Halfpenny's storiesAugust 21 2007 at 12:02 PM
As I have indicated in another message, I've decided to post my stories here.
I don't hide the fact I have a sexual interest in corporal punishment nor do my stories. They are, as close to accurate accounts of my adolescent experiences with the cane at school as I think I can reasonably be expected to write, but they are memories of incidents that are pretty charged with emotion of different sorts. And because I seek to be accurate and there were sexual aspects associated with these experiences, that's included in them. It isn't anything particularly exciting. I was a relatively well behaved middle class girl attending a strict school, with strict parents, so my sex life didn't involve other people.
These messages were originally written for another forum, and so they contain some terms that are used on that forum, and less used here. I've edited them slightly, but only slightly.
There will be three messages, this one being the first, containing this new material you are reading now, and most of my first message to that other forum, and two others telling the stories of my two canings, my only canings, at school.
I live in Australia, I'm in my mid 20s, and I have had sexual and sort of sexual feelings about spanking ever since I was a little girl - before I was five, I know I got strange feelings when I watched other kids getting smacked, and when it happened to me as well. I was fascinated when it happened to other kids. I didn't like it when it happened to me, but at the same time I knew there were elements of it that had some strange appeal. I got smacked a fair bit as a child - not an unusual amount, but my parents certainly weren't among those who didn't believe in it. I just got smacked with their hands until I was about seven and then I started to get the wooden spoon sometimes up until my early teens.
I went to a school that still used corporal punishment occasionally - mostly on the boys, but girls got it sometimes as well. And I was pretty well behaved and I used to really get a kick out of hearing that somebody had been smacked or even been caned. I thought it was schadenfraude (not that I knew that word, but that was the reason I thought I liked hearing about it) until I was 14.
By 14, I knew about sex and I knew I had sexual feelings when I saw some boys I thought were really cute, or when I read stories in magazines. Then I was reading a book from the library - 'Ghosts I Have Been' by Richard Peck. This book was about a girl called Blossom Culp growing up in American at the start of the twentieth century.
Quite early on in the book was a scene where a boy at her school bashed her and another girl up, and when Blossom woke up after being knocked out, she could hear the sounds of the boy getting thrashed with a paddle. Reading that passage made me feel a little strange, but I shrugged it off. But then a bit later, Blossom is talking to some girls - making a prediction of what will happen to them because they cheated on a test - and there's a great line that burned itself into my brain.
"But I can hear the sounds of bottoms being smacked and shrieks of pure pain."
That line aroused me - and I knew it had. It sort of came on me in a flash at that point - smacking and spanking and caning and all those things turned me on. This was sexual. It was such a profound realisation.
Over the next few weeks, I started exploring this in any way I could think of. I tried to steer conversations with my friends around to their experiences but that was hard because I didn't want to make them suspicious, I looked up every topic I could think of in the school library - looking up words like cane and spank in dictionaries, seeing what I could find in encyclopedias, looking at books on places like ancient Rome, turning to the chapters on schools just to see what they mentioned. There was a great social studies textbook - unfortunately I have no idea of the title - which had a drawing of a boy getting spanked in it, as well as a discussion on paddling in American schools. I made sure I walked past the Principal's office at the start of every lunchtime (all canings were carried out at lunchtime) so I could see if anybody was waiting to be caned and if they were I used to try and sit under the Principal's office window so I could hear what was happening - I wasn't game to try and watch.
Finally I decided to get myself caned - possibly the dumbest thing I did, but I'll try and write it down later.
Getting caned deliberately
|August 21 2007, 12:06 PM |
Penny is a good name for me - it should have appeared in my last message but somehow I don't think I set it up properly. It's not my real name but a nickname is Halfpenny so it's a good choice, I think. I said I'd write about the time I decided to get myself deliberately caned at school.
Like I said in my delurk I now know that I had a sexual thing about smacking and spanking and other physical punishment from a very early age. But I didn't realise that it was sexual until I was about 14. Then when I was reading a book it suddenly hit me and I realised what was going on. The whole idea of such punishment turned me on.
My parents had smacked me when they thought I deserved it while I was growing up and I really didn't like it - even though I did have some positive feelings about it. They smacked with their hands until I was about seven and then they started using the wooden spoon and I really didn't like that much at all. I didn't get it that often, I don't think - maybe three or four times a year (actually that sounds like a lot, but it didn't seem that way at the time) and it started to get less common after I reached secondary school when I was 12 - I suppose that by the time I was 14, I'd got the spoon three or four times in the previous two years and hadn't got it at all for six months or so. My school - a private school - still used the cane. Most of the times boys got it, but the school believed in equal opportunity and that meant that if a girl earned a caning it could happen. Girls didn't get it as often, mostly because they didn't do the things that got you caned as often, but I think also they tried a bit harder to avoid using it on girls. Equal rights meant it had to be allowed, but I don't really think that it was as equal as they probably said it was. People only got the cane for pretty serious stuff, and most kids going through the school never even came close to getting it. After I worked out that this was a sexual thing for me, I started to fantasise a lot about physical punishment. I imagined getting smacked in all sorts of ways. I looked up any references I could find to smacking and spanking in books, for example. But one of the big things I did - I used to walk past the Principal's office at the start of every lunchtime to see if anyone was lined up waiting to be caned - the way it worked was all canings were done during lunch, though I didn't know the whole procedure at that stage. If I saw people waiting, I used to head around to a bench that was just under the Principal's window to hear what I could hear. You could never hear the talking - at least not clearly, although sometimes the Principal did yell and you heard a bit of that, but you could hear the cane hit and sometimes you heard the person who was hit yell out. That didn't happen often - but the whole experience really did turn me on a lot. I suppose I saw boys lined up once or twice a week on average - this didn't happen everyday, but it happened reasonably often. Girls - once, maybe twice a month. Sometimes it was one person, sometimes it was two or three - occasionally even more. A lot of people tried to seem tough and stood there as if they didn't care, but sometimes people were crying as they stood there waiting. I moved on as fast as I could past the lines - you really couldn't stay and watch. And whenever I saw anyone, unless it was raining, I used to go and sit on my perch. Most of the time I got a seat there - occasionally it was occupied and I couldn't. That used to really upset me. To start with, hearing the cane and imagining what was happening was enough for me - and imagining myself in that situation later. But over time, over six or seven months, I suppose, I began to want more. I wanted to feel it, I wanted to be punished, physically punished myself.
I had two possible ways of doing it - my parents or the school. My parents would have been easier - while by the time I was thinking of this, I hadn't got the spoon for a year, it'd been made clear to me more than once that this was just because I hadn't earned it. If I did, I would get it, and I could have come up with a way of provoking my parents into doing it. But as I say, I knew this was a sexual thing and the idea of getting my parents to smack me for sexual purposes seemed a bit too out there. I wouldn't have objected if it happened - and I was still scared of it, I have to say, because even though the idea turned me on I wasn't quite sure if it really would live up to my expectations and I knew that it hurt. But I wasn't going to provoke my parents into punishing me just because I found the idea arousing. That left the school - but the problem with that was that the cane was used only for pretty serious misbehaviour and I was a pretty well behaved girl. I didn't want to do any of the things that I knew would get me caned, because they would also wreck my reputation with my teachers and friends. You know, I could have done something like stolen something and got deliberately caught - but that would have wrecked my reputation for honesty. What I needed was something that would get me caned, but which wouldn't be regarded as really bad. But there wasn't anything like that.
But that changed one day at our Monday morning assembly.
The school is located in an inner city area - an area surrounded by a lot of busy roads. Most kids came to school by walking if they lived close enough, or catching public transport if they lived far enough away. But a minority rode our bike to school.
There were strict rules on riding a bike because of the traffic. Nobody could do it at all until they were 12, and before you were allowed to ride your bike to school, you had to get a bike licence - this was just something the school did. To get your licence, you had to pass a test on the road rules, and you had to go on a ride with one of the PE teachers who would make sure you knew how to ride safely in traffic. I'd got my licence when I was 12 - I lived about a fifteen minute bike ride from the school, about a forty five minute walk - three quarters of an hour seemed a bit long to walk to and from school, and while I could have used public transport, the bike was cheaper. So I rode to and from school every day. My ride was actually a pretty safe one, because a lot of it was on a bike path through a park, but I still had to pass the test and get my licence.
At this assembly the principal announced that he was getting complaints from the police that children from our school had been seen riding bikes without wearing helmets. The law said we had to wear bike helmets and so did our school rules. This type of issue came up a lot at assemblies - not always about bike helmets, but about things like behaviour on public transport and in shops after school, and I didn't really pay that much attention to them because I generally behaved myself. But this time he got my attention because he was obviously more angry about it than normal (or at least pretending to be angry) and he ended by saying that he was sick of this issue recurring and so he was giving us a very clear warning that anyone caught riding to or from school without a helmet would be liable to be caned. It was very dangerous and it was illegal and it would be dealt with very severely. That got my attention. Because riding a bike without a helmet didn't seem to me to be that big a deal really in terms of being really bad. Not a reputation destroyer certainly. But he said that people would be caned if they did it - and it was something I could do, because I rode a bike to school.
The real question was did I really want to do it. The idea appealed to me, but at the same time scared the stuffing out of me.
