From Blushes 14
‘Pam — go up to your room at once!’
The blonde-haired girl, with pert and quite pretty features, looked sulky. Her gaze turned from her father to the sober-suited man alongside him. One had the impression that she might, at any moment, put out her tongue at either or both of them. But she did not. Instead she walked slowly across to an armchair and picked up a women’s magazine which lay there. The pertness on her face had taken on a cheeky look — something which it could all too readily do.
‘I said at once, Pam!’
‘Got to have something to read if I’m to stay up there.’ She continued to flip the pages of the magazine and a look of exasperation passed over her father’s face and he glanced at the man alongside him.
‘I am afraid, Mr Jackson, this tendency in your daughter has been reported to me before now.’
‘Has it? I’m not surprised. Pam, for the last time, go up to your room!’
Unhurriedly, the girl — who was still in her school uniform of pink blouse, tie and grey skirt — strolled towards the door. ‘I don’t know what this fuss is all about,’ she drawled. The door opened and shut with a bang.
‘Insolence!’ The sober-suited man looked angry. His name was Herbert Porter and he was Headmaster of Pam’s Comprehensive.
‘I’m sorry about her attitude, Mr Porter,’ said Bill Jackson. ‘I’m finding it more and more difficult to keep any control over Pam. And it’s the same with Rita.’
‘Ah yes, Rita. That’s your elder daughter, of course.’
‘That’s right. Just eighteen, the other day. Now she’s talking about leaving home even before she’s left school. Madness!’
‘Mmm… yes… we have similar difficulties with these girls at school…’
‘It was better when my wife was here. She used to deal with these matters. But she left me last year. Can’t understand it even now.’
‘I’m sorry about that, Mr Jackson. I was told about it. Er… what do you mean by ‘deal with’, as a matter of interest?’
‘She used to take a slipper to them. And a belt sometimes. She is a great believer in corporal punishment is my wife. It worked, too. The girls did what she told them all right.’
Mr Porter, solemn-faced, nodded, ‘I, too, am a believer in corporal punishment, Mr Jackson. However, in their infinite wisdom, the authorities have seen fit to ban it in schools.’
‘More’s the pity…’
‘So you believe in it, too?’
‘Oh yes…’ Bill Jackson looked rather surprised by the question.
‘Well then, my dear sir, may I ask… er… why you don’t employ it?’
Again Bill Jackson looked surprised. ‘Didn’t seem quite right somehow,’ he replied. ‘Not now they’re grown up. Pam’s 17, you know.’
‘I don’t really see what that’s got to do with it. I am sure your wife would have carried on as before. Er… may I sit down.’
‘Sorry, Mr Porter, please do. Yes… I am sure she would.’ He also sat down and looked expectantly at the Headmaster.
‘As a matter of fact, Mr Jackson, I came to you personally in this matter, because I think it is something which merits corporal punishment. But, as you know, as far as that is concerned at school, my hands are tied.’
‘I see…’ Pam’s father looked exceedingly thoughtful. ‘You say she actually attacked this other girl… and won’t give any reason?’
‘That is correct. She pulled out some of her hair, scratched her, and even bit her. Such violence certainly merits a good hiding and, in former times, she would certainly have got one.’
‘Quite right. It was a disgraceful thing to do.’ Bill Jackson looked thoughtful again. ‘So you think I should do what her mother used to do?’
‘Precisely,’ answered the Headmaster. ‘If it bothers you at all, I could do it for you. As her Headmaster, it is, in a way, my duty.’
Bill Jackson looked immensely relieved. ‘Would you, Mr Porter? Oh that’s fine. I’m sure it will do her a power of good.’
Pam Jackson was lying face down on her bed, feet in the air, reading her magazine. She had taken off her school uniform (which she hated) and wore only a plain white bra and tight, white briefs. She was humming to herself:
‘Oh Mr Porter, what yer goin’ to do? You think I’m such a naughty girl…’
That happy little tune was abruptly halted by the sudden opening of her bedroom door and the said Mr Porter entered, closely followed by her father. And in her father’s hand was a very familiar cane. Pam had thankfully thought she’d seen the last of that with the departure of her mother.
