by Pam and Mike

Even though the Second World War had recently ended Riverside Convalescent Home still relied on retired nursing staff brought back into service and on young ladies in training.

The Matron, Agnes Jones, was an example. Aged 65 she had come back to work and she applied the very high standards that she had been used to over many years. One of her toughest tasks was training some of the girls and she found that the material was not always as good as she would have liked.

Helen Castle was one example and she had very recently started at the Home and found Matron very formidable. She was 20 and a pretty girl about 5’2” tall with a plump figure. She was anxiously scribbling in her room, trying to finish an essay Matron had set her but the time was running out. She grabbed what she had written and went towards Matron’s office arriving there just as the clock struck 2pm. She hesitated outside the door but then knocked.

Matron Jones called her in and Helen stood on the rug in front of Matron’s desk. Matron held out her hand and Helen offered her the essay. Matron took it. Helen stood there in her nurse’s uniform looking very timid. Matron scanned the essay and the peered at the girl over her half-moon glasses.

“I am afraid that this will not do, young lady. I have not been satisfied with your study since you arrived. I think I need to deal with you” she said.

Helen looked at the rug. Whatever did she mean?

“In my view the way to encourage you, young lady, is by corporal punishment. Do you have anything to say?” she continued.

“ mean...I am going to be caned, Matron?” stammered Helen.

“That is correct. Have you been caned before?”

“No, Matron...” replied Helen placing her hands on her bottom.

“I find it works well and you will certainly be rubbing that bottom when I have finished. Report back here at 10pm” she said tersely.

Helen left the room in a daze.

She spent the afternoon working with Orla, a very pretty slim girl with a very nice figure. Orla was clearly not herself today and appeared to have something on her mind. She too was a student nurse and Helen had seen her in her room that morning struggling with some work set by Matron. Helen certainly did have something on her own mind so she did not ask Orla what the problem was but as Orla was a clever girl and very obedient, she did not suspect that she was overdue with her essay. The afternoon and evening went slowly and Helen found herself thinking more and more about her next visit to the office.

At 9.45pm Orla went off duty an then as the clock approached 10pm Helen handed over to another nurse and headed for Matron’s study. As she approached, she saw the door open and she ducked behind a set of screens in the corridor at this secluded end of the building. Orla emerged from the office and closed the door. She paused outside the door and clutched her backside. Slowly she walked along the corridor rubbing it and looking tearful but she didn’t see Helen.

Helen then emerged and knocked on Matron’s door. She was told to come in.

“Come here, girl” said Matron standing up to her full height and moving to Helen’s side of the desk.

Helen moved forward.

“You know why you are here...” said Matron who then went through various shortcomings with her essay. “, I think the decision to cane you is the right one. Bend over. I will give you six strokes.”

Helen did as she was told and bent over and reached for her toes, her finger tips just touching them. Matron lifted her uniform and folded it back to reveal Helen’s short but shapely legs, her knickers covering her plump backside and framed by her suspenders.

Matron then went to her desk and picked up the cane. It was three feet long and tapered to a point. She held the crooked handle in her right hand and flexed the cane with her left hand holding the tip. Helen watched from her bending position; she had not seen a cane so close before, in fact a slippering from her friend’s mother for misbehaviour when staying at her house two years earlier had been the only spanking she had ever received. She positioned herself to Helen’s left side and placed the cane firmly against Helen’s bottom.

“Six strokes and if you move I will repeat the stroke” she warned as she drew the cane well back.

Swiiiish-craack – the first stroke lashed across the centre of Helen’s backside sinking into the padded posterior. “Ahh” cried Helen.

Swiiiish-craack – the second and again Helen gasped aloud.

“This is you first caning” said Matron “so we’d better make it a good one.”

Swiiiish-craack - Swiiiish-craack – two strokes in quick succession. Helen clenched her teeth as tears welled in her eyes.

Swiiiish-craack – the fifth was harder and Matron observed how it bit into the young woman’s cheeks.

Swiiiish-craack – with extra zing Matron applied the last stroke, low on Helen’s buttocks. “Aahh” she squealed as she felt the bite of the cane.

“Stand up” said Matron.

Helen stood up and clutched her stinging cheeks.

“Rewrite the essay for tomorrow at 10pm” said matron thrusting the paper at Helen “I hope that you backside will remind you to do a god job this time. You may go.”

Helen went back to her room, collected her towel and went to the bathrooms. She stripped off in the shower area and luckily no-one else was there so she studied her backside in the full length wall mirror. It was very well marked and each stroke had left a raised welt and the area around was red and very sore. She entered a shower cubicle and closed the curtain. She showered and then another nurse entered the shower area. It was Ginny, a nurse aged about 25. Through the edge of the curtain she saw her undress and walk naked to a cubicle and close the curtain. Helen turned off the shower and cautiously went to her clothes where she picked up the towel and wrapped it around her. She then retreated to her room where she removed the towel and bent over pointing her bottom at a mirror as she carefully ran her fingers along the stripes.