I went home that afternoon, went through the evening, and went to bed still thinking about it. And I hadn't made up my mind. But when I was in bed, I had ample opportunity to fantasise and indulge my fantasies and imagine being caned and the idea - now that I knew there was a much more realistic chance I could make it happen - really appealed to me an awful lot. And so before I fell asleep, I decided, mostly, that I would do it. I would break the rule in order to get myself caned. I was still scared of the idea, but I convinced myself that people obviously survived the cane so even if it proved to be absolutely awful and horrible, and nothing like I hoped, at least I'd know and I wouldn't be wondering all the time from then on. To be honest, I suppose I was a bit disturbed by the realization that I was sexually strange - and I think looking back on it, I thought that the worst result would be that this 'cured' me of that even if I didn't like it. It seemed sort of a 'win-win' situation.
I slept well, but woke up earlier than normal. I went to the bathroom to have my shower and I spent quite a lot of time looking at my bottom in the mirror before I got into the shower. When I was showering, I paid a lot of attention to washing my bottom properly - it just seemed right somehow to have it in a peak condition for this plan. When I dressed, I actually looked at my briefs to see which pair seemed thinnest, and I wore summer uniform - we had a choice at this time of year - because summer dresses were thinner that our winter skirt. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.
When I left for school, I wore my helmet - my mother might have seen if I hadn't, and besides I wasn't a fool - I knew the rule existed for a reason. I wore my helmet until I was nearly all the way to school. Just before I left the park, I stopped, took my helmet off and put it in my bag. Then I rode the rest of the way to school. I'd made sure I would arrive after the time I knew a teacher would be supervising arriving cars - what I hadn't counted on was it being my own year co-ordinator. As I came through the gate, she called my name and demanded I explain what had happened. I told her that I'd forgotten my helmet and she instructed me to see her at recess. As I went into school after putting my bike in the racks I was already starting to have some serious second thoughts about what I was doing - but it also seemed a little late to be having such second thoughts. I was nervous all through the morning and when I went to see her at recess, I was really very nervous.
As soon as she had me in her office, she started lecturing me about the reason there were rules about wearing bike helmets. I endured the lecture - not that I had a choice - but by halfway through recess I started to get worried that she was taking this so seriously that maybe this was all the punishment I was going to receive. I'd expected her to tell me off and then to tell me that I had to see the Principal at lunchtime and to give me one of the notes I'd seen kids carrying as they waited outside his office. Recess was nearly over when she stopped lecturing me. As far as I can recall, what happened next was something like this.
"Give me your licence," she said.
"Give me your licence. I'm suspending it until the end of the year - you can try and earn it back at the start of next year."
"Please, Miss! I need my licence to get to school."
"You can walk, or catch the tram."
"Oh, come on, Miss - walking takes an hour, and the tram costs money. I need my bike."
"Now, you look here - I'm trying to be generous. Didn't you hear the Principal yesterday? If I send you to him, you will get the cane. Do you want to get the cane?"
Now that it came down to it, I wasn't sure again if I did. I seemed to switch between wanting it and not wanting it - and suddenly I really didn't want it. But at the same time, a hour extra each day traveling to and from school - or spending my pocket money on tram tickets - those options didn't appeal either. If the choice was a detention or even two detentions, I think I'd have taken it - but I needed my bike licence.
"No Miss, but... I need my bike licence... I really do..."
She opened the drawer of her desk, rummaged around and pulled out a sheet of paper. She wrote at the top of it, and then halfway down the page. Then she put it in an envelope - the letters I'd seen kids carrying outside the office had often been in envelopes so I assumed it was one of those - and it was, but there was a detail I did not know about.
"Show that to your parents tonight - have them sign it, and take it to the Principal's office tomorrow at lunchtime."
I hadn't bargained on that at all, and I took the envelope in something of a daze, as I walked to the door. As I left, she told me that even keeping my licence, I'd obviously have to walk home that afternoon - because I had better not dream of riding home without a helmet.
I really spent the day in a daze. I'd expected to get everything over and done with by lunchtime - but now it was going to drag on for an extra day. I got told off for inattention a few times, but when my friend told the teachers it was because I was going to be caned, they gave me a lot more leeway - especially when they found out I hadn't done anything really seriously wrong. I mean, I had broken the rules, so I don't think the teachers had much sympathy for me, but it seemed I was right about the reputation thing - this wasn't going to cause me to be labeled as a bad girl from now on, or anything like that. A stupid girl, maybe - but not a bad one.
I did have my helmet in my bag and so I did ride home - rather slowly I suppose, but I had to go home, because I had nowhere else to go.
When I finally got home, I went inside where my mother was starting to prepare dinner. Without a word - because I didn't know what to say - I handed her the envelope. She opened it, and read it - and I watched her expression turn rather cloudy.
"Do you know what this says?"
"I think so."
"It says that you rode to school today without a bike helmet - and that because of that, you're going to get the cane tomorrow." I almost passed out when she said that. Of course, it was what I had been aiming at - but the clear announcement was still a surprising shock.
"I have to sign this to sign this so they can cane you. Look at it." She passed it over and I looked at it. It was a form letter - at the top, a salutation had been filled in address to both my parents and halfway down the page was a space where the crime could be written in. Under that was a passage that reminded my parents that corporal punishment existed as part of the schools disciplinary procedures, and that their agreeing to its use was a condition of my enrolment. If they refused to sign the letter, it was possible that they could be asked to withdraw me from the school.
There was also, at the bottom of the typing, just above my coordinator's signature, a rather ominous pair of boxes. One was supposed to be ticked if the school wanted the parents to reinforce the punishment at home. One was ticked if the school felt that this was unnecessary. I was relieved to see that in this case, the second box had been ticked.
And under that were spaces for both my parents to sign, that gave permission for corporal punishment to be inflicted on me. "Why does this say you weren't wearing a helmet? I saw you wearing a helmet. Is this some sort of mistake? Do you want me to phone the school."
I didn't have a good answer for that, but I knew an answer was expected. So I owned up that I had taken my helmet off before I got to school - and when I was asked why, all I could say was lie and say it was a dare. At that stage, my mother blew her top. She walked over to the drawers opened them, rummaged around, and pulled out the wooden spoon.
I fell to pieces at this point, and I begged her not to give me the wooden spoon. I pointed out that the school hadn't ticked the box asking her to punish me as well, and I pointed out that I was going to get the cane and surely that was punishment enough. She didn't pay any attention - she just grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over to the kitchen bench and pushed me over it. I objected verbally but I went where I was put. Once I was there, she lifted up the back of my dress to expose my underwear and gave me four hard whacks on each side of my bottom. I yelled and screamed, because it hurt a lot. An awful lot. But at least she hadn't pulled down my briefs - she'd only ever done that once with the spoon. Still it did hurt, and I really thought at that moment that my whole plan had been a really bad one.
As I stood up crying and rubbing, she took the form out of my hand - I was still holding it and left me standing there while she found a pen and signed the form. When she spoke to me again, her voice was calm and even pleasant.
"Go to your room and have a good cry - I'll call you when dinner is ready. And you'll probably want to wear thicker knickers tomorrow." I went upstairs and into my bathroom where I stripped off my dress and pulled my underwear down to look at my bottom in the mirror. There were two red marks - one on each side - kind of round but not exactly and as I looked at them, I really did start to feel aroused. I was hurting, but I was also feeling very warm and so I stood there and I rubbed myself as I looked at the marks and imagined what the marks of a cane might be like. By the time dinner came, I was feeling a lot better about the choices I had made. My father had arrived home and he signed the note as well - but he didn't get angry or anything - just told me that he hoped this wouldn't ever happen again and left it at that.
The next morning was a repeat of the first one. I went into the bathroom and looked at my bottom. All signs of the wooden spoon had faded and when I felt my cheeks there was no tenderness to speak off. I showered carefully paying attention to my bottom, and again selected another thin pair of briefs - my mother might have given me good advice from her perspective but I knew what I wanted. I put on another summer dress and went down to breakfast. Mum had cooked me a proper breakfast - pancakes with golden syrup instead of the weet bix I normally had. Before I went out the door, she gave me the note in an envelope and then gave me a big hug.
"Don't try and be too brave, dear."
I rode to school - as I passed through the gates, my year coordinator was there again, and so was the teacher on duty. As I went through the coordinator called me over and asked me if I had the note signed. I said yes - and she told me to come and see her at recess again - and to bring my helmet with me.
Again, once I got into class my attention wandered a bit. I was less doubtful about my plan than I had been earlier, but I still had some doubts and I was still nervous. Teachers continued to make allowances for me, but one did say that she hoped I would be back to normal by tomorrow.
At recess, I went to see my coordinator.
She told me to sit down and she took my helmet and looked at it closely. Then she told me that it had been her plan to call me in this morning and give me a chance to avoid the cane - she had been going to offer me a two week suspension of my bike licence, in the hope I'd been scared straight by the thought of the cane. But she'd seen me leaving the school the previous day on my bike - wearing a helmet. She'd considered the possibility that I'd somehow borrowed one but my helmet had stickers on it from a radio station so she knew that this was the helmet she had seen - and checking it now it had my name inside so it was clearly my helmet. Therefore I had lied about leaving my helmet at home. And she wanted to know why. The only explanation I had was the same one I had given my mother. That I had deliberately not worn the helmet as a dare. She asked me who had made the dare and I refused to answer. And so she decided that she would not offer me a way out - and wrote a note which she placed in an envelope. I was now to give both these notes to the Headmaster at lunchtime. She told me that I had permission to leave class 5 minutes before the lunch bell so I could use the toilet and made sure that I knew I had to line up outside the principal's office within two minutes of the start of lunch.
