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Sunday, 5 January 2020

Authentic Interview

An interview with Joanna, from Janus 35
The third in our series of occasional, transcribed interviews with females on the subject of CP, this verbatim verbal admission by the model featured in the preceding photo-feature The Chair was recorded a few days before her 21st birthday, shortly after she took part in the session. Unlike Paula Meadows and Antonia du Bois, Joanna did receive corporal punishment at school, on a number of occasions. And — again unlike both of our previous interviewees — as a result of her schoolday experiences she does not like the cane one bit…
In my home life there was absolutely no discipline at all. I have only ever been hit once by my Mum, that was when I was very young and ran away from home — well, until 9.30 anyway! So she hit me and I got no supper. Mind you, she did relent and I got sandwiches at about midnight.
I still live with my Mum. At home I usually behaved myself anyway because my Mum gets so worked up if anything goes wrong. She gets in a really foul temper, it’s just not worth it. She doesn’t strike out, she just looks. She’s got a wilting glare.
My real Dad died when I was five, and my Mum remarried and he was horrible. He hit me once, he said I put a toilet roll down the loo, and he beat me absolutely black and blue. He kept hitting me, working up into almost a frenzy, he used to get carried away. I didn’t do it and when my brother came in he said he did it. My stepfather didn’t apologise, he just walked out. He used to beat my brother too, with a belt and used the buckle end to beat him. He used the belt on me too, on my hands.
Then he was gone and since then my mother has had a succession of boyfriends, who always try to boss us around. Especially me! My mother and I really get on well now — until there’s a sudden explosion!
I went to a secondary school that was later split into two, like a secondary modern and a grammar school. I was in the grammar school part. Those that were in the lower stream, if they didn’t bother to turn up, nobody took much notice, they didn’t wear school uniform or anything and nobody took much notice of them at all. It was different with us, we got away with nothing. We had to wear perfect uniform. Our uniform was a navy top, navy skirt, white shirt, black shoes, tie and blazer. Up to the second year we had to wear socks; after that, tights. I didn’t like the uniform but it was smart.
The teachers used to wait for us on the gates, if one piece of our uniform was wrong we were sent home. I quite enjoyed being in the A-stream at school although I don’t know why, because academically it wasn’t that great. The teachers used to spend half their time in the staff room playing snooker even during lessons. One of our classrooms was on the same level as the staff room and we could see our teacher playing snooker. The discipline was really sloppy — although the Headmaster expected discipline. If he was going to be away some of the staff would even turn up in jeans. It made us feel like misbehaving because even the teachers didn’t believe in the system.
There was an equal mix of male and female teachers but as you went further up the school there were more male teachers. I always got on with the teachers. There were a couple of teachers who would try to make us feel like kids but we just played them up.
The Headmaster used to try and make us feel in awe of him, frightened of him. He was about 45 although he didn’t look it, he would have looked quite youthful except that he had a very severe-looking face. He was on a power trip. I can imagine he was probably a hen-pecked husband and the only people he could get the better of would be kids. Most people bowed down to what he wanted, but there were a dozen or so of us that totally refused to give in to him. If he had even occasionally been reasonable, asking instead of ordering, we would have helped him.
Anything that happened in a lesson, any misbehaviour or anything was put into a blue book by each teacher. They had to make a report on everything that had gone wrong during the day, and at lunchtime the book would go to the Headmaster so he knew exactly what was going on all the time and anyone who had done anything wrong would be called to his office. We could be called into his office for things like not doing homework, if we were late, being rude or not having the correct colour shoes. Sometimes he used to come into a class, walk up and down the aisles and look at everybody’s feet to see what colour shoes they had on. If someone had the wrong colour shoes he would make them walk around with no shoes on or send them home to get a new pair. This just seemed ludicrous when some of us had actually reached the age we could get married with our parents’ consent. If someone was caught in the school building which was out of bounds at lunchtime without a good reason, or had been rude, then they would have to go to his office for corporal punishment.
The first time I got into real trouble at school was in the first year because of the teacher we had. We used to give him such trouble. I got the ruler across the soft of the hands, he used to love doing that I had to put my hands together and I got three strokes.
I didn’t feel it at the time, but I did afterwards when I tried to bend my fingers. After that, I was always getting the ruler.
Only the Headmaster was allowed to administer real corporal punishment — the cane. There was usually a witness, but not always. If the Headmaster caught you doing something wrong, he would deal with it. If it was in somebody’s lesson then the teacher would have to be present to say what the problem was, and then they would see the punishment.
