Story by R.T. Mason from Janus 41
Jill Fairfield gazed up at the tree with its pale green leaves shimmering in the sun. Seeing only the leaves and branches she could almost be back in England. Except it wasn’t an English tree but a Spanish one. Suddenly the foliage was blocked out by the face of Carmen leaning over her. A darkly pretty Spanish face. With black eyes flashing in amusement she repeated in her very good English what she had just said.
‘It is true, Jill. Of course we get caned at school.’
She laughed. ‘Also I can tell you that you will get it too when you come to my school. That is for sure. Because our Señor Guerrero makes sure he canes all the big girls and certainly he will not want to miss out with this beautiful English visitor.’
Jill produced a nervous smile. Quite possibly Carmen was joking.
It was a bright sunny May morning and they were in the garden of Carmen Ortega’s house in a small town in southern Spain, Andalusia. It was hot but not unbearably so, though certainly considerably warmer than it had been yesterday in Sussex when Jill had left to come here for a two week exchange visit. Both she and Carmen were 18 and in their last year at school and Jill was due to spend part of the time at Carmen’s school which was why she had casually asked about it.
‘Just like an English school, I expect,’ was the answer. ‘They are very strict for girls, to make them into disciplined young ladies. So like in England they are using the cane on the big girls. Very painful on a girl’s bottom. Just like in England, yes?’
Flushing, Jill said no, it was not just like in England, her school certainly did not use the cane. Carmen seemed disinclined to believe this. Was it not a well-known fact that the cane was freely used in England? Jill said that it might be a well-known fact but it wasn’t true. Not nowadays.
The dark eyes sparkled as Carmen bent over Jill again. ‘But you have had the cane, of course, Jill?’
Jill shook her head. Carmen gave a tinkling laugh. ‘What… what is it like?’ the English girl asked, still not sure if all this wasn’t a joke.
‘Oh of course very painful but also a bit exciting as well I should say. Taking down your knickers and showing a man your bare bottom is certainly a little bit exciting, don’t you think?’
Jill blanched. Bare! Carmen had a full firm figure, firmly rounded breasts and a generous-sized shapely bottom contained this morning in tight-seated slacks. Jill had a momentary picture of the slacks and underlying briefs lowered and Carmen’s full-cheeked bottom bared for the cane. It wasn’t possible, was it? And then, feeling a bit sick, Jill pictured herself in the same position. Her own bottom, not as big as Carmen’s for Jill was taller and slimmer, but nonetheless to imagine her own bottom bared for some male teacher’s cane… The thought was just too shocking to contemplate.
Carmen was now lying on her back again on the rug. In that very good precise English she asked, ‘What about your Dad, Jill? Does he not do something like that to his big daughter when she is naughty? The cane or perhaps the strap?’
Shivering slightly Jill said No. Nothing at all like that. Carmen thought this was very strange. All her friends were liable to some such punishment. Her own father, she said, favoured the strap.
There was that tinkly laugh again. ‘I should think that for sure he will want to give you it, Jill. Because it is agreed that when in each other’s homes we are to be treated as one of the family. Is that right?’
Jill didn’t answer. Carmen’s father, Señor Ortega, was tall and quite handsome in a Spanish sort of way. The idea of him using a strap on her was shocking and somehow sort of exciting at the same time. But it couldn’t happen, could it?
Suddenly Carmen was leaning over Jill again, the black eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘I am very shocked to hear what you say, Jill. If it is true now we know why you are not Great Britain any more. Here we all know that discipline is very necessary. So I think we will have to do something very quick about this bad gap in the education of Jill Fairfield. Yes?’
‘No!’ said Jill with feeling.
They sat in the garden for the rest of the morning, Jill putting on her bikini and venturing out of the shade for half-an-hour to start a sun-tan. Her slim shapely form was still pale because there had been no sunbathing weather so far this year at home. Carmen in contrast was a deep brown all over with the exception of the small bits covered by her bikini. At least Carmen had dropped the subject of corporal punishment, for which Jill was very thankful. Perhaps it had all been a joke.