The time between recess and lunch seemed to stretch out forever - but it also seemed to pass way too fast. As we got closer and closer to lunch, I got more and more nervous and really started to think that I was the stupidest kid in the world for making this happen. I wanted to stop it, ten minutes before lunch - and it seemed really unfair to me when I realised that I couldn't. I felt like - I've made this happen. I should be able to stop it. But I couldn't - and that thought terrified me. Five minutes before the bell, I asked for permission to leave and was allowed to. I went to the toilet and then as the bell went, I headed to the office.
Today there were two boys there, also standing there with notes. One was older than me - fifteen or so, the other was twelve - his sister was in my class. Both stood there stoically, as did I, as people filed past us on their way outside with their lunch. Some people looked at us sympathetically, others smirked. I really didn't want to be there, at that point. After everybody had passed us, the younger boy started crying - just quietly - and I knew how he felt. The older boy didn't cry, but he kept biting his lip and his hands kept, unconsciously rubbing the seat of his pants.
A few minutes into lunchtime the door opened and the Principal stepped out. He looked at the three of us - then pointed at the younger boy who followed him in. The door was shut, but through the door I could hear a lot more than I'd ever heard from outside. There was a pause and then the talking began. The boy had teased a girl in his class - called her fat - and the Principal spoke to him calmly and quietly about why that was wrong. It was hard to hear the boy - his voice was much quieter - until he suddenly started saying 'No, please, don't...' just once. The Principal told him to stop his nonsense and he stopped instantly. I heard the instruction to bend over - and a thrill went through me for an instant - I'd wondered if that was really said. Then a swish and a crack and crying, and a second swish and a crack and more crying, and then a third swish and a crack, and pitiful sobbing. This really did arouse me - but it also made me shudder in fear. Two things at the same time, both made more powerful than the other. I looked at the boy still outside to see what he was doing. There was a tear rolling down his cheek at this point.
The door opened and the younger boy came out of the office, rubbing his bottom and sobbing his little heart out.
The Principal followed him out and gestured at the other boy - and then looked at me and said: "I'm sorry you are having to wait so long, but it's unavoidable." They both went inside and this time the Principal was not at all calm. "You again!" was the first thing he said - and it rapidly became clear that this older boy was being punished for bullying. Well, he got a taste of it, from the Principal I think - he tore strips off him for about ten minutes as I stood there getting more and more nervous - this seemed to have been a really bad idea and the thought of having to face an angry Principal made it so much worse. After ten minutes though the Principal seemed to bring himself under control - and I could hear a lot of crying coming from the room as he said "Bend over." This time there were six swishes and cracks and they seemed harder than the ones before. When the door opened and the two people emerged, the Principal had his hand on the boys shoulder and seemed totally calm. He told the boy he didn't want to see him in this situation again - but if the boy wanted to drop in to talk he could do so anytime. I'm not sure the boy heard. He limped down the hall.
The Principal invited me in, and asked me for my note. I passed both envelopes over and he opened them and read them. While he was doing so, I looked at his desk - I could hardly avoid doing so, because sitting on it was a very interesting object. The cane was much shorter than I expected it to be - I would say it was about sixty centimeters long. It was a brownish yellow colour, and was pretty smooth but had kind of knobs along its length that had been flattened out somehow. It was sitting on a large black and red notebook which had the words 'Punishment Register' on its cover - both the book and the cane looked quite old to me - I know why the book looked old - it was a bit tattered, but looking back I can't figure out why the cane seemed old. From what I can recall, after he'd read them, the conversation went like this - I'm not certain how accurate this is really, because I was very nervous and scared - and just a bit aroused at this point.
"Were you at assembly on Monday?"
"So you heard me talk about bike helmets?"
"And yet on Tuesday morning - on a dare - you rode into school without one?"
"Well, this is very serious. I cannot have rules like this blatantly ignored. I'm going to have to punish you quite severely. Tell me - have you ever been physically punished by your parents?"
"That's good." It seemed like a bit of an odd thing for him to say. He was silent for a second and then he spoke quite forcefully.
"Do you want to be caned on the hand or on your bottom?"
I almost passed out when he asked me that question. The Principal was, I suppose in his forties if I had to guess - old, but still young enough to be quite attractive. He was a nice man too - quite a lot of girls had crushes on him over my time at the school. I didn't but I could understand what they saw in him. What got me though was his using the word 'bottom'. It wasn't a word I was used to hearing from a male. Backside - that seemed like a male word to me. 'Bottom' just didn't - and when he said it, it seemed like such a sexy word - an odd thing to say, but it's the only way I can describe it. Not that he said it in any sexy way. It was said in an entirely neutral, entirely matter of fact way, as if this was naturally the entirely appropriate word to use. And I suppose it was. I hadn't expected to be offered this choice. I'd never actually heard of someone being caned on the hand at my school. I knew people were caned on the bottom. And that is most definitely what I wanted. "On my bottom, Sir." It was just as thrilling when I said the word - but it was also, once again, frightening - because I knew it was a closer step.
"Very well. Wait here."
He walked to the door and out of it. He returned after about thirty seconds accompanied by our Deputy Principal - a lady. She came into the room, while he waited outside and I wondered if she was going to cane me. Now, I didn't really care if it was her - but at the same time... well, I suppose I did care, I would rather be caned by him.
She leaned close to me and asked quietly. "Are you on your period?"
I shook my head. The Principal entered the room, and glanced at her and she shook her head. I guessed that was the reason for the offer of the hand as an alternative target. He stepped across to the desk and picked up the cane.
I'd expected to have something to bend over - a chair, or the desk. But I was standing in the middle of the floor, and so I just bent over and touched my toes. That seemed to me to be the most appropriate choice.
He stood quite close to me on my left side. I felt the cane placed across the seat of my skirt and then it wasn't touching me anymore. Then there was a line of pain carved across the centre of my bottom, and I was bawling like a baby. I stood up - I couldn't help myself. The cane hurt a lot more than I had expected. Then I felt the cane touch my bottom again - while I was standing - and I decided I had better bend over again. I did so, and again touched my toes. As soon as I did so, there was a second explosion of pain. This was a lot worse than the wooden spoon. Again I stood up. Again the cane touched my bottom. This time I didn't bend - I thought that if I didn't, he would wait. He didn't. This stroke hit me while I was standing upright and god, it hurt. I could feel the tears pouring down my face. The cane touched me again and this time I bent really in a futile hope to get away from it.
"That's three for not wearing a helmet. Do I need to give you one for taking the dare?"
"You won't take a stupid dare again?"
"Very well. Stand up."
I did so. I was crying like I'd never cried in my life. My whole bottom was burning in absolute agony.
He took my shoulder and lead me to the door which he opened and I walked through followed by him and the Deputy Headmistress.
"I hope I don't have to see you again like this." And then he let me go, stepped back into his office and closed the door. The Deputy Headmistress walked past me and headed towards her office. I went and hid in the toilets until the bell ended for the end of lunch.
The pain of the cane faded away in a few minutes. By the end of lunch, I'd managed to compose myself reasonably well and the rest of the day passed without real incident. A few friends expressed sympathy and asked me a few questions which I answered as well as I could. Then I rode home.
When I got home, I bypassed the kitchen and ran upstairs to my room. I felt the need for a shower - and so I went into the bathroom and stripped off, and stood looking at my bottom in the mirror.
It was marked with three quite angry looking lines - that were quite shocking but very arousing indeed. I touched them and they were slightly raised and there was what seemed to be bruising around the edges. I was becoming very aroused at this point but before I could do anything about it, there was a knock at the door.
"Can I come in?" It was my mother.
"I want to see the damage."
So I unlocked the door and let her in. She took me by the shoulder and turned me around so she could see my bottom. I expected her to be shocked, but her voice was calm.
"I expect that hurt."
"Hopefully that means it won't happen again. Now have a shower."
I did have a shower. But, of course, I did more than just that. This was intense. I certainly wasn't cured. But I decided I didn't really want to be.
But I didn't think I'd deliberately get myself caned again.
Being caned nondeliberately
|August 21 2007, 12:11 PM |
My second caning at school, and this time there wasn't anything deliberate about it. This story is probably somewhat embellished - I certainly can't remember exactly what was said at all stages, and so conversations are just similar to what was said. I do have a photocopy of the letter sent home to my parents and so that prompted a few memories of the discussions I had with my mother that would have otherwise been lost, so I think there's a good chance there are other things I have forgotten as well. I tried writing this totally as a list of the facts and it turned out very dull for me to write and I guess probably dull to read so while this isn't perfectly true, I think it's close enough and interesting enough to actually be interesting. At least I hope so.
This all took place when I was 15 years old and probably about six months after my first caning. I was attending a co-educational private school which was one of only a fairly small number of private schools still using physical punishment (which they referred to as 'traditional discipline') where I lived. At the time this happened, I was aware that the idea of physical punishment was sexually charged for me, and it had become a common part of my fantasy life. In terms of my real life... after I'd got myself deliberately caned at school the previous year, I'd decided that this wasn't something I would deliberately seek out again. I had enjoyed the aftereffects of it and I really liked the memory of it, but the actual experience had been considerably more painful than I had expected and I didn't really want it to happen again. And because I was well behaved at school and because the cane wasn't used all that often and really wasn't used on girls all that often, I didn't really expect it to happen again.
At home, I had managed to get the wooden spoon from my parents twice in the previous six months (not including the time I'd got it just before my first caning). It wasn't common but I don't think my parents wanted me to get the idea that I was too old for it. But I really hadn't done anything really seriously wrong at home either - getting smacked wasn't seen as a really serious punishment or anything.