The school was in two buildings with a busy road between them and there was a rule that we were not allowed to cross the road itself, we had to use the footbridge. If he caught you crossing the road he would make you run across the bridge 24 times. I only had to do that once. It was embarrassing in a way, but we used to make it as amusing as we could. It was our way of getting back at him by not appearing to be bothered by it.
Some of the kids were bothered by punishments. Say, if they had been caned, they thought unjustly. There were often parents up at the school or letters had been written. One of the kids had a letter saying that for medical reasons he wasn’t allowed to be caned, he made copies so everyone had one. We had things like: ‘so-and-so’s got a wooden leg and if he’s caned it’s liable to drop off’. We had a long list that we made up, good reasons why we shouldn’t be caned.
I was first caned when a group of us left the premises at lunchtime which was not allowed. There was a long fence that ran the length of the school which had a hole in it and we got out through that into the park across the road. This particular time there was a fair or something and we didn’t go back to school. The next morning we all went into school and were asked where we were. We all said we had dental appointments. It was catching. We had caught it. We tried to blame it on the school dinners but it didn’t work. We had to think of something. We all had to go into his office. 12 of us, eight boys and four girls. We all had to line up outside the office, he was going to see us one at a time but we had decided on our story and we were not really worried. Yes, we were all wearing school uniform, naturally.
Our stories were all the same: we all had to go to the dentist together, etc. I was about the middle of the queue. It didn’t really matter what our excuse was, we were caned for it. Instead of being sent out again afterwards, you had to go into the inner office. So you couldn’t forewarn anyone. No one could hear anything either. To get to the Headmaster’s room you had to go through his secretary’s office in between. He must have been really infuriated as we all stuck to our story.
I went in and had to stand in front of his desk. He made out he wasn’t particularly interested at first then his pen went down on the desk and he put on a stern expression and asked me what my story was. I told him it wasn’t a story — I had a really terrible dental problem and I had to go to the dentist to sort it out. He asked me what the problem was and I replied that if I knew that I would have to be a dentist. He used to hate it if anyone cheeked him back. You could see it building up in his face. He wasn’t interested in my excuse and he asked me what I thought my punishment should be. I made a smart comment back which really aggravated him and he said, ‘Shall we call your parents now or afterwards, because I am going to cane you, you know that don’t you?’
I had half expected it really, because we knew what he was like.
I didn’t really feel frightened so much as annoyed actually, that he couldn’t take a joke — that this stupid man had no sense of humour.
I had to put my hands on his desk and he came round and hit me straight across the back of the knees, which was his normal place. He gave me two strokes. The cane he used was quite thick like a piece of bamboo. The first one stung but the second stroke stung more, probably because he hit me harder the second time.
It had the effect of making me dislike the Headmaster even more, and also I suppose it did make me feel a little bit afraid of being caned again, whereas previously the idea had never troubled me.
The second time I got caned was because of a teacher. We had a new teacher who was incompetent and we all walked out. The next science lesson that we went to, the Headmaster was there and asked us why we had walked out of the earlier science lesson. He told us that we would have to stay after school to do the lesson in our own time. And then I got caned — again across the back of the knees, where it really does sting and smart. That was the worst punishment I ever got.
‘And then I got caned… across the backs of the knees, where it really does sting and smart. That was the worst punishment I ever got…’
Another time, we all had to put our hands on our desks, in the classroom, because he wanted to check to see how clean our hands were. He said to everyone, ‘They’re mucky,’ and hit their hands with a short cane-type thing, like a baton. That did hurt — he only hit once but it really hurt. I felt sick because it hurt so much and it left a mark and my fingers felt so painful. We were always getting it across the hands, usually one stroke but I think I had two once.
I think if I was punished now by somebody who obviously enjoyed it that would be one of the few reasons I could hate anybody. Because I can’t hurt anybody and people that hurt other people for pleasure are warped. I think if both people are enjoying it well that’s up to them, but I wouldn’t want to get involved in that. I couldn’t accept it.
I don’t agree with corporal punishment in schools, I don’t agree with it at all. I’m not the only one in the family that has had it, my brother was beaten so severely one day at school that he had cuts across his backside. I felt like smashing the Headmaster across the face, but I think my brother was too hurt to be angry actually. To a certain extent he deserved it, they blew up the chemistry bench. But to go so mad as to break a person’s flesh was really cruel.
Maybe if you’ve had it as a punishment at school, then you can’t have it as a pleasure because you always relate to it as punishment The fact that the Headmaster was doing it to me and I knew he was actually enjoying it was worse than the pain itself. I didn’t mind working for Janus because I knew it would be on a completely different level.