After lunch Carmen said they could go for a bike ride. It seemed a good idea, it was hot but not impossibly so and Carmen had already borrowed a bike for Jill’s use. They set out in slacks and T-shirts, Jill with a white sun-hat on her blonde head. They rode for a couple of miles out into pleasantly wooded country; then Carmen suggested they get off the bikes and walk. They left them in a ditch and climbed over a wire fence. Up to now Carmen had been chatting on about the countryside and various features. Now she asked:
‘What is the English word when you go on a person’s land without his permission?’
‘Trespassing,’ Jill told her.
‘Yes. Well, now we are trespassing on a certain man’s land. He is called Señor Ricardo Garcia. Rather strict I should say about trespassers. Especially of course pretty female ones.’
‘We won’t get caught, will we?’ queried Jill.
Carmen gave her tinkling laugh. ‘Oh but we will! You see I phone him before lunch that this afternoon two girls might be trespassing in his woods. I expect we see him soon.’
Jill looked at her incredulously. ‘You what!’
Carmen put a friendly arm round her visitor’s waist. ‘It is for that bad gap in your education, Jill. Señor Garcia is quite a nice man. I expect he will first give us some pleasant refreshment at his house. And then naturally he will want to deal with those trespassers. Deal with their bottoms I might say. Is that exciting?’
Diabolical was the word for it as far as Jill was concerned. ‘I’m going!’ she gasped but Carmen, laughing, grabbed her. It was at once clear that the Spanish girl with her heavier build was stronger.
‘Don’t be silly, Jill. You are not afraid of a little adventure, I hope.’
Jill very definitely was but in any case at that moment a man appeared along the track. Carmen’s timing had been perfect.
Not tall but stocky, he was in shirt and riding breeches and high polished brown boots. Under a wide-brimmed hat was a brown Spanish face with a clipped grey moustache. He was perhaps 60. There was a quizzical look on the face as he approached.
‘What is this! Two girls trespassing!’ The tone was sharp but bantering; the command of English was evidently at least as good as Carmen’s.
Carmen fluttered her eyelashes. ‘Perhaps we are lost, Señor.’
‘Perhaps indeed. So it is the beautiful Señorita Ortega, and this must be also the English visitor. Equally beautiful as I see. The English Rose.’
Jill flushed. ‘I’m very sorry, Señor Garcia. I didn’t know I was trespassing. I think I’d better go…’
He showed white teeth in a grin. ‘But I also am sorry, Miss. Did not your friend tell you? Here we always must pay for something like trespassing. So you must both come with me. Eh Carmen?’
Jill gulped as she saw his hand reach out to openly take hold of Carmen’s bottom. A brown sinewy hand firmly groping the twin full cheeks in the tight slacks.
Carmen didn’t try to remove the hand. She simply said submissively, ‘Yes, Señor Garcia.’
It was only about half a mile to his house, a low white building set in lawns at the edge of the wood. Carmen had chattered on the way and was clearly excited. Señor Garcia didn’t say very much. As for Jill she still couldn’t believe it was happening, it must be a joke. But on the other hand once, on the way, Señor Garcia had casually placed a hand on Jill’s bottom, as he had earlier done to Carmen, although more softly. Jill had jumped away like a scalded cat. Carmen had laughed. Señor Garcia merely pursed his lips. Jill hated that sort of thing, a casual feel at her bottom. You got it on the bus to school sometimes when you had to stand and there was nothing much you could do as they could always pretend it was an accident.
The sun as they crossed the parched-looking lawn to the house was burning hot but once inside it was cool behind the shuttered windows. They went in a sitting room where their host produced iced drinks. They sat down.
Carmen said, ‘Jill says they do not have caning or strapping for girls in England, Señor.’
Señor Garcia raised his eyebrows and gave Jill a hot stare. ‘So? So your English guest will learn something then, Carmen.’
He got up from his chair and walked over to a cabinet. When he turned he had a leather strap in his hand. It was about two-foot long and split into two half-inch wide tongues. Jill’s eyes fixed on it in horrified fascination. He slapped it against the side of his boot with a loud thwack! and Jill’s stomach felt as if it had suddenly dropped through the floor.
