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 LOVE HURTS!  by Alex Birch



   I'd always been meaning to write this story down but somehow never got
round to it until one day last week when a letter arrived.  I'm not too hot
on my pins these days and my eyesight is not what it was so my wife always
gets to the door and collects the mail.  She came into the lounge wearing a
puzzled expression, waving an invitation card in her hand and said 'Robert,
we've got a golden wedding invitation...Philip and Charlotte Kenyon...do we
know them?'

   My old brain isn't quite as alert as it used to be and I must have
looked blank for a few seconds then suddenly the penny dropped and I
guffawed so loudly that my wife thought I had taken leave of my senses.

   'Good Lord...' I finally spluttered '..so they made it..after all these
years!!  Yes indeed dear, we have both 'met' them but let's just say I know
them both a little more intimately than you!!!' and continued to shake my
head in amusement and disbelief.............

   ********************************

   ...my story begins in the spring of 1952 when I was in my second year as
Headmaster of Mattingley Grammar School for Girls in Kent.  It was a
prestigious appointment and I was made only too aware by the interviewing
panel that my youth had been a concerning factor, for I was in my early
thirties then.  They had decided however that my curriculum vitae contained
sufficient evidence of my academic ability, management skills and
disciplinary strengths that any misgivings about my age could be easily set
aside.  I was told in no uncertain terms however that Mattingley had a
proud record of both educational success and good behaviour, both of which
had dropped a little in recent years and that keen eyes would be watching
to ensure that the school's reputation was restored to its former glory.

   My appointment proved to be just the fillip that I and, without undue
modesty, the school needed.  It was apparent when I arrived that discipline
had begun to dip a little, due I suspect to the advanced age of my
predecessor who had begun perhaps to neglect the, shall we say, pastoral
care of the students as old age took its toll.

   I soon put that to rights.  I applied a mixture of kindness and firm
resolution in my dealing with the girls and, to the distress of some on the
school board, I restored an element that my predecessor had neglected -
corporal punishment.  There was some resistance when this was first mooted
but I overcame first the concerns of the School Board and then the Local
Education Authority.  I made it clear, via copious statistics, how
discipline and peformance had badly fallen away over the previous five
years, coinciding with the abandonment of the cane.  I had dicovered very
early that if one is determined, decisive and informed it usually dissolves
opposition purely based on some vague unease and a weak stomach.  