  1. Tremendous, fleas. Well done.

  2. I'd rather have heard about how she felt when she was caned by Janus.

  3. I might possibly be sounding naive here but were the caning photos in Janus (or any of the others for that matter) just poses, with any marks added artificially? Just seems strange to me otherwise if someone hated CP at school so much that they'd become a caning model. Unless she developed some kink for it that she's not telling us about.

    A school staff room with s snooker table in it! Sounds like a real life St. Trinians.

  4. There's nothing wrong with a man enjoying his work. If that means the caning every girl in the graduating class to end the appalling practice of senior "ditch" day (both the ones who knew, AND the "good girls", who showed up for class and didn't report it) then so be it.

    If a man has a smile on his face and spring in his step as he hoists down all those school knickers, and flexes the cane in front of the trembling girls, and lines up the strokes on each round bottom, what of it? If he lays on each stroke smartly, and brings up a welt and a girlish cry with each and every blow, who is to say that job was not properly done?

    What's to keep the poor man going through so many strokes and so many, many bottoms, if not his pleasure in doing good?

    And when he discovers that several of his younger female teachers have joined their students in playing truant, why shouldn't he insist that they don a school uniform, and share the punishment just as they shared in the spoils? Does his enjoyment of seeing the too-clever Miss Watson, or the cocky Miss Clarke, back in school uniform and bent over his desk with their bare bottoms raised high for six-of-the-best, mean that the strokes will be laid on less vigorously? Judging from the desperate wails and pleas of the naughty 'school girls', I'd say not.

    A long day, yes, which ends with him walking down a long corridor where countless naughty girls have their bare bottoms on display for everyone to see. Our hardworking Headmaster smiles at the sight, for only when work and play are one/is the job ever truly done!

  5. Bob here.

    Love the thought of pretty female teachers also being subject to the rod
    should they err in any way.
    What a good idea!

  6. Quite right, Bob. If the young teachers want to act like the girls, and skive off school, they can be treated like the girls. That means they can wait their turn for the cane with the other truants, in their white knee socks, school ties, and blazers, properly kitted out right down to their school knickers.

    The other girls will tease them, of course, quite pleased that to see the young women who used to threaten them with the cane now biting their lip and wringing their hands as they wait for their turn to bend over the Headmaster's desk. In uniform, their adult privileges would be gone, and they'd be treated like any other new girl.

    "You won't look so smart with your knickers-round-yer-knees, Watson!"
    "And he's going to like cutting into that big bum of yours, Clarke. What a target!"
    "Oh, are you crying already? Cry baby, cry baby!"
    "I think the Headmaster fancies you, Jones."
    "But don't think he'll go easier on you because of it. He always gives the hardest strokes to the girls he's hot for."
    "Yeah, we only hurt the ones we love, ha-ha!"

    The girls are mercilessly cruel, and the Headmaster will be no better. It's agony waiting for it, listening to the other girls cry out as the cane strikes true, knowing your turn is coming.

    Let's hope that if any of the older male teachers happen down the hallway while the young teachers are waiting in their uniforms, they treat the young teachers with the respect they deserve.

  7. Hope embarrassing for the teachers to have to wait in line like that to get the cane.Painful too,of course.
    I would imagine most of us can recall at least one or two pretty female teachers from our own pasts who might have seriously benefitted from being in
    the sort of position you envisage, Anonymous.How they would quake and quail at the very thought of the biting
    and burning pain of the cane.
    How they will jump,shriek and squveal when that whippy rod connects with their richly deserving bare bottoms.
    Heady stuff!

  8. As for the teachers, I can only imagine the humiliation of having to stand in front of the other girls in full uniform, looking every bit the schoolgirl, their authority and attempts to play at being "adult" totally undermined by the crushing reality that they too are nothing more than naughty schoolgirls, no different than the rest, trembling under the shadow of the cane.