‘Look… you can’t…’ she whispered.
Señor Garcia looked at Carmen. ‘Señorita Ortega: you will perhaps go first and show your friend?’
Carmen obediently got to her feet, her face flushed with excitement. Her hands went to the belt of her pale grey slacks and then to the zip at the side. In a quick movement the slacks were down round her knees. Her knickers were pink, like her T-shirt, tight over the swelling haunches. Señor Garcia took her arm and Carmen went forward two paces to the table. He pushed her firmly down over it, then muttered something.
Carmen’s hands came back, thumbs in the top of the knickers. Jill’s stomach gave another lurch as suddenly there was Carmen’s big bottom bare in front of her, two moons bearing the brief pale triangle from her bikini.
Jill looked away. Without warning or delay the strap had simply splatted in squarely across the swelling cheeks, producing a sort of grunt from Carmen. Jill felt a bit faint.
There was another sickening THWACK!... and this time a yelp from the Spanish girl. Jill looked, she couldn’t help it. There were wide red marks across Carmen’s big bottom which was clenching and writhing. In pain… or could it be something else?
The strap continued to rise and fall. With an intent look on his face Señor Garcia systematically covered the ripe cheeks and also the full upper slopes of Carmen’s thighs above the lowered knickers. Carmen was groaning and yelping and writhing her bottom. Jill watched, horrified but mesmerised. And was there also something else, a tingle of sexual excitement?
When the strapping finished Carmen stood up. She was breathing heavily with her face flushed dark red as her hands went first to her knickers and then the lowered slacks. Then both of them turned to Jill.
‘No!’ she yelped, but Carmen, laughing, pulled her to her feet.
‘You must, Jilly. You must be a brave girl.’
Jill struggled but there were now Señor Garcia’s strong hands holding her arms. Carmen got to work on the belt of Jill’s slacks. All at once the white slacks were down, to Jill’s knees, with a firm comely rump in pink-edged white knickers on display. Yelping in shock and anger she was frogmarched to the table, then stretched over it.
Carmen round the other side held Jill’s arms so she couldn’t move, only weakly kick her feet, as she felt her knickers being pulled down. Then the shocking, heart-stopping feel of a male hand on her bare bottom. Caressing, and intimately groping. The hand went away and there was a pause. Jill could hear her own breathing harsh in her throat and Carmen was saying something to her. And then…
She went all funny at that point. It was almost as if it was happening to someone else, some other girl called Jill Fairfield. She could feel the pain all right, an intense biting ache in her bottom, but at the same time she could see this other girl called Jill Fairfield held over the table, yelling out and jerking her bottom this way and that as the strap splatted down on those unprotected buttocks. Perhaps it was simply too much for her mind to take.
‘You made a lot of noise when he strapped you,’ Carmen said.
It was half-an-hour later and they were walking back along the track, Carmen with her arm around Jill’s waist. Jill was still feeling a bit strange with her mind not yet fully able to accept what had happened. Carmen was clearly still very excited. She suddenly moved off the track, taking Jill with her, to lean her back against a tree. Jill found herself pulled round face to face with her companion.
‘Was it exciting?’ Carmen wanted to know. Jill shook her head. Her mind was in too much of a turmoil to know if it was or not. And there were still all those hot and tingly feelings coming from her bottom.
‘It makes me very excited. Especially to see you get it, Jill. Señor Garcia is like an old bull, yes? How would you like that old bull on top of you!’
Jill didn’t think she would like that at all but Carmen didn’t seem to want an answer as she put her full-lipped mouth to Jill’s. An eager tongue pushed into the English girl’s mouth.
Nothing much more happened until the evening. Jill had been a bit shocked by Carmen’s sexy kiss but had not responded to it and Carmen had not done anything further, though there had been more excited talk of the strappings and Señor Garcia. But then at dinner Carmen, laughing, simply related to her parents what had happened. Jill was horror-struck and neither of the older Ortegas seemed to think it was the big joke that Carmen clearly did. Her mother went red in the face and Carmen’s father got very angry. He told her she had behaved very badly to their guest and sent Carmen up to her room immediately after the meal. He apologised to Jill for what had happened and shortly afterwards followed Carmen upstairs.