A few weeks after the school year started, my whole class went on school camp - this happened every year, we just went away for a week as a class. It wasn't real camping in tents or anything like that - we went to a location in the bush or near the beach and stayed in huts and did activities like orienteering and ropes courses and bushwalking. I'm sure there was supposed to be an educational purpose to it, but we really saw it as a little holiday. We were assigned to rooms randomly among our sex. They did this at all our camps to try and break up friendship groups so we would get to know other people. And this particular year, I was put into a room with five other girls - I'll give them all names so we can keep them straight (and I will use the name Penny).
There was Kylie - Kylie was a rich bitch. She was mean and nasty, a bully really, who loved to give everyone she didn't like a really hard time. She was popular among some of the girls and a lot of us who didn't like her pretended that we did because we didn't want her to start picking on us. She was a ringleader, head of a little clique. At the other end of the social scale was Michelle. Michelle was a bit of a geek. She was pretty smart, but mostly what made her a geek was that she didn't fit in very well socially with other girls. She wasn't really interested in the same music as most girls, or clothes, or makeup, or anything like that. It was silly things too - well, they seemed silly at the time - like the fact she always used to wear a singlet, which everybody saw when we changed for PE, and she always avoided showering after PE. And she got away with it too. She lived with her father and brothers, and I really don't think she had anyone to tell her much about girly stuff (her contact with her Mother seemed limited), even if she had been interested. She really wasn't that different from the rest of us, but she was different enough that being stuck for most of five days in contact with Kylie - well, the teachers should have known better, I think, than to make that happen.
Besides Kylie and Michelle and me, there were three other girls in the room - Tasma, Jackie, and Chloe. They were... well, just ordinary girls really. Like me. Tasma was on the fringes of Kylie's clique and so they latched onto each other, but Jackie and Chloe and I were not really a part of that. We weren't in the popular kids, but we weren't unpopular either. This story though, mostly concerns Kylie and Michelle - and me, because I'm the one telling it. But my part in it was strictly supporting cast along with a number of others.
The camp was a pretty nice one. Some camps we went to were very rudimentary - old wooden huts deep in the bush. This one was new, and was near the beach. It wasn't luxurious - but there was carpet on the floor and the toilets and showers were actually in the same buildings as the rooms we were occupying. On some camps, we had to walk to and from ablutions blocks and I always hated that. This was much better in most ways - but the increased privacy was a problem in terms of teachers supervising us. To know what was going on in the rooms, they had to walk down a corridor past our rooms rather than just past huts, and the modern insulation probably made it harder to hear what was happening as well.
Trouble started the first day - we got to the camp site a little after lunchtime and after we'd eaten and unpacked (which mostly consisted of dumping bags on the beds to claim them, it was decided that we would go down to the beach for a swim.
The list of clothing we were supposed to bring on the camp was quite clear that girls had to bring one piece swimsuits. And that's precisely what I had - my mother had the habit of checking such lists and making sure what I took was appropriate. Everybody else had one piece swimsuits as well - except for Kylie. Kylie, being Kylie, didn't think rules applied to her and so she had a bikini - not an incredibly revealing bikini, but still she knew she was breaking the rules. But though our class teacher, Mrs Connery wasn't happy about this, I suppose she didn't want to make a major case about it. She told Kylie off, but I doubt she cared much. And she was allowed to wear it. When we got to the beach, Kylie initially tried to match up with her clique for beach games and was most disgusted when she was informed that all activities for the day had to be done with your room mates. Well, right from the start, she started teasing poor Michelle about anything that caught her fancy - Michelle's lack of chest development, and the fact that she... well, she really needed a depilatory if she was going to wear swimmers. This probably wasn't true - it was teasing. It wasn't nice to listen to Kylie - but it also didn't seem to be worrying Michelle too much. And Kylie couldn't be too obvious about it - Mrs Connery had her eye on her. And even at one stage came up and asked Michelle if everything was all right. Michelle said that it was.
That was just the start though. Over the next few days every time she had a chance, Kylie gave Michelle a hard time. Tasma backed Kylie up all the time - I think she saw a chance to get herself more into the clique. Jackie and Chloe occasionally made some comments as well - you didn't want to get on the wrong side of Kylie because then you'd be a target.
Me... I was probably just about as bad as Jackie and Chloe to be honest. But I honestly can't remember being like them. I think I've probably blocked it out a bit. Because I really feel deeply ashamed of the fact that I might have done what I remember them doing. Maybe it doesn't seem as obvious when you do it, maybe I was a little bit better. But if so, it won't have been by much. I didn't have the popularity to take Kylie on, and I wasn't brave enough to put myself at risk.
I don't want to go into all the bullying - most of it probably wouldn't sound that bad, anyway, and Michelle seemed to shrug most of it off. And maybe I was a little better than the others looking back on it, because she started to hand around me. And I supposed I tried to be a friend.
Thursday evening... I suppose that is the bit I have to talk about.
Our group went canoeing on the Thursday, and I shared a canoe with Michelle all that day. We talked a bit - not about anything important to me, I honestly can't remember what we talked about. We only got back to camp just a little before dinner, and those of us who'd been canoeing were sent to the cabins to shower. There was going to be a sort of a mini-disco on that final night of camp - nothing at all special, but most of us didn't really get the chance to do things like that very often - it didn't fit into the schools ethos.
Now this camp was a modern one and that meant that the shower facilities were a lot more modern than in most camps. In particular we had proper shower cubicles - cubicles with doors. On previous camps, we'd had a curtain at the most and often we hadn't even had that. We all grabbed a cubicle - Michelle was at one end of the row - and went in and started showering. White - or cream, perhaps - tiles and a pale coloured floor. There was a drain in one of the middle showers - all water from the end showers flowed towards that drain.
Midway through the shower, Kylie suddenly gave out a melodramatic scream. "Michelle! You're disgusting! You're weeing in the shower!"
Kylie was in one of the middle cubicles, I was between her and Michelle on the end. I looked down, and there was a yellow flow passing through my shower towards the centre - and it looked like exactly what Kylie was saying. But Michelle's voice came from the other side. "I am not!"
"You are, I can see it. It's either you or Penny? Is it you, Penny?"
"No." It certainly wasn't.
"It's shampoo. I've got yellow shampoo, and I've knocked it over."
"Oh yes, very likely."
"It's true!" Michelle's voice was obviously close to tears.
I heard the door slam open to my left - Kylie's cubicle - "OK, you little scrubber. Prove it. Show us your shampoo."
"Show us. Open your cube and show us."
Now - look, I had my doubts. To me, I thought that it was possible that for once, Kylie had a point. It did seem as if Michelle had done what she was being accused of - and I was standing in it. I also knew... I knew Kylie. She would tell everyone about this and I thought it was likely that after talking about it a few times, she'd stop saying it was Michelle that had done it - and it would suddenly be Michelle or Penny.
I wanted to see this shampoo. If it existed, well, we were both off the hook - because there was a perfectly innocent explanation. If it didn't - if she'd lied...well, that would prove she had a reason to lie.
So I pushed my cubicle open as well. And stepped outside to join Kylie. Yes, we were both naked - and I was dripping wet as well. Nearly all the girls showered together twice a week after PE, so it wasn't unusual to see each other naked. Michelle was one of the exceptions though. She seemed to be shy about her body - she'd even been changing on the camp by sneaking into a toilet cubicle.
"Open the door, Michelle." I wanted this solved as fast as possible.
"Give me a chance to get dressed."
The other girls had also joined us. "Come on Michelle, we've seen it all before."
"Just a minute."
Her towel was hanging over the top of her cubicle door - and Kylie reached up and grabbed it. Now she had no way of drying herself. If she was going to get dressed in there, she'd have to put her clothes on wet.
"Please give me my towel back!"
I was getting frustrated. I honestly felt that this was silly. Michelle brought a lot of her problems on herself, it seemed to me. Sure, there were some things she couldn't help - and none of what she did was an excuse for people teasing her - but she seemed to be her own worst enemy. We were all girls - her shyness was just giving people another excuse to tease her. On top of everything else.
"Michelle - come on. Just open the door and show us the shampoo. We're all girls, we've all got the same bits. You're just being silly. If you've got the shampoo show us."
There was silence - and then the handle was turned. And the door opened. And Michelle was standing there naked - with a large birthmark covering her stomach and chest.
She had the shampoo in her hands - and it was yellow. But nobody was looking at that.
"You're a freak." Kylie's voice was scathing. "You're an ugly freak." The look on Michelle's face was horrible as she slammed the door.
I stayed behind after the others had gone... I'd told her she was silly to hide her body. And I felt really responsible for what had happened. While I dressed I tried talking to her, but all I could hear was sobbing. I knew I was missing dinner - and I was hungry - and her constant crying got on my nerves. So eventually... well, I told her that if she didn't want my help, she could stay in the shower all night. I wasn't her babysitter, and if she was going to be such a baby that was her business. She should grow up.
When I got to dinner - I found that Kylie and Tasma had told everyone about the birthmark and Jackie and Chloe had backed them up. When I was asked, I said that yes, I'd seen it - what else could I say? Michelle didn't come to dinner. And she didn't come to the dance after. We should have told Mrs Connery what was happening, really - but then again, Mrs Connery should have noticed her absence. I didn't report it though - I assumed she would cry herself out, and sleep on it and we were going home tomorrow. And if had told and got Kylie in trouble, that would have made me a target. I'm not trying to avoid responsibility for what I did. I'm just trying to be honest about my feelings at the time. I should have told Mrs Connery, and ignored Kylie. But I didn't.
