Jilly looked down at the flowers in the carpet. From her position, she had an excellent view of the closely-woven pattern. It wasn’t the first time she had been in that position — with her blonde tresses brushing the floor and her fingertips touching the toes of her black, shiny, high-heeled shoes. It wouldn’t be the last time either! Jilly’s record at St Mary’s High School was vastly different to that of her elder sister. Julie had made it all the way to the top and she had become Head Girl in her final year.
By sharp, and painful, contrast Jilly became known as the Bottom Girl — for the obvious reason! Here she was, about to have her arse scorched yet again by Mr Rogerson!
Her heart beat faster as she felt her skirt being raised and tucked in around her trim waist.
She knew it was going to be a bare bum caning. Mr Rogerson allowed a girl to retain her knicks only on the occasion of her first beating. After that, knicks were dropped to the ankles.
It wasn’t that the thin material offered any protection. It was part of the deterrent — a bare bum caning being the ultimate punishment at St Mary’s. Jilly felt his warm hands on her flesh as he took hold of the elasticated top of her skimpy briefs. Soon, they were fluttering down her legs to land around her ankles. Now she was all ready for another dose of the cane.
Mr Rogerson however, wasn’t quite ready. He had a habit of preparing a girl by uncovering her bottom and then going to fetch the crook-handled cane which hung from a hook behind the door. Whenever an errant girl closed the door of the study she was immediately confronted by the sight of the cane swinging, menacingly, from its perch. Jilly moved her head slightly. She watched Mr Rogerson’s feet as they progressed across the carpet, paused at the door and then returned to position themselves to the left of her posterior.
Even though she was about to receive the first stinging cut, she could not help thinking how clean and shiny Mr Rogerson’s shoes were.
The feet swayed slightly. Jilly knew that the cane was high in the air. Any moment now!
Jilly grunted as the cane landed in the centre of the rich moons of her arse.
That was a real stinger all right. Mr Rogerson could certainly lay it on when he wanted to. Jilly knew that he was really going to lay into her backside. Indeed, the Bottom Girl of St Mary’s expected nothing less than a good hiding.
The cane dug into her bottom again after Mr Rogerson had judged that the earlier hurt was ebbing away. Suddenly, the pain rose sharply to a new peak.
Jilly’s only response was a sharp exhalation of breath, although she could feel the hurt spreading through her. Before Mr Rogerson was finished with her, her young body would be totally engulfed by the searing hurt.
She didn’t know just how many strokes she was in for. Gone were the days when she could expect a mere six!
The third cut made her cry out and she rocked on the balls of her feet. Her bottom stung like mad. She knew that the three stripes emblazoned across her buttocks would be spaced exactly two centimetres apart. (Mr Rogerson liked to joke about the distance between each stripe, saying that he had gone ‘metric’!) There was still plenty of room on Jilly’s lovely bottom for lots more strokes!
This time, Jilly’s vocal reaction was just a shade higher. She screwed up her eyes as the flaming pain coursed through her body. Her bottom wriggled but she maintained her position.
She opened her eyes again and looked at Mr Rogerson’s feet. Jilly was able to tell when the next blow was coming up. Whenever he raised the cane, Mr Rogerson dug his heels into the carpet.
He did just that and she clenched her bum cheeks as she awaited the next stinger from the slender stick. It stung all right. Her arse felt like it had been attacked by an army of wasps!
‘Yowch!’ she yelled out, her face now contorting with the pain from her rear. Still, she managed to maintain the required stance. However, two strokes later, her knees buckled and she let out a shrill scream. The pain was now acute.
The next cut had her fighting back the tears. She wondered why she wasn’t like her elder sister? Eventually, Mr Rogerson’s shiny shoes disappeared from her sight. She knew then that he was returning the cane to its place on the back of the door. Still Jilly waited, her bottom ablaze with pain.
Mr Rogerson always ended his sessions in the same way. Ordinarily, it would be just a pat on the bum. On Jilly’s angry, corrugated rear however, it was quite a painful blow.
‘Ouch!’ she cried, waggling her wounded derriere from side to side. The slap caused her almost as much distress as one of the finale strokes of the cane.
‘Up you get!’ ordered Mr Rogerson brightly.
Jilly pursed her lips as she straightened up, aware that he was gazing at her tuft of pubic hair. She didn’t mind in the slightest. He’d seen it lots of times before. And, during the course of her many canings, he must have seen much, much more!
Fully dressed again, Jilly smoothed out her skirt. ‘Thank you,’ she smiled graciously.
‘You’re welcome,’ replied the teacher as he picked up her bag of shopping and handed it to her. ‘Is your husband still working on the rigs?’ he enquired.
Jilly nodded. ‘He went away last night.’
Mr Rogerson rubbed his hands. ‘I’ll be seeing to you again before he gets back, I presume?’ he asked her with a big smile.
‘Yes please,’ smiled back the former pupil of St Mary’s. ‘If you don’t mind.’