As Jill learnt later, when Carmen came into her bedroom, her father gave her another thrashing with his strap for what she had done.
‘I know why he is angry,’ said a chastened Carmen, sitting on Jill’s bed. ‘He does not like another man to strap you. As you are in his house he wants only to do it himself, except when you go to school of course.’
‘But I haven’t done anything,’ Jill told her.
‘It is not only doing anything much. Doing it to a girl or a woman is for a man to show that she belongs to him. While you are here my father thinks you belong to him. So he does not like to think that Señor Garcia has put a strap to your bottom and he has not.’
Not for the first time since getting to Carmen’s house Jill said with feeling ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ She didn’t consider she belonged to anyone, and even if she did…
‘You will see,’ Carmen told her. The Spanish girl put her arms round Jill and said they must kiss goodnight. It was another very sexy kiss from Carmen and she didn’t seem to want to stop. Breathless, Jill finally pushed her away.
‘We are going to be very good friends, yes?’ Carmen said.
Jill answered ‘Of course’ but wondered what exactly Carmen meant. She got into bed and lay awake for some time thinking about it all: Carmen and Carmen’s father and, not least, Señor Garcia and his strap. When she did finally get to sleep there were some disturbing dreams, of being caned and strapped by various men. In one part she had to strip nude in a room full of men and then had to bend over a sort of vaulting horse and be strapped by each one. It was very painful but fantastically erotic at the same time.
With her disturbed sleep Jill did not wake up until it was quite late and the sun was streaming in the window. As she gathered her senses Jill realised there was also something else. Señor Ortega was sitting on her bed, smiling at her.
That disturbing dream was still very real and she also vividly recalled what Carmen had said last night. Jill felt a tingle of fear mixed with excitement. Her body went tense under the sheets. Señor Ortega was a lot younger than Señor Garcia, he wasn’t an ‘old bull’, and Jill found him very attractive. The tingle of excitement increased as he said that Carmen and her mother had gone out. Jill’s body told her that something was going to happen.
It did. Señor Ortega stood up and, smiling, pulled the bedclothes off her.
Jill gasped with shock. For all he knew she might have been sleeping in the nude. In fact she had considered it with the warm nights but then decided to put her pyjamas on. They were pale blue cotton, quite tight. Automatically as the covers were yanked off Jill’s hands came across to cover her breasts and groin.
Señor Ortega laughed and took hold of one arm. ‘It is late, Jill. And I think the English is getting up early?’
She was pulled out of bed and Señor Ortega sat down on it again. With her head still in a daze Jill heard him say:
‘Take down the trousers. I must see your bottom. To see that Señor Garcia has caused no harm.’
‘No!’ she gasped. But he simply reached out and yanked the pyjama bottoms down, to her knees. A neat light-brown bush was briefly on show before Jill, with another gasp, cupped her hand over it. Señor Ortega gripped her arm and pulled her down, over his lap.
Dizzily, with her head down near the carpet, Jill felt the large male hand on her bare bottom. The hand patted and squeezed and stroked. It was impossible — yesterday Señor Garcia and now this.
From above her his Spanish-accented English: ‘I think there is no injury from our friend Señor Garcia.’ Jill was not being released though, and the hand went on fondling.
‘So now perhaps we have, what is it in English, a spank. Because when you are here, Jill, you must be like my daughter and here in Spain every big daughter must have something from her father. Some spank and also some with the strap. That is to make her always a good girl.’
And to ensure that Jill was always a good girl the hand started spanking. It wasn’t fearfully hard but it was mind-blowing nonetheless. Señor Ortega’s male hand intimately spanking her bare bottom. Señor Ortega whom she could definitely fancy in an older man sort of way. It was what Carmen had said, he was demonstrating his male dominance over her. It was almost like some primitive rite. But whatever it was it was overwhelming. Jill’s blood was pounding in her ears. More than that, she could feel herself getting distinctly wet between her legs.