    Miss Watson is both relieved and terrified when the teasing finally ends, and she enters the study. She starts to close the door behind her, but the Headmaster reprimands her. "No, leave it open, Watson. Wide open. It's getting stuffy in here!"

    Miss Watson knows the other girls can hear as she pleads to keep her knickers on ("they're very thin, Sir! Let me have a bit of dignity. Oh, please, Sir, not on the BARE!")

    The Head allows that it is quite embarrassing for the young teacher "to be caned knickers down, on your bare bottom, at your age!" but insists "that when a girl gets too big for her britches, her britches must come down!"

    Miss Watson flinches as she feels his fat fingers in the waistband of her school knickers. "This if for your own good, Watson. Remember, this is going to hurt me, more than it hurts you."

    Perhaps, but it doesn't SEEM to hurt him, particularly since he uses the lowering of Watson's tight knickers and the tapping of the cane as he measures out the stroke as an excuse to fondle her bare bottom.

    "Yes, this is a nicely rounded bottom you have, Watson. Nice bounce to it, but taught as well. It's a bottom MADE for a caning, and an overdue caning at that. We'll start with six of the best, real sizzlers, to start to set the ledger back in balance."

    Miss Watson lets out a little "ooh" as a finger "accidentally" insinuates itself between her legs, touching her most sensitive spot. He squeezes and jiggles her bottom cheeks as she rides his finger, her humiliation made all the worse by the laughter of her pupils in the hall.

  9. That is one visit to the head that Miss Watson is neither going to forget or live down in a hurry,Anonymous.
    One can only begin to imagine just how
    truly mortified she will feel when taking her first class after that thrashing.All the winks,sniggers and probable teasing she will get from the
    very same girls she would once so indifferently send to the head for caning.
    Now she is the one with the hot,sore,blazing rump.
    She will get no sympathy from the girls,I suspect.
    Jolly good thing,too!

  10. Yes, particularly because Watson had to do her corner time in the hallway with the other girls, with her welts on display for both the other students and her fellow teachers to enjoy at their leisure.

    She enters the classroom nervously, trying to walk normally in spite of the fire raging in her bottom. "Open your books, class, to Chapter 8."

    There are nervous smiles among the girls as they comply. She looks over her shoulder, and notices the perfect caricature of her drawn on the board. She is uniform, looking over her shoulder, tears in her eyes, with the welts on her naked bottom clearly visible. The girls burst into laughter as she runs to blackboard, looking frantically for the erasor.

  11. Erasing the image on the board will not
    be too hard for Miss Watson.
    Erasing the embarrassment and fiery heat in her welted bottom may prove a little more difficult and take a tad longer to achieve.

  12. The good news is the the Head is looking after her. As part of the healing process she is required to take a gym class with the other girls each morning. The Headmaster, watching from his balcony as he sips his tea, has to use his binoculars to find Watson in the gaggle of jumping, squatting, and bending girls, as one girl wearing tight blue gym knickers and a white T can look very much like another.

    An hour of vigorous exercise under the school's imperious gym Mistress ensures that Watson doesn't just "sit" on bottom, and that every morning she works up a stink. Of course with all those stripes on her bottom it's quite painful for her, but that can't be helped, as the gym Mistress is quick to remind her with a flick of the tawse against the seat of her knickers if she slacks off.

    After her exercises, the Headmaster will sometimes saunter down to the shower. Miss Watson would blend in with the other naked girls, if it wasn't for the purple welts across her bottom. Fortunately the Headmaster is waiting for her when she gets out of the shower, cold cream in hand.

  13. Bob here.

    Just a thought.How about if as a final,extra stage of her punishment,Watson is relieved of her teaching duties for at least a week and
    has to spend it sitting and studying in
    one of the junior classes ?
    Oh how humbling for her,eh ?
    Taken all together,she will never,ever forget these experiences,I imagine!

  14. Alas, Bob, after seeing Watson in the showers and exercising with the other girls it's become painfully obvious that whatever absurd intellectual pretensions her college degree might have given her she is, and always will be, a schoolgirl. After a private dinner with Judge Hardcase we agreed over a glass of port that Watson is to be confined to reformatory, until such time as she can devise a way to convince us both that she shouldn't be made to wear a school uniform, go to class, work in the fields and the mill, and live under the shadow of the cane. Good luck to Watson in this endeavor, and to you, Bob, as we bring our story to a close.

  15. Bob here.
    Great series of posts,Anonymous.
    Nice one!