was more than brazen….. but 'in for a penny. In for a pound' it took little persuasion to make me decide to go along with her request. “Right OK. I responded. “And where do you want to go?”
“The seaside", she said without a pause, "Skegness would be nice, and don’t you think a nice walk along the beach might be just what we both need?”
The school was in the middle of England and although Skegness was about the nearest seaside town, it was probably one hundred miles away. But as you should never look a gift horse in the mouth. I agreed. “OK, give me five minutes”, I said. “You can wait here if you want or do you want to meet me by my car, as you know so much about it? I have a couple of things to do before we can set off.”
“So I can see, she said with a cheeky smile on her face. Hopefully one of them is to get properly dressed and don’t forget to fasten your fly buttons this time; it is quite embarrassing to a girl!” she said, laughing heartily.
I looked down and sure enough my flies were unfastened and my pyjamas showing through them, Talk about being embarrassed!
“I’ll wait here”, she said. “I promise not to peek too much”, she added, with that tinkling laugh again.
The afternoon largely turned out to be one of laughter. We drove to Skegness; ate ice creams; had fish and chips and watched the sun go down over the sea. Oh yes, we walked along the beach where we had our first kiss and fell in love. Paula flatly refused to show me the damage I had done to her bottom.
“That’s mine and you’ve already seen it”, she said when I asked her.
Her mother though inspected the remains of the damage when she went home on Friday. There was no follow up from home over this incident and I was pleased. However, the whole incident was a continuing source of conversation between her mother and me over the years. Our kids also love the story, although they never understand why, in the circumstances, their mother asked me to go out with her. Our eldest says she would have avoided me like the plague; which as a teenager is what she does anyway. I tell her. When our eldest asks her about it Paula just smiles and says beguilingly ‘hidden depths, you know …hidden depths’.
What Paula, and no one else knows, is that secreted away in one of my desk drawers are the knickers she was wearing that night. Carefully looking to make sure which were hers I had surreptitiously picked them off the newspaper and put them in my pocket before I started her punish her. I didn’t care about their condition, or how much smelt. They were an intimate piece of clothing that I had seen on Paula. She had had worn them that night and they may be the closest I would get to her.
They don’t smell, now of course, but their ragged condition still means a lot to me. Even the now somewhat faded stains on the white cotton are still visible. Occasionally, and for no obvious reason at all except sentimentality, I take them out of the bag I keep them in and just look at them; just for old time’s sake. What memories they bring back. Fortunately though rather than the finale of my desire for Paula they were the starting point in a lifelong love affair.