Over the coming weeks Helen took care not to displease Matron but Orla was not so lucky and had three uncomfortable visits to her office receiving six of the best each time. Each time she showed Helen the marks and seemed to be getting well used to the cane – she even confided as they lay naked in bed that she had been caned several times before but Matron’s strokes were much harder than any she experienced before. On one occasion after corporal punishment Orla had even playfully spanked Helen in the showers and Helen found this very arousing. But then there were rumours of a new Matron coming. One evening Matron told Helen to report to her office. She went at the appointed time and Matron ticked her off for a minor misdemeanour. Matron then went to her cupboard and fetched the cane.

“B-but, Matron...surely a caning is...” said Helen who could not believe that she was to be caned for a minor infringement.

“I am caning you for the last time as the new Matron arrives in the morning. I doubt that she uses corporal punishment as she is a younger woman not used to my high standards. Now bend over.”

Helen argued. “But, Matron I think six strokes of the cane is a bit much...”

Matron came towards her. “It will be eight – two extra for arguing. Now bend over or they will be on your bare bottom” she said.

Helen bent over and Matron lifted her uniform. Very deliberately she raised the cane and started to deliver a swishing six of the best – then the two extra strokes were applied low on Helen’s plump backside.

“Stand up” said Matron.

Helen stood up and her hands clung to her aching bottom as a tear rolled down her face. That was quite a caning.

She went to her room and changed into her dressing gown and went to the bathrooms. Orla had been just ahead of her and seemed to be surprised as Helen entered the shower area.

Orla noticed the tear stain on Helen’s face.

“I’ve just been caned by Matron...” she told Orla “I was hoping the showers would be you know I’ve been caned I may as well carry on...” Helen told her friend.

Orla untied her dressing gown and dropped it to the floor. Helen had seen her naked before but Orla then turned. Helen saw her bottom – it had six fresh cane marks – Orla had not been able to let Helen know that she was to be caned as it had happened quite quickly when Matron admonished her for a minor issue and Orla had been cheeky. She had been taken to Matron’s office, told to bend over and been given six stingers without hesitation. Orla turned back to face Helen, her pert breasts in her face. Helen slipped her own dressing gown off and turned round and bent over placing her hands on the bench. Orla squatted down and examined the marks, touching them with her finger tips.

“Gosh. Eight strokes...” she said as her finger tips touched Helen’s inner thigh and then traced a line up to her hirsute pussy and along her labia. “Let’s shower” she said ending the intimate moment.

They shared a shower and Helen used the opportunity to examine Orla’s bottom and her pussy and breasts. As they stepped out of the shower cubicle, Helen though she glimpsed the bathroom door close.

Two days later the new Matron called them to her office. She had a Scots accent, was aged about 40 and seemed very strict.

“I believe that I saw you both in the showers...together...on Tuesday evening. Do you usually share a cubicle when there are others available?” she enquired.

Helen and Orla looked at the floor and blushed.

“You deserve to be punished” she said.

Helen and Orla looked dismayed but could not believe that this new Matron would use a cane too.

“Your previous Matron used the cane I understand...” she said.

“Yes...yes, that is correct” replied Orla.

“Yes, I do know” aid Matron abruptly “Matron Jones was my mentor when I was you age and she caned me several times...caned me quite severely on my backside...but I never shared a shower with another nurse.”

Helen and Orla was intrigued by her spanking past but blushed at the further rebuke about sharing the shower.

“I do not use the cane...” she informed them. Helen and Orla were relieved. They watched Matron open a drawer on her desk “...but I am very proficient with this” she said showing them a heavy leather tawse.

She came towards them. “Who is to be first?”

Helen watched as six times the tawse stung Orla’s backside which, beneath her tight white pants, was still multi-coloured from the caning. Orla then watched Helen receive six hard strokes that were applied heavily to her friend’s bottom.

Twenty years later in a nursing home many miles away, Orla looked at the records of a new resident. She was a Miss Agnes Jones and had been a Matron. She went home that afternoon to the flat she shared with another nurse. She went in and called out to her. The other woman called from the bathroom where she was in the shower.

“Come into the bedroom, there’s something I need to tell you” Orla called as she took off her uniform and stood there in her underwear. The other woman came in stark naked with water droplets all over her short plump figure and more on her thick pubic bush.

Orla continued. “We have a new resident and we’d better be on top form or else...” she said.

The other girl looked intrigued “Tell me more.”

Orla went to the wardrobe and took out a long cane and flexed it between her hands. “It is Matron Jones from Riverside...remember? I think a good caning would be a useful reminder, don’t you?”

Helen giggled. “Yes, but let me dry my bottom or it will sting so much...and you can take six of the best too, Orla” she said drying her bottom.

Moments later Helen was bent over the bed and Orla tapped the cane on her friend’s ample backside that was now facing her. It had been just week since she had last caned Helen and two weeks since she had been caned by Helen. She tapped the cane several times against Helen’s bottom.

“At least we kept our knickers on for Matron” laughed Helen as she awaited the first stroke.

Orla drew the cane back. “I don’t think they offered much protection, our bottoms were well marked and the cane stung like fury.”

“Just as my freshly showered bottom will now sting” said Helen cheerily.

The cane swished down and bit into Helen’s naked backside. She bucked her did sting...very much.

Writers thrive on feedback to their stories, both good and bad. Your comments provide incentive to write better, write different, write more. If you want more stories to read, then you must encourage the authors. Your comment will be posted under the story.

Click here to add a comment on this story