At last it stopped and Jill was put on her feet. She stood, trembling, her face bright red and with one hand over that brown bush. Señor Ortega’s face was also red under his dark skin.
‘Good, Jill. You are a good girl and do not fight it. Now we have a little of the strap, like any daughter must have.’
Jill stuttered that she hadn’t done anything but she sensed, as Carmen had said, that this was not the point. Señor Garcia had strapped her and so Carmen’s father had to do the same. Presumably she could refuse but at least part of her didn’t want to. The thought of submitting to him was tremendously exciting. In a way it would almost be like having sex with him. For a second Jill pictured herself in bed with Señor Ortega on top of her. Feeling faint she let herself be pushed down at the side of her bed.
She was kneeling with her body face-down across the bed. Her pyjamas were still round her knees, her now reddened bottom arched up. Jill gripped the sheet, wondering if she would have to wait while he went to get his strap. But it came almost immediately: a sharp crack across her nude buttocks causing a half-stifled yelp into the bedclothes. Jill’s fingers dug in as the leather sliced in again across the slim flanks.
It was not like with Señor Garcia, this time there was no funny feeling that it was happening to someone else. It was her all right kneeling there and being strapped by Carmen’s father. And with the pain there was also a wild arousal. Jill could feel her hips writhing and they were not simply writhing in agony. The movements were becoming distinctly rhythmic. Oh God! she thought, he’ll see what’s happening. But as the strap kept splatting in there was nothing Jill could do about it.
Carmen and her mother came back at mid-morning by which time Jill was feeling a bit calmer but not much. It still brought on a hot flush to think about because Señor Ortega could have had no doubt what had happened. That final frenzied grinding of her hips against the edge of the bed and even more the gasping high-pitched screech which had erupted from her mouth. He had not said anything, just given Jill a smiling quizzical look when she got up and, hot with embarrassment, dragged up her pyjamas. But undoubtedly he must have known she had come.
If Jill was still overheated Carmen was clearly all agog, dragging Jill up to her room and closing the door.
‘So tell me!’ she demanded. ‘I know my father makes us go out while he stays in with you. Did you get his strap?’
Hot-faced. Jill nodded. She wasn’t going to say how she had reacted, though. Carmen grabbed her and planted another of those sexy kisses on the English girl’s mouth. ‘So now we are like sisters, yes?’
They fell back onto Carmen’s bed. Is this what Spanish sisters do? wondered Jill as Carmen’s hand slid up her bare thigh under the summer dress she now had on and homed in on the crotch of her brief nylon knickers. She put her hand down to stop Carmen but not very forcefully.
‘Don’t!’ Jill protested weakly. ‘Someone could come in.’
Carmen gave a throaty growl. ‘No. I have locked the door.’ And in a determined manner she began taking down Jill’s knickers.
Jill didn’t fight it. It was not entirely unexpected with the way Carmen had been acting. She shouldn’t allow it; nice girls didn’t do that sort of thing. But on the other hand Jill felt powerless to resist after what had happened earlier. It might be bad but it was also exquisitely nice.
Afterwards, when they had recovered and straightened themselves up, they went downstairs. With her arm around Jill’s waist Carmen told her father. ‘So now I and Jill are two sisters; both getting their father’s strap, I think.’
He laughed. ‘I expect two sisters who will also soon get Señor Guerrero’s cane at school as well!’
Carmen laughed too — while Jill’s heart missed a beat. Since that talk in the garden yesterday morning which had started all this Jill had rather forgotten about school. At the time she had half dismissed it as a joke but now that seemed less likely.
‘Oh no, it is certainly not a joke,’ Carmen told Jill when she falteringly asked about it. ‘You will not think that when you have tried Señor Guerrero’s cane. No girl would think that was a joke.’
Jill didn’t want to hear about it while at the same time she did. They were sitting under the tree in the garden again. Carmen squeezed her arm. Why not wait and find out? He will not delay in showing you his methods.’
‘No, tell me... what he does.’
Carmen rolled her eyes. ‘OK, I will; but maybe you will not want to hear it.’