With a wild shriek, Pam tried to wrap some of the eiderdown around her and failed. ‘Crikey… what do you think you’re doing? You can’t come in here!’ Her words were mainly directed at her headmaster who was favoured with a close view of a pair of choicely rounded breasts wobbling about under a thin bra.
‘I am here on your father’s invitation,’ said Herbert Porter, trying not to be too disturbed by the revealing spectacle before him. My goodness, young girls did grow up fast these days!
‘Dad… Dad… say it isn’t true!’
‘It’s true enough, Pam… and after what you did, you’re going to get what you deserve.’ He handed the cane to the Headmaster.
The full realisation of what was intended burst in upon Pam Jackson. ‘You can’t!’ she cried half hysterically. ‘It… it’s not right!’
‘It’s very right,’ replied Herbert Porter, ‘after what you did to one of my pupils. Sheer barbarism. You’re lucky I persuaded the girl’s mother not to bring a criminal charge against you. I thought, though, that this would do you far more good.’ He tapped the cane on his palm.
Green eyes wide and round with shock, mouth a little open, Pam slid off the edge of the bed. Through thin briefs, the Head could now observe the dark outline of a pubic V. Again he forced his mind to keep on the job in hand.
‘Get out… I’m not having you do this!’ the girl spat the words venomously. She had begun to tremble, torn between fury and fear. ‘Get out… get out… you… you horrible old man!’
The ‘horrible old man’, who was all of forty-five, looked quite unperturbed. ‘I think I’m going to need your assistance, Mr Jackson.’
‘Oh yes?’ Pam’s father was looking rather useless, appearing not to know what to do with his hands.
‘That chair,’ said the Head, nodding to an armchair in one corner of the small bedroom. ‘Pull it out, will you? Then we’ll have her over the back, I think.’
‘You won’t… you won’t… Dad… don’t let him!’
‘Don’t forget what the girl did, Mr Jackson,’ said the Head, thinking he saw a certain lack of resolution creeping into the father.
‘No… you’re right, of course, Mr Porter.’ He thought of all the cheek he’d had to put up with from Pam recently and was galvanised into action. Not only did he haul the chair away from the wall, he then advanced upon his daughter and, much to her surprise and dismay, gripped her wrists and pulled her over the back of it. ‘Your mother would have thoroughly approved,’ he shouted above the din the girl was making.
Not only was she yelling blue murder but she was twisting frantically over the chair and kicking out. A neatly rounded young bottom, most scantily clad, was, all the same, nicely presented for Herbert Porter’s attentions. He had a sudden impulse to rip down those little panties but, out of deference to her father’s feelings, he did not. In any event, they concealed virtually nothing at all and would certainly offer not the slightest protection.
‘Stop it… sttooo… oooppp… oh Dad… stop him!’
‘I have no intention of stopping your Headmaster,’ replied Bill Jackson. ‘This has my full approval.’ He tightened his grip on a couple of slim wrists and nodded to Herbert Porter.
The first impact of that cane stopped Pam’s pleas and protests instantly. They changed to a breathless gasping yelp of pain. All the awful memories of her mother’s wallopings came back. But this was worse… worse! Not only was it laid on harder, it was being laid on by a man… that pompous Mr Porter!
Wwhhaacckkk! Christ how it blazed! Burning deep… deep. ‘Stoooppp it… ooh… I’ll k-kill you for this…’
Herbert Porter surveyed the bouncing, twisting young bottom with satisfaction. Already, after only two good whacks from the cane, each cheek was half-submerged in a glowing pink-red. Oh, if only I could do this to some of those cheeky little bitches at school, he said to himself. He’d soon have the place running like clockwork and clean as a new pin. Not the bloody shambles it was at that moment.