When the disco finally ended - and we went to our room - there was no sign of Michelle. And the room was a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere, bags were open. At this point, Jackie went running and got Mrs Connery. We went through all the strewn baggage trying to work out what was missing. All our money was gone. Her daypack was missing, along with clothing. Lots of Kylie's clothes were missing as well - we found them later stuffed down a toilet.
Mrs Connery questioned us - sharply and effectively - and we confessed about what had happened in the showers. We didn't talk about any of the previous incidents. But that was enough. The teachers organised a search along the main roads, and into the nearby town. And they found Michelle wandering about, half hysterical, trying to figure out where to get a taxi.
Mrs Connery came back and came into our room and told us that Michelle was safe - and that she was going to get to the bottom of this. Michelle didn't return to our room - I believe she stayed in Mrs Connery's room that night.
The following morning it was announced that rather than leave at lunchtime to go back to school, we would be leaving straight after breakfast. We were not popular with our classmates as that meant every group missed out on one of the camp activities. But, frankly, the anger of our friends wasn't our major concern. Mrs Connery had phoned the school and spoken to the Principal and they had decided to leave the investigation until we returned to school. When Mrs Connery told us this, she was very deliberate in emphasising that the Principal was extremely angry.
We went back on the buses - Michelle was put on a different bus from us. We had a three hour trip back to school and everybody on the bus knew that we were facing serious trouble when we got back to school. This was caning territory - and girls didn't get caned that often - so the boys especially were having a great time discussing what was likely to happen to us. Kylie was... well, she was attractive, a lot of the boys liked her - and they probably got a great thrill out of talking about her getting caned in particular. The rest of us... well, we were incidental compared to Kylie - I was of some interest, simply because I had been caned before - as had Kylie in Year 7, I found out - and some of the boys, more familiar with the cane than I, took particular pleasure in telling me that if the Principal had to cane someone a second time, he really caned them very hard. When we got back to school, the five of us found ourselves taken to an empty classroom fairly near the Principal's office. Michelle was taken off by herself - I found out later to be interviewed by the Principal, Mrs Connery, and our Year Coordinator, Mr White, about exactly what had happened.
We were left sitting in that room for over an hour - Jackie, Chloe, and Tasma kept asking Kylie and me what the cane was like, but beyond saying that it hurt, I really didn't know what to say - I certainly wasn't going to risk talking about it openly, given my sexual interest in it in case Kylie picked up on that. Kylie didn't talk much about it either. She said that it hurt, but it wasn't really that big a deal. Sitting in that room, with time to think... well, I was scared. My caning the year before had hurt and I was afraid of it. But at the same time, I was, I suppose a bit excited. But I was also really ashamed at the situation I was in - and I knew something that Jackie and Chloe and Tasma probably didn't. That your parents found out if you were going to get the cane. And my parents had extremely strong views on bullying.
My parents believed in physical punishment - normally administered with a wooden spoon on the seat of my briefs. It was enough to hurt me perfectly effectively for their purposes - but it didn't do any long term damage. But a couple of years earlier, my older brother had come home from school with a note that said he'd been bullying somebody and he hadn't got the spoon on his underpants which had been normal for him as well. Instead he'd got a proper belting - with a belt - across his bare backside. He'd screamed for mercy as it was happening - and it was a very scary experience even for me. And it looked like I was going to be bringing home a similar note - and I was terrified at the thought of a belting like that. I was somewhat excited by the thought of being caned again, amidst the fear - but that type of belting... that didn't excite me at all. I probably had the feelings for that that my parents would have said I was supposed to have! The belt didn't injure my brother or anything - I should say that. My parents were never brutal.
When the teachers finally came in, the Principal sat down at the desk at the front of the room. The other two teachers sat down at pupils desks as we were doing as he shuffled through the papers he'd brought with him.
"Right. I've spoken to Michelle and I have to say that I am absolutely disgusted with all of you. Bullying and teasing are not acceptable, and given how long you have all been at this school, you should know that. Here and now is your one chance to speak in your own defence. And I would warn you that if you don't have a defence, then your best course is absolute honesty. Whatever you have done already is done already - and you are going to be punished for it. Dishonesty now will simply lead to more severe punishment. Total honesty now - facing up to what you've done in a way that convinces me that you understand what you've done - might lead to some degree of leniency."
"Kylie Gilroy first - according to Michelle, you constantly teased her about her appearance while you were on camp, you made fun of her... stage of development, you made fun of her supposed lack of physical hygiene, you made some very inappropriate comments about her body hair, you falsely accused her of urinating in the showers, you forced her to expose herself to you by taking her towel, and then you told everybody that you could that she had a birthmark - knowing that this would embarrass her. Is this a fair summation of events?"
"Yes, Sir - except..."
"I thought she had peed in the shower, Sir. I really did."
"I see - well, that hardly matters compared to anything else. Is the rest accurate?"
"Very well - thank you for your honesty. Tasma Ende. According to Michelle, you were involved in all or nearly all of the things that Kylie initiated? Do I need to go through them again?"
"Well, is it true."
"Thank you for your honesty. Penny Jordan."
"According to Michelle, you were involved in some of the general teasing that Kylie and Tasma have already admitted to, and specifically you forced her to expose herself, pretending to be her friend - and then you called her an immature baby because she was upset about what had happened, and told her to grow up? Is this accurate?"
"No, Sir... I didn't force her to expose herself. I told her to come out because I thought that was best. I really did, Sir. I was trying to be her friend."
"But were you involved with some of the teasing? And did you call her those names?"
"So is it mostly accurate?"
"Thank you for making that clear. Chloe Thomas - according to Michelle, you were involved in some of the general teasing that the others have admitted to, and you told some boys about her birthmark. Is that accurate?"
"Thank you for being so straightforward. Jacqueline Ward - the same applies to you. Involvement in the general teasing - do you agree?"
"Thank you girls, for not making this any harder than it needed to be. Now, I'm sure you know what is going to happen - you will be caned on Monday. For now, I'm going to give you the notes that you need to take home to be signed by your parents."
I heard Chloe, sitting next to me, groan.
"I also want you to consider of how much worse the consequences of what you did could have been. Michelle was extremely upset. She could have done far worse than just run away. I hope you will all apologise to her for your behaviour - I can't and won't force you to do so. You'll have to make that decision for yourself. Come up and get your notes."
He sealed them in envelopes before he came them to us and wrote our parents names on them.
"Make sure you get them signed and bring them back on Monday. My office at lunchtime."
Mr White spoke up. "Actually, here at recess, first."
"Very well - Jackie, Chloe, Tasma, you can go and join your classmates - Penny and Kylie wait here for a moment." The other three girls went while Kylie and I stood waiting.
"I've caned both of you before. Now I want you to understand something - the first time children are caned, they are often very scared of the unknown before the caning takes place. You two have been caned before, so perhaps you feel that you know what to expect? Well, let me tell you this. I can cane much harder than I did this first time I caned you. Don't think that you have any idea of what is going to happen to you on Monday - because you don't. That's all. You can go."
I went - straight out the door and straight down the hall to the girls toilets where I locked myself in a cubicle and masturbated. All the fear of what my parents would do to me. The fear of the cane as well - were far less important at that moment compared to the feelings that that last statement had aroused in me.
Soon after I was done, all the fear returned. But that... that was incredible.
I spent the rest of the day in my class doing free activities - we were home from camp early so we were allowed to read, or play games just to pass the time. Michelle was in one corner of the classroom. Her eyes were red, as if she'd been crying. Chloe actually spent the afternoon crying, but the teachers didn't say anything.
Just before the bell went we retrieved our bags from where they'd been left and I lugged mine to the gates. My father was picking me up - considering the amount of baggage I had I could hardly ride my bike. And also sitting there waiting was Michelle - she was being picked up from there as well.
"Look Michelle... I've got to say, I'm really sorry about what happened on camp. I shouldn't have called you a baby. I should have stood up to Kylie."
"That's OK - I hope you're not in much trouble."
I pulled the note from my pocket where I'd placed it. "I am a bit."
She reached inside her coat and pulled out an envelope. "Snap."
"You're in trouble?"
"Yeah. I shouldn't have run off. And I shouldn't have stolen everybody's money. And I should have told Mrs Connery what was happening."
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I mean I don't want to get caned - but I'm not complaining. They're right. You're right too. I do need to grow up."
My father pulled up. "I have to go."
"See you Monday."
I loaded up my bags and got into the car. Dad asked me about camp - and I decided to delay telling him about certain details. I told him it went OK. On the way home, Dad revealed that he was going away on Sunday for a couple of weeks - work took him away periodically - and when I heard that I decided that I would delay handing over the note to my mother until my father was gone. I knew he'd find out eventually, of course. Mum would not keep this secret. Mum and Dad probably thought I was tired out from camp. Or getting sick over that weekend. I wasn't exactly in a happy mood. And I had to bribe my little brother not to tell Mum what had happened - news had got around the school. My little sister was young enough that it hadn't percolated down to her level.
Finally on Sunday evening, after Dad had left, I faced the music.
"Mum, I have a note from school."
"Oh?" I handed it over - it wasn't that unusual for me to fail to discover a note until I was packing up my homework on a Sunday night. She opened the envelope and began to frown as soon as she started reading. As she read her eyes flashed and her lips became set very hard. She was obviously getting very angry. Not surprisingly. When she had finished reading, she passed me the note - and pointed at the section which described my offence. I have a photocopy of the note, so I can quote the charges precisely:
Teasing and bullying another girl while on camp. Your daughter was one of a number of girls involved. Her general conduct during the camp was also rather poor.