Señor Guerrero was Deputy Principal and it seemed was the only one who dealt out corporal punishment, which was restricted to the upper form girls. Most of the staff were women, including the Head, and apparently it was felt that corporal punishment was not something to be handled by a woman. So it was all down to Señor Guerrero.
Carmen gave another of those tinkling laughs. ‘I should say that Señor Guerrero is very much enjoying his caning of big girls.’
Jill shivered. At last Carmen got to the details. It was always the cane. A routine caning was with you bent over his desk with skirt up over your back and with your knickers still on. But when you had had two of those he would take your knickers down and cane your bare bottom.
Carmen said. ‘I should think all our pretty girls are quickly getting to the stage of bare bottoms. Some are liking to show him their bare bottom and some are not liking. But it makes no difference. And then I must tell you he sometimes use a different position. Not at all nice.’
Carmen paused for dramatic effect. Jill held her breath.
‘It is on his desk. He make you lie on his desk on your back. Legs up in the air and hold your knees close.’
Jill swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone very dry. A very vivid and truly awful picture presented itself in her mind. It couldn’t be possible, could it? Carmen must be joking about this.
Carmen pinched her arm and delivered the punch line. ‘Sometimes, Jill, if he decide you are very naughty then he will use that position but also with your knickers off.’
There was a stunned silence at the end of which Jill managed to utter, ‘I can’t believe that.’
‘It is true, Jill, I know. He has done it to me. On his desk with my knickers off.’
Señor Guerrero was not an impressive figure, medium height and slightly pudgy with a round face. Not old, perhaps 45. Could this man do those things that Carmen had said? There were beady eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses and they flickered keenly over Jill as she stood quaking in his office. She had on a white summer dress which set her off from all the other girls who wore a uniform of white blouse and pleated grey skirt and cardigan.
The eyes continued their journeying, taking in the pretty face, the firm breasts, the long legs, as Señor Guerrero spoke words of welcome. Jill had already seen the Head, a pleasant matronly woman, but Señor Guerrero was the one who caned. Jill looked down at the desk in front of her. Could it be possible? That he made girls lie there on their backs...?
Señor Guerrero got up from the desk and came round to her. He said he hoped Jill would have a pleasant stay with them. He would certainly be seeing her again. And then he added that presumably she knew he was in charge of discipline. His hand took hold of Jill’s arm and squeezed.
She muttered ‘Yes, Señor’ and turned to go. He went to open the door and stood to let her pass. As she did Jill gave a sharp gasp. Señor Guerrero’s hand had slid behind her and was on her bottom, caressing a buttock through the thin dress.
‘I think you girls in England are also getting the bottom caned. Is that so?’
Jill stuttered ‘No... no, Señor.’ The hand stayed where it was.
‘Is that so? That is a surprise. Here we do of course.’
From that moment Jill just knew he was going to cane her. The hand calmly stroked for a bit and then with a dismissive slap she was sent on her way. But stumbling down the corridor she just knew it. He was going to find some excuse. Her knees felt all jelly-like as she thought of that desk.
But what could she do? Complain to Carmen or her father? Say she wasn’t going to go to school because she was frightened of the cane? She would simply seem like a silly baby. Jill almost felt like running away.
Nothing happened that first day at school — but there were nine more days to come. It was that business of lying on the desk that really got to her. The thought of that simply made her start trembling. Jill told herself that perhaps she could take the other. It would be horrible but she could take a normal bending-over caning; even, possibly, one with her knickers down. But not that absolutely mortifying prospect of being up on his desk. Please God let Carmen be joking about that.
‘Please say you’re joking,’ Jill pleaded with Carmen that night in her room. They were lying on Jill’s bed, Carmen feeling amorous but Jill not in the mood with that awful possibility filling her mind. Carmen said she wasn’t joking, Señor Guerrero did do it.
‘How can you let him do such a horrible thing? How can your father let him?’
‘Maybe my father does not know. We must not make complaints from school, you know, that is not good behaviour. And anyway my father thinks caning at school is good. So I will become disciplined and then a man will want to marry me. How will you like to be married, Jill, and have your husband on top of you every night?’