He laid on the cane twice in quick succession, just about in the same place. The girl writhed convulsively… mouth gaping, tears jetting from her screwed up eyes… as she experienced real pain. When she caught her breath, she screamed piercingly. Lucky, thought the Head, that Mr Jackson had had the foresight to double-glaze his house. Mind you, that had been basically done to keep aircraft noise out and not girlish screams in!
Herbert Porter laid on two more hard whacks. Now the twisting, juddering bottom was red all over. ‘Steady on, Mr Porter…’ came the father’s voice, one naturally a little anxious for his girl.
‘Mr Jackson,’ said the Head, standing erect, ‘a girl’s bottom can absorb far more punishment than most people imagine… and yet suffer no permanent harm. In a way, the area has been perfectly designed by nature for this kind of treatment.’
‘Well… er… yes…’
‘Ohhh stop him, Dad… stop… him…’
‘Remember what she did, Mr Jackson. Remember, too, her appalling general attitude and bad behaviour.’
‘Yes… yes… all right then…’
Swinging easily and loosely, rather like a tennis-player during a knock-up, Herbert Porter laid the cane a half-dozen more times across that already blazing young bottom. This, he thought, is a day she’ll recall for a long, long time. A day that will only have to be mentioned to make her behave herself.
And that, of course, was what corporal punishment was all about.
In the peace and quiet of the front room, Herbert Porter was offered a bottle of beer or a glass of sherry. He accepted the latter, seated himself and sipped. ‘Your health, Mr Jackson,’ he said, favouring his host with a rare smile.
‘Yours,’ responded Bill Jackson. He didn’t quite know whether to be pleased or sorry about what had just happened. Poor Pam’s bottom hadn’t half looked a rosy-red. Still, if it made her behave herself better…
Up in the bathroom above, a red-eyed, wet-cheeked Pam was repeatedly pressing a cold flannel to flesh that went on burning and burning. It was far worse than anything Mum had ever done. And he had done it! Oh how she hated him! At the same time, she felt an inner apprehension. What was it the pompous man had said just as he was leaving her room?
‘If you have any more trouble from this girl, Mr Jackson, you know you only have to send for me.’
And what had her father said? That was the cause of her apprehension.
‘Right you are Mr Porter. I think we might be getting on top of this situation.’
Oh Dad, oh Dad, how could you? Still, Mum wouldn’t have been any better. Worse, in fact.
Pam re-wetted the flannel and kept on pressing. It didn’t seem to help very much.
Back down below in the front room. Herbert Porter leaned forward in his armchair. ‘And now, Mr Jackson, I am afraid we must come to the subject of your elder daughter, Rita. She is just eighteen, you told me?’
‘Yes, that’s so. Quite a good girl, though. Not so much trouble as our Pam.’
‘You may think so, Mr Jackson.’ The Headmaster sipped.
‘What do you mean by that then? I know she’s a bit cheeky and strong-headed, like most youngsters these days. Bright though. She’s got two A’s and is going on to a Further Education College.’
‘Oh yes… bright enough, nodded Herbert Porter condescendingly. ‘However, there is a darker side to her character.’
‘Oh yes? What’s that then?’
‘I hesitate to tell you this, Mr Jackson, but I must. It is my duty.’
‘Well, yes then… if it is… I suppose you must.’ Bill Jackson looked flustered no end.
The Headmaster coughed. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘I have to tell you, Mr Jackson, that your daughter Rita has been observed — on no less than three occasions — having illicit sexual intercourse with boys at the school. These incidents took place in a changing room during school hours. That really is quite intolerable.’
Bill Jackson looked utterly crestfallen. ‘Three times?’ he asked weakly. He wondered vaguely why they hadn’t acted after the first time but did not pursue it.
‘Three times to our knowledge,’ said the Head, finishing off his sherry.
‘So, I think you will agree, Mr Jackson, that this is a case which even more merits corporal punishment.’
‘Oh yes… even more…’ agreed a pale and puzzled-looking single-parent father.
‘So you can expect me to call here again next Friday, with your Rita…’Friday evening’s events were chronicled further in A ‘Nice’ Girl in Blushes 16.