Besides this handwritten section, the note was a form letter - it was an 'Authorisation for Corporal Punishment'. It laid out the schools policy on corporal punishment and told my parents it had been decided to cane me. They had to sign the form - both parents if possible, one would do - but if they didn't, I could be expelled. Very ominously there were two boxes - one of which was to be ticked if the school wanted my parents to reinforce the punishment at home. The other to be ticked if that was not considered necessary. The first time I was caned, the second box was ticked - but my mother had given me the wooden spoon anyway. This time, the first box was ticked - the school wanted my parents to back them up.
"Penny - did you do these things?"
"I don't think there was anything wrong with my general conduct..."
"That's like arguing about whether the getaway car ran a red light Penny. Did you tease and bully another girl?"
"Michelle. That mouse? Oh, Penny."
"It wasn't just me, Mum - it was Kylie and..."
"Kylie Gilroy? You went along with her while she picked on Michelle?"
"I am so disappointed in you, Penny. I am so angry at you. And you left this until your father was gone, didn't you?"
"Why? Do you think I can't use the belt?"
"Oh God, NO, Mum. Please, not the belt."
"That's what we did to your brother isn't it?"
"Should I treat you differently just because you are a girl?"
"No, but please, Mum, I can't stand the belt. I can't take the belt."
"Penny, this isn't about what you think you can stand. Or you think you can take."
"Please." I was crying - and whining.
"What did you do?"
I told her everything. I can't remember exactly what I said, or even close to it. I just know it was a total confession delivered in tears to a mother who showed not the slightest sign of sympathy. When it was done, though... she walked to the kitchen drawer and pulled it open and took out the wooden spoon. I have never been so relieved in my life to see that spoon.
Whenever she gave us the spoon once we were tall enough, it was always while we bent over the kitchen counter. She tucked the spoon under her arm as she undid my jeans and pulled them down. Then she pulled down my briefs exposing me to her. I hoped my little brother was upstairs. On only one previous occasion had she used the spoon on my bare bottom.
"Next time, it will be the belt," she said as she pushed me over the counter. She delivered hard and fast twelve smacks with the head of that spoon to the left hand side of my bottom. It hurt a lot and I made no attempt to avoid crying. When she was done, I heard her speak.
"Go back and watch television, Chris. Your sister has been very naughty."
And I cringed when I heard that. Then another twelve smacks with the head of the spoon on the right side of my bottom.
"There'd better not be a next time, Penny. Now go to bed - I don't want to see you until breakfast."
I pulled up my briefs and my jeans and held them up as I went up the stairs. I got undressed straightaway and straight into bed, and tried to rub away the pain. I fell asleep eventually and was woken by the alarm.
I showered then, and examined my bottom in the mirror. There was some bruising on the right hand side of my bottom - not a lot, but some - and I tried to imagine what it would look like by afternoon. I dressed in school uniform - summer uniform - and put on the thickest pair of briefs that I had. Unlike my deliberate caning the year before I didn't want to feel this one anymore than I had to. When I went downstairs, Mum was cooking me breakfast. She always cooked us breakfast the day after she'd smacked one of us, and I was reassured by the smell. But as she served me, she still looked very cross.
"Mum... are you all right?"
"No, Penny, I'm not all right. I'm still very upset with you, I'm very angry and I'm very ashamed. But I will get over it, Darling. This is my problem, not yours. You've misbehaved, you're being punished for it. That should be the end of it. It will be - soon, I promise. Now I'm driving you to school today. Your letter is signed, it's on the counter. And I will pick you up this afternoon and by then, hopefully, I'll be OK. For now eat your eggs."
I ate my breakfast and eventually got in the car with Mum. She drove me to school and dropped me at the gates.
"Oh, give me a kiss, Penny."
I did so. "You are a very naughty girl, Penny - but I love you."
"I'm sorry, Mum."
"So am I. Now go, before I get cross again."
The day was a bit of a blur. I had lessons, but I had a hard time concentrating. And at recess, I went along with the others to the classroom - Kylie looked very surprised to see Michelle there. Jackie, Chloe, and Tasma, I think had already spoken to Michelle.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice was very flat.
"What do you think? I'm going to get the cane."
"What? That doesn't make any sense!"
"Oh... well, I'm sorry you are going to get the cane. That's really unfair."
Kylie looked out the window, away from Michelle.
"I'm sorry... about the other stuff too."
"I mean it."
"I believe you."
Everyone went silent. As we waited. Chloe spoke.
"Did they tick the box on your forms? The one about your parents reinforcing things?"
We all nodded - except for Michelle. "No, they let me off that bit. What happened to you?"
Chloe spoke: "Well..." she flushed... "My father spanked me. I must be the only fifteen year old in the country who still gets their bottom smacked at home."
"Hardly!" I was speaking. "I got the spoon - and almost got the belt. I think parents who send their kids to a school with the cane aren't exactly up to date on modern child rearing!"
Jackie spoke quietly. "My parents just talked to me."
"What, a lecture?"
"No, they just talked."
Kylie was incensed. "Well, that's unfair. I'm grounded for three months. God, I wish my parents smacked me."
"I wish mine didn't." This came from Tasma. "My parents are like
Penny's - I don't think our wooden spoon has ever been used for cooking."
Discussion died down at that point and after a few minutes, Mr White, our year coordinator came in with the female Deputy Principal.
"Right, girls, do you all have your letters?"
We indicated that we did. Mr White pointed at Jackie and Chloe. "You two, bring them here."
They both walked up. He took the letters. "Right, you two can go. Consider this to be your one and only warning."
"We're not getting caned?"
"Not this time."
"But that's not fair!" Chloe almost exploded.
"Would you rather be caned?"
"No, Sir, I mean... my father... well, he spanked me for this - and Jackie got off with nothing!"
"Really?" Mr White looked at Jackie. "Is that the case?"
He handed back her letter. "In that case, you see the Principal - and I will be writing to your parents to remind them of the conditions of enrolment in this school. Chloe, you can go." He cast his eyes among us. "Did any of the rest of you get away with it? Besides you, Michelle."
Kylie spoke quite quietly. "My parents didn't hit me, Sir."
"Did they punish you?"
"That's all right then - it's up to them how they reinforce the school's punishments." He got up and walked out the door, leaving the Deputy Principal in the room.
"All right, Girls. I need to know - are any of you on your periods?"
Tasma raised her hand hesitantly.
"In that case, Tasma, when the Principal asks you whether you want to be caned on your hand or your bottom, please say hand, to avoid embarrassment. The rest of you will have the choice. See you all at lunchtime."
And so at the start of lunchtime, we found ourselves lined up outside the Principal's office. We were the only ones there to be caned that day, and I assume the others felt as nervous as I did. None of us were crying, but I was certainly close to it.
After only a minute or so, the Principal opened his door. Through the door, I could see the Deputy was already present. He looked along our line - and pointed at Michelle. She followed him in. I could hear much of what was said.
"No matter how much you are bullied, Michelle, you can't go around putting yourself in danger in the way you did. And we can't tolerate stealing - I know you planned to give the money back, but that is what taking without permission is. Now if you are bullied again, you should tell us about it. If you don't do that, we can't help you - and I don't want you to have to go through this again. Now - do you want to be caned on the hand or on your bottom?"
"My bottom, Sir."
"Then bend over."
There was a pause of a few seconds and then there was a swish and a crack and a cry of pain.
"Under the circumstances, I think that will do."
The door opened and Michelle stepped out rubbing her seat, with one hand and her eyes with the other. The Principal pointed to Jackie. She went in.
"All right, Jackie. I'm going to give you a choice. You can go home this evening and see if your parents have decided to punish you - I will phone them and explain the situation - or you may simply be caned now."
"Caned now, please."
"All right. Jackie - I believe you only went along with what happened because you were afraid. But fear is not an excuse for bullying. You should have gone to Mrs Connery if there was no other way of avoiding such a choice. But first of all, you should have just walked away."
"Do you want to be caned on the hand or the bottom?"
"On the hand, Sir."
"I see. Are you left handed or right handed?"
"Right handed, Sir."
"Please put out your left hand.... palm up. It's probably easier if you close your eyes, Jackie."
A swish and a crack. And a squeal. And next to me, Tasma began crying.
"Hand back up, please. Keep your eyes closed. Good girl."
A second swish and another crack and a chocking coughing sound.
"Put out your right hand... that's right."
A third swish and and a third crack and a lot of crying.
"That's it. Come along."
The door opened again and Jackie came out crying and rubbing her hands together. The Principal pointed at Tasma. She walked into the room very slowly.
"Tell me, Tasma. Is popularity worth this?"
"Well, at least you've learned a valuable lesson from all of this then. Your behaviour was awful on that camp. Bullying another girl to make yourself look good - deplorable. Now do you want to be caned on your hands or your bottom?"
"Put out your left hand. That's right. It's easier if you don't watch."
A loud, short swish and a loud crack of the cane. And a shriek of pain.
"Hand out again."
Almost instantly a second crack. And the sound of a thoroughly repentant girl.
"Other hand. Keep your eyes closed."
A crack. A shriek. And then almost instantly a second crack and a scream.
And again the door opened and Tasma came out her face screwed up with pain, and her hands tucked in under her arm pits. The Principal pointed at me, and I forced my legs to move.
As I entered the room, he took my note from me, and pointed to the middle of his floor. The cane sat on his desk next to an open book, with columns filled with handwritten text.
"This is the second time you've been in here, isn't it, Penny?"