Jill wasn’t interested in that sort of talk nor did she want what Carmen’s hand was trying to do. But the hand was very insistent.
Señor Guerrero caned Jill the next day. She was called into his room in the afternoon to be told that she had been reported for arguing with a teacher. Jill hadn’t been arguing. It had been the woman being deliberately awkward, as if she was trying to pick a quarrel. Señor Guerrero methodically cleared one side of his desk, then went to fetch a long whippy cane. The beady eyes were shining.
‘That behaviour cannot be allowed here, Miss Fairfield. Please lie over the desk.’
He grabbed up the full skirt of Jill’s white dress, then fiddled about with her bare legs and her bottom in the brief white nylon knickers, supposedly getting her in the right position. Then the cane came down. Four breath-stopping stinging whips across the taut seat of the skin-tight knickers. It was pretty dreadful but Jill had known he was going to do it and she had told herself she could take it.
Outside, afterwards, she blinked away the tears and surreptitiously rubbed her desperately smarting bottom. It had been dreadful but she could take it. Just as long as...
The next afternoon she was back in Señor Guerrero’s room again. The same reason, that same woman teacher picking on Jill and looking for an argument. Either the woman was a friend of Señor Guerrero or she just liked the thought of the English visitor getting caned. There could be no other explanation. Jill tried to give her version of what happened but the Deputy Head cut her short and didn’t want to hear. He simply started clearing one side of his desk with those pudgy hands as he had done before. And then told her to bend over. Jill’s skirt was yanked up... and then he pulled down her knickers.
Before Jill knew it the cane was stinging in across her bare bottom. Four inflaming whacks. On the bare in spite of Carmen saying he didn’t take them down until the third time.
‘Perhaps he cannot wait,’ was all Carmen could say when Jill told her. ‘Perhaps he could not wait to get to that lovely English bottom.’
Jill still had seven more days at school. Seven days in which Señor Guerrero could do that other fiendish thing.
‘Please say you’re joking,’ Jill pleaded, yet again.
Carmen gave her an injured look. ‘You don’t like to believe me, I see. OK, I am making a joke.’
‘Are you? Was it just a joke?’ Jill demanded.
Carmen’s tongue slipped out and moistened the full lips. ‘Yes.’
Now Jill didn’t know what to believe. Miraculously there was no argument with that teacher in the next two days, and no calls to visit Señor Guerrero. At home on the second of those days Carmen and Jill both got a strapping from Carmen’s father for being out late in the evening. After what Jill had been fearing at school she almost welcomed it. It was certainly a big turn-on, like before.
Only five more days at the school.
But the next day, in the morning, Jill realised that that woman was after her again, picking on every little thing. She tried not to respond but the teacher forced her into an argument. In the afternoon Jill was in Señor Guerrero’s office again. The door was closed behind her and she heard the lock click.
Standing there Jill could feel herself perspiring. It was a bit stuffy anyway but essentially it was fear making her sweat. Was it about to happen, that horrible thing? Carmen now said it was all a joke, he didn’t really do that. Jill’s head started going round and round and she felt faint. It was a bit like that funny feeling with Señor Garcia, when she had been beaten for the first time on this Spanish visit. That now seemed like light-years ago.
Señor Guerrero was clearing his desk. Jill looked. Was he clearing one side — or all of it?... He turned, the small eyes glinting behind the glasses. His mouth opened.
‘It is a persistent offence, Miss, so think we must do something a little more unpleasant.’
Jill heard it as if from a great distance, echoing. Had he said it or was it simply in her own mind?
‘So please take off the knickers and get up on the desk. Lie on your back... and raise the legs...’
Jill was shivering. Her knees felt as if they were going to give way. She looked at his bland round face, then looked away. Surely he hadn’t really said it. It was just that she was in such a state that her mind was playing tricks on her.
Señor Guerrero came close and took hold of Jill’s arm. ‘Did you hear me, Miss?’
Numbly she shook her head.
He repeated. ‘I said take off the knickers and get up on the desk. It is my method for serious offenders. Lie on your back. Raise the legs and hold them. I shall cane your bare bottom in that position. Come, please.’