A St Angela’s Story from Roué 11
Eileen Mandley was decidedly unhappy about it all. It wasn’t her fault that the wretched hockey ball had gone through a window. Of course the girls knew they shouldn’t have been practising where they were, but there isn’t a lot of time to spare during the lunch break. Virginia Craythorpe had been the one to actually do the damage and Mr Fowley was on the scene long before anyone could disappear.
Just like him, thought Eileen. He’d probably been watching hoping that something like this would happen. All six culprits were to be outside room 2D at half past four. Nor was that all for Eileen.
During the morning she had gone for a walk in the grounds with Sandra Bartlett. They had forgotten the time and in their hurry to get to the next class, Eileen cut across the grass. The rules clearly stated that everyone must keep to the paths, so Mr Archer was only doing his duty when he informed the headmaster of what had occurred. It resulted in a summons for Eileen to appear in the Head’s study at two o’clock. She was looking forward to two doses of the cane.
Precisely on time she knocked on the steely door, desperately hoping there would be no answer. She was disappointed.
Eileen stood in front of the desk, shoulders back, feet together and hands at her sides. The Head was never in any hurry where punishment is concerned. It was some minutes before he looked up.
‘Eileen Mandley, sir. You wanted to see me.’
He knew who she was and why she was there, really, but he felt it was a good thing to make the girl announce herself.
‘Ah yes. Mr Archer had a word with me about you. It seems you’ve been running across the grass.’
‘I’m very sorry sir. I was late for a class, it won’t happen again.’
‘Being late is your own fault. It is not an excuse.’
All hope gone, Eileen miserably watched the Head take his Punishment Book out of a drawer and place it on top of the desk.
‘Get yourself ready, girl. Four should keep you on your best behaviour for a while.’ He watched the preparation with interest.
Twisting round to reach the zip at the side of her skirt, Eileen slid it down and undid the button at the top of the opening. She lowered the skirt and holding onto the desk with one hand stepped first one foot and then the other out of its circle. Neatly folded, the skirt went onto the nearby visitor’s chair.
Slipping a thumb into each side of the waist elastic she pushed her knickers down. On the way she hooked into the leg elastic and the whole garment was left just above her knees. Straightening up she presented the picture of a very embarrassed young lady to the Head. She didn’t dare do anything with her hands except to put them back at her sides.
It doesn’t matter how many times girls have to stand like this, they never get over the indignity of it all. Above Eileen’s knickers were the welts of her stockings clasping tightly round her full thighs. They were held taut by the suspenders climbing up the white columns and across the bare expanse of her tummy to the suspender belt at her waist. Over that, a short well-filled blouse completed the picture.
The headmaster’s eyes returned to the centre of the picture. There he could see the mass of dark brown curls that she didn’t want to show to anyone. Not even her mum.
The Punishment Book was opened and Eileen stood waiting, wishing he’d get on with it. Even bending over would have hidden some of her charms. Name, form, offence and punishment were carefully entered in front of the anxious girl.
The Head rose to his feet and walked to a cupboard returning with the dreaded cane in his hands.
‘Touch your toes, Eileen. Right down, there’s a good girl.’ He patted her nervous bottom as she bent.
‘Feet apart.’ The knickers stopped her from moving them very far.
‘Knees straight. You will stay there, won’t you?’ It wasn’t so much a question as a promise of something extra if she failed.
‘Don’t forget to count.’
He raised the cane and the first stroke was on its way.
‘Ooooh oh. Two.’
‘Oh oh oh oogh. Th-th-th-three.’
The last harder than any of them.
‘Ung uunng ooh, no. Ooow. F-four, ooh, sir.’
The Head admired his handiwork awhile before allowing Eileen up. Well-trained, she had stayed bent and sobbing keeping her fingers on her toes.
‘That’s enough. You may dress yourself and go.’
Despite the smarting in her bottom and the longing to rub it away, Eileen pulled up her knickers and replaced her skirt as quickly as she could. Girls who spent too long sobbing and fussing were sometimes repositioned for an extra two strokes.
Half past four. A line of six young ladies outside the Punishment Room. The sign on the door said ‘engaged’ and they could faintly hear the ominous sounds of a cane being used inside. Swishes, thwacks, squeals and tears are the diet of 2D and rarely does it go hungry. Any chatter the girls might have had was stilled by the thought of what was happening to another tender bottom.
Mr Fowley arrived, complained at the lack of a straight line and disappeared inside. By then the waiting six were lined up against the wall and didn’t even get a glimpse of the occupants, although for the short time the door was open one of them could be heard sobbing her heart out.