"That isn't good, is it? And for bullying, which is even worse. Do you know, Penny, that Mrs Quinn, Michelle's mother, phoned me this morning to tell me that Michelle was upset that you were going to be caned, because you were her friend?"
"Well, she did. And yet, on Friday, when I questioned you, you agreed that you had teased Michelle, and that you'd called her a baby and told her she should grow up? Is that true?"
"But she is your friend?"
"You teased your friend. Penny that doesn't make things better. I hope you see that."
"I do, Sir."
"Do you want to be caned on the hand or the bottom?"
"The bottom, Sir."
"Then bend over."
I bent straight over to touch my toes. I heard him step around me and I felt the cane placed across the seat of my skirt. Then I felt pain. A line of pain. I stood up - and I was crying. The cane just touched my bottom again and I bent over again - and there was a second line of pain, even worse than the first. And again, I stood up - I just couldn't help myself. I've read stories of people staying down when they were caned - well, I couldn't manage that, and thank heavens, they didn't expect me to - if like in some stories, I'd got extra strokes for standing up, I'd probably still be there. Again the cane touched my bottom - and again I bent over. I wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. And again, the cane hit me and the pain was awe inspiring. The wooden spoon had hurt me, but this was on another plane. And again I stood up. He touched me with the cane again, but I couldn't bend. He tapped me with it - nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough that I felt it, and I forced myself down. As soon as I was down, the cane hit again and I realised that I was yelling. And standing upright and my hands were behind me and on my bottom as if I could pull the pain away somehow.
"Please move your hands, Penny - if you wanted them caned, you could have chosen that. I don't think you want both at once."
I moved my hands away, and realised they were shaking. I forced them in front of me and slowly bent over. I felt the cane placed on the seat of my skirt again and I... well, I whimpered. It sounded like a ridiculous sound even to me, and I was embarrassed at making it. Then the cane hit again and the pain was worse than ever. But... also... inside me... I realised there was something else. Amidst all the pain was the type of sensation that I got when I was masturbating... not orgasm... just the very beginning of the feelings... the first few times I masturbated I didn't climax - I'm embarrassed to say that it took me a few attempts to reach that stage... but the first time I did, a little before I did, I felt a tension for a second and from that point felt that I'd finally got the hang of it. That was felt again at this moment. Not orgasm, but the promise of it. That's the best way I can describe it. I also had it again later on, the first time a boy who knew roughly what he was doing put his hand down there.
I didn't want another stroke, despite this feeling. If I'd been asked if I wanted another stroke, I'd have said no. But I didn't have a choice and so as the cane tapped me again, I bent over again. And when it hit, there was the same tension amidst the searing agony. But it was over. I was lead to the door and past Kylie. And I walked gingerly up the corridor - and then much faster when I thought nobody was looking into the toilets and into a cubicle where I dropped my briefs and began masturbating as fast as I could trying to hold onto the pain and the tension.
I realised there was crying coming from the next cubicle - Tasma was in there - and I realised she could hear me and probably knew what I was doing but I was beyond caring. And her crying actually made it better.
I came - much more intensely than I ever had before. And then I began crying even harder than I had before as well. It was the end of lunchtime before I felt able to leave. And when I went back to class, and sat down at my desk, I could feel all the marks - not from sitting down so much, just I could still feel some pain from the cane and as I sat through that afternoon, I was feeling constantly on the edge of... well, sexual excitement. And it got a bit stronger everytime I looked at one of the others. And god, it was embarrassing because I was surrounded by boys in the class as well, and they kept looking at me and that made it much worse.
At the end of the day, I went out the gates where Mum was waiting for me. As I climbed into the car, she asked me.
"How many did you get?"
"Six of the best. Quite an achievement."
I looked at her and she was smiling. It didn't seem like she was still angry. When we got home and went through the door, she told me to come into the kitchen. Sitting on the counter - where she normally smacked me - was one of dad's thick leather belts. I stopped cold. Mum smiled. "You're not getting it. I just want you to see it. Because I am serious - if you get reported for bullying again, you will be belted. Now - let me see the damage the cane has done."
She made me lean across the counter - the way she did when she smacked me - and lifted my skirt and pulled down my briefs. She drew in a deep breath as she looked at my bottom - and I was concerned that somehow, maybe, she could see I was still aroused. She was my mother after all - an expert in me!
"Well, I'm sure that hurt, so we won't dwell on it anymore. Go and have a shower, Darling."
I went up to the bathroom and stripped off - and stood looking at my bottom in the mirror.
Half a dozen dark red lines, almost going to purple. I was shocked to be honest. Shocked that this was legal. They looked a lot worse than they felt. But they felt pretty bad.
But as I looked at them, and touched them and touched myself... I felt pretty good.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 21 2007, 1:35 PM |
These charming and well-constructed pieces by Halfpenny have previously been stored in our archives and we are extremely grateful to her for allowing them to be enjoyed by all our readers.
I expect Halfpenny would be happy to receive comments, but I must emphasise, as previously stated, any accusation, either direct or implied, to the effect that her stories are not true could well lead to difficulties which I prefer we should all be spared.
In the interest of completeness, the team here in Sussex would very much like to know the name of the school you attended. If you would prefer not to publish the information here, you could write to us at:
|This message has been edited by larry1951 on Jan 25, 2013 4:49 AM|
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 21 2007, 11:39 PM |
I found your posts very informative and interesting. I haven't
Read them before, so I fully appreciate your decision to post
On this forum. There are always small minded people who live in
Their own little world, seen nothing, done nothing who try to
Ridicule other people solely to boost their little ego's.
It was a pleasure and a breath of fresh air reading your posts.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 22 2007, 2:42 AM |
I really did enjoy your stories, they're well written and you certainly made them interesting. I can see how you've embellished them but that's fine with me.
I believe Lotta was tha main culprit in saying you were a man and the whole thing was untrue but she did say that about everyone who related a story here, it was just a ritual with him/her. I don't condemn anyone for doubting a story or the gender of it's author but I do object to them condemning someone out of hand without giving any reason for doing so.
Thanks very much for a good and thought provoking read.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 22 2007, 11:49 AM |
Just posting this here as well, so it's in both the relevant threads.
I expect Halfpenny would be happy to receive comments, but I must emphasise, as previously stated, any accusation, either direct or implied, to the effect that her stories are not true could well lead to difficulties which I prefer we should all be spared.
I was surprised by that post and have been trying to work out what is behind it. It's not something I want. I think people should be able to question what I've said and ask questions, which I may or may not answer as I choose. Some things I am prepared to answer, others I am not.
The only thing I can think of that could be behind it is when my stories were posted here without my permission I complained and I threatened legal action and a potential attempt to have the forum shut down. But that was virtually entirely based around the fact that my copyright was being violated, and my intellectual property stolen. I was very annoyed at my sex being questioned, and being accused of lying is also somewhat annoying, but I'm certainly not interested in getting the forum shut down, or in a lawsuit over questions or accusations. The only issue that would worry me to that extent is the copyright issue and as I have now posted my stories myself here, that is now a non-issue. I really don't see any reason why questions and comments shouldn't be allowed. But I suppose that is ultimately up to the people running the forum. I will say that I have no intention of causing any problems if that makes a difference.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 22 2007, 9:20 PM |
You go into far too much detail-----
To be a man or a liar!
Having met several women in younger days who positively had to be scraped off the ceiling after my tender ministrations as foreplay, it's nice to hear the younger generation is still capable of being turned on by it!
If I do get out to Oz eventually, we might just have to meet up!!
But I prefer smacking over the knee to using the cane-still, if you don't live in Quuensland, we would have a choice!!
|August 23 2007, 2:00 AM |
Steven M, I think someone needs the cane from Pauline Hanson for their spelling errors!... over here we spell Queensland aka Land of the Redneck with one 'u' not two.
If you were in Redneckville you would be arrested by DS Bob, tried and sentenced to a flogging with a wet tram ticket for your blasphemy. And stop licking cane toads please. They are affecting your motor skills.
Re : Halfpenny's stories
|August 23 2007, 11:46 PM |
Looking back now, do you regret getting yourself that first caning. Or do
You consider the experience well worth the discomfort you suffered.
The school principal seemed reluctant to want to use the cane on you
The first time, thats the impression I got from your post.
The two slipperings I received at senior school the teacher really enjoyed
The event. The first when I was 12 I was quite naive, the second at 14 I was,
Shall we say a lot more street wise, I knew exactly what he was about.
He probably got some form of sexual gratification from it, but I have no Proof.
My wife also was slippered by her headmistress, she told me how much her
Headmistress seemed to enjoy every second of it.
I would like to ask the subscriptions manager why Danny has a red ring
Round his name, I've never read a post where he has called anyone a liar,
He is always polite, it seems a little over the top in my opinion.
|August 24 2007, 12:54 AM |
Penny. I was interested in your account of the Principal's secretary discreetly asking you if you were "on your period", before your caning. Forgive my ignorance of the female condition, but is there any reason why a girl "on her period" should not be caned on her bottom? Would there be any additional adverse consequences if she were? (other than a sore bottom, which she would get anyway).
|Mike from Oz|
|August 24 2007, 1:25 AM |
Halfpenny, you e-mailed me on two occasions the first time you posted your story. I have no intention of revealing the content of the e-mails but I do have a question for you.
Why did you tell me the name of the school? I already had an incling that it was the same school I was thinking of. As a matter of privacy I will not be revealing the school here.
Going by your accounts and time lines, I believe the Headmaster may have been awarded the AM (Australia Medal, for those unfamiliar with the initials) in 2004.
I have also come across two people who have involvement with the school. One being my part time boss who has three children there, and thee other, my Physiotheripist who attended the school along with his sister around the same time you were there. He and his sister are A little older than you.
I did speak to him in general terms about the school and his accounts differ to yours on many levels. Perhaps different rules for different years? He said he does not remember a licence for riding bikes to school and he rode there himself. I am only reporting what he told me.
In regards to the Headmaster, as you did not name him or provide initials as some people do, it is hard to determine whether this man is the same person who received the AM. Unfortunately, I was unable to find any information relating to the AM itself. I can only therefore deduce that it was awarded for something he did in the Education field.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 24 2007, 7:26 AM |
My wife also was asked if she was having a period by her headmistress
Before she gave her the slipper, I did ask her why but she didn't
Really give me a answer. She may have thought the reason was obvious
But being a man we don't always understand.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 24 2007, 10:14 AM |
Why did I tell you the name of the school? From what I can remember, there were a few reasons.
The first is that from reading other posts you have made to the forum, you seemed to me to be a person who was willing to actually look at and consider the merits of what somebody was saying, rather than reflexively rejecting out of hand anything that didn't fit into your own narrow world view. At the time, given the behaviour of some (well, one) other person on this forum, that was a breath of fresh air, and I guess I felt it deserved some consideration.
The second is that the name of the school really isn't that big a deal. The fact that the cane was used on both boys and girls at that school at the time I attended it is fairly well known. Unlike some schools, they never sought to hide the fact. It even appeared in coded form in some of the schools advertisements ('a traditionally disciplined school'). I have seriously considered making the schools name public a few times, but what stops me is the fact that my stories might allow some of my friends to be identified if the school was named. It might allow me to be identified as well, and to be honest, I wouldn't much like that either, but if it happened, I'd only have myself to blame, I'd be responsible. I don't much want to be responsible for them being identified though. For me, these memories are ones I view with some nostalgia and fondness. I would guess that they are more likely to feel they are highly embarassing, and things they would like to forget. Still, identifying the school in a private mail to somebody who seems trustworthy doesn't seem at all likely to have put them at risk.
Thirdly, if I am remembering who you are correctly, you were posting some statements about what schools did and didn't do that I felt were based on the idea that the school I attended was a fairly typical, fairly normal school, and I think, as a proud ex-pupil of the school, I might have actually been a little miffed at the idea the school was like most other schools (not an attractive trait, perhaps, but I do have a bit of the snob about me).
Going further into your post, the man who was my Headmaster at school is, in fact, now walking around with the letters AM (Member of the Order of Australia) tacked onto the end of his name. I've checked out the Australian honours website - it was awarded for services to education, in particular, his time as Headmaster of my old school, and his involvement with independent schools more generally.
As for the accounts of others who attended differing from my own, maybe that comes down to differences in dates, and ages. I am certainly unsure when the bike licence was introduced. It may have been a new innovation in my time. The 1990s were a period of change for the school, so, for that matter, has the period post 2000. Some things may have changed quite rapidly, or not. I really only saw it from the perspective of one point in time.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 24 2007, 10:24 AM |
Do I regret getting that first caning? Yes, and no, is the only answer I can really give.
I would have really regretted it, I think, if I had gone through school without being caned, and at the time I engineered that situation I believed that the only way I would ever get caned was by doing that - I really believed I was too well behaved to ever do anything that would get me caned. Subsequent events, the incident at camp, showed I was wrong about that. If I had had any way of knowing that was going to happen, I wouldn't have created the first situation, and when I remember what happened, part of me does wish the second occasion had been my first time.
But it's not a major regret. I do enjoy the memory.
I really don't think the Headmaster liked using the cane. I really do think it was something he did because he felt he had to, especially when it came to girls. From what I have been told, he was brought in as Headmaster when the school was changing from girl only to co-ed and believed the cane was needed to deal with boys, but only agreed to the caning of girls as well because it was very important to the school that there was a genuine equality between the sexes. So he did it when he had to, but only if he had to. That's my feeling anyway - others disagree.
The idea he may have enjoyed it is, to be honest, one I don't even like to think about. But I really don't believe it, anyway.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 24 2007, 10:33 AM |
I honestly don't know the reason for the question. The only thing I have ever been able to come up with has to do with the placement of certain feminine hygiene products, and the risk of them being moved somehow, but it really would seem to me to be a very slight risk with the type of things we're talking about.
It could just have been somebody's peculiar sense of delicacy - maybe the Headmasters. I don't know. I just know what they asked.
|Miek From Oz|
|August 25 2007, 2:56 AM |
Halfpenny, thank you for the reply. I feel that I need to respond to a few points which I do without prejudice.
I wouldn't worry of being identified on this forum. There aren't may Australians on this forum by the look of it. We do have a Friends Reunited website which is a local one but I have never seen any CP stories on the site. The reason for this I feel why we don't have a similar forum is that most Aussies don't give a rat's bottom about this topic. Football, meat pies, kangaroos and Holden cars! That seems about it!
It would be very unlikely someone you know or went to school with would be here going on the amount of Aussies who post on the forum. Apart from you and I, there is the "Doctor" and Dean Clarke, and that's about it unless there are some still hidden away in the woodwork we don't yet know about.
Of the issue in naming schools (Australian ones in particular) I believe that when someone names a school it makes the post more credible. Take a look at old posts here and you will see where people either know of the school, went there themselves or had friends or relatives who attended the particular school mentioned. It also sparks more possitive replies.
Regarding posts, replies etc, I believe there is an element of fact as much as I believe there is an element of fiction. If I was contemplating a fictional story, and yes, I am guilty of conspiring with another member who shall remain nameless, in an April Fools post earlier this year, I would inform members that it was a fictional story written for the enjoyment of the members. As far as I know there are no rules against this.
I emphatically believe a lot of people on this board are astute enough to spot something which is fiction.
I do get upset when I see members agressively attacking one another because they disagree with what a person has written. There are better ways of getting your point across without having to stoop to agressive techniques.
I think the old saying of "You can always stoop and pick up nothing" applies very well to this situation.
I also have no time for know all's-those who have never worked in a particular area but will tell you all about it. And I don't like people who are condescending toward others. Teachers are amongst these offenders. They forget they are talking to adults and not children.
This is conjecture on my part as to why some posts appear to be more believable than others. It is the content of fact by way of names, dates etc which will give way to the difference of possitive or negative replies.
I agree with some of the members in saying that your post was appreciated for may reasons. At least you were pro active on the forum which counts the most. By contributing your post the board continues to operate. And by the amount of replies the post generated, it shows people are interested.
I appreciated your e-mails and information you supplied me in the past. You told me of your interest but at the time I was hesitant to reply. I have a lot of stories about my schools but haven't had the time to write about them here, and as I am an Aussie I feel that others aren't too interested in anything which didn't happen in their own back yard.
Re: Halfpenny's stories
|August 25 2007, 12:11 PM |
MIke I was amused by your comment about condescending teachers.
They cannot help it as its their way of life.
It has taken 3 years and many spankings to cure my ex teacher friend of this common trait. Regular top upaare needed to reinforce the message:-)
Of course many will immediately consider that the above is fantasy.
All credit to Halfpenny for taking the time to type the whole story out.
What is unique about Halfpennys punishments is the way in which the episodes where drawn out by the adults concerned. There was much prior disscussion etc. and the build up to the punishments was quite sadistic compared to the act itself.
It shows that the adults concerned were involved beyond normal reason in something that in England would have been a simple matter of being sent to the head, caned and then the punishment being recorded in some way. The whole thing being a simple common occurance that would not have been treated in any way special.
Perhaps it is a culture thing?
As for the matter of feminine times of the month, perhaps the use of the cane on the hand for girls was adopted to obviate the need for asking about such delicate matters.
Obviate, now thats a nice word.
|Mike From Oz|
Informating from Teacher relative
|August 28 2007, 1:16 AM |
Mimi, I tried to post some info for you in reference to your post but my reply disappeared into cyberspace it seems.
I spoke to one of my relations, a female, who started her teaching career in the early seventies. She actually did some teaching rounds at my school and I embarrassed thinking she might have told my class we were related but she didn't.
She worked in a girls school one time during her career and I asked her about her that the other day. I didn't want to blatently come out with my questions so I had to beat around the bush a bit. We talked about other things first and then I got round to asking her if girls were less difficult than boys to handle. She said they were the same and sometimes girls were worse.
She told me that teachers took care of most discipline problems in the classroom and around the school. She said that teachers were rostered to take detention classes, rotation for all staff was about once a fortnight.
She was the one who brought up the CP issue and I subtly mentioned about the girls having their cycles. Her reply was, it was not a consideration. She told me that CP was a mixture of application to the hands or the bottom and she said that if one thought about it, CP to the bottom caused no more of a drama for the girl than it would if she fell on her bottom during a Netball game or any contact sport game. She went on to clarify that remark by saying that the girls played Australian Rules Football which is a contact game and girls were knocked over during play.
On another note, I played in a band with a lady who had two teenage girls. She was a keen disciplinarian and I am sure she never thought about whether the girls were in their cycle or not. Her daughters were 13 and 15 years f age. Personally, I thought they were too old for this type of punishment but not so as far as their mother was concerned.
If they misbehaved, she applied a paddle vigorously to their bottoms. I witnessed the girls being punished a few times times over the years and it made me cringe. She hit harder than most of my old teachers did.
|Big John Peacehaven|
|October 1 2007, 9:24 AM |