A few moments later the door opened again and a small procession emerged. Leading it was Hazel Lysle holding her skirt in one hand and knuckling at a weeping eye with the other. Tear stains streaked her face. Holding her by one ear, Mr Moore propelled her through the doorway and along the corridor by hard smacks to the seat of her knickers with a tawse. They turned right and went out of sight but not out of sound.
Next out of the door was Mr Fowley who beckoned the six girls into 2D. Lined up with a couple of feet between each of them they listened to a long lecture on the evils of playing games in forbidden areas. They were also told that Hazel was being punished for laziness. She had been given twelve very hard strokes and when they had seen her, she was on her way to the gymnasium. There Miss Davies would be keeping her occupied for at least half an hour with a series of tough exercises. Probably without any clothes and certainly with a strap close behind her.
Out came the Punishment Book and one by one their names were entered.
Yvonne Willis Form 8A
Sylvia Pearce Form 7A
Virginia Craythorpe Form 8B
Eileen Mandley Form 8A
Peggy Canforth Form 8B
Allison Riche Form 8A
Even then Mr Fowley wasn’t ready.
‘I’m told there is a reluctance on the part of some girls to wear school knickers with their uniforms. There will, therefore, be an inspection before we go any further. Virginia, take your skirt off, put it on that bench and come here.’
As Virginia hurried to follow instructions, Peggy was cursing her luck. She had been hoping to get away with it. Although her knickers were the right colour and style they were made of nylon rather than cotton. The rotten blighter, she thought to herself. He must have been watching and knew what she had on underneath.
Mr Fowley kept his eyes on Virginia and waited for her to reach him. Taking his time and creating as much confusion in her mind as possible, he studied the front of her knickers. ‘Bend.’ She reached down for Mr Fowley to run his hands over the tightly stretched seat. Satisfied, he gave a sharp smack sending her back to the line.
‘Sylvia.’ No further instructions were needed. Another slap.
Peggy knew it was deliberate, being left until the end so that she would be the most worried.
She too took off her skirt and hurried to where Mr Fowley was standing. He looked at the knickers for some time with raised eyebrows.
‘Bend.’ His hand passed over the soft smooth nylon.
‘So, it was worth checking. Well, Miss, if you can’t wear the proper knickers you can go without them altogether. Take them off, they’re confiscated.’
Peggy’s knickers were removed and handed to Mr Fowley who put them in his pocket.
‘I’ll see you here again at nine o’clock tonight.’
‘But that’s supper time, sir.’
‘Yes, but I don’t think you’ll want anything when I’ve finished with you. Bend over.’
Peggy’s bottom was treated to half-a-dozen hand smacks leaving finger marks and an unpleasant warmth before she returned to her place. A line of six young ladies, five with their knickers on show and one without even that much protection.
Mr Fowley eyed them all for a moment.
‘Drop your knickers.’ Five pairs descended, but not far enough for the teacher.
‘Take them down properly.’ A further push and knickers were left somewhere between knees and mid-thigh.
‘Hands on heads, please. There now, that’s what I like to see. Ashamed of yourselves, girls?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the six dutifully chorused as one voice.
‘Quite right,’ and he walked along the front of them inspecting each girl from top to toe. Any tendency for a girl to bring her hands down or even to cross her legs had to be stifled. Round to the back where he found fault.
Smack! ‘Ooow!’ ‘Shoulders back, Alison.’
Smack! ‘Aaah!’ ‘Stocking seams, Sylvia. They’re not straight.’
‘Oh dear, and what’s happened to Eileen, then?’
‘Please, sir, the Head gave me four this afternoon.’
‘My goodness you are going to feel it on top of that.’
A miserable, ‘Yes, sir.’
Smack! ‘Eeek!’ ‘Don’t slouch, Peggy.’
Mr Fowley selected a cane from the rack and returned to the front.
‘You will all face that wall standing just as you are until I call your name. After I’ve dealt with you, go back to the wall in the same position. Now move!’
Shuffling as quickly as they could, the six lined up against the wall. None was to see another caned, only to hear the dreaded swishes and the pained yelps.
She came away from the wall and put herself nervously across the indicated stool. Six burning strokes descended on her plump quivering bottom. She was crying with the sting and humiliated by the way her legs and bottom had been flung around without any thought of the display she was making. Little mattered in such moments of anguish, but shame always followed.
Not that any of the others did better. All six wriggled and squirmed as the cane did its work only too well. At last a row of well-caned bottoms was lined up awaiting dismissal. Tears flowed down faces and hands longed to comfort smarting cheeks.
Poor Eileen. Her bottom showed the remains of ten scorching moments. If only... but at least it was all over. She thought of Peggy who wasn’t in their happy position. There was more to come for her. Serve her right. If she couldn’t wear the proper knickers she deserved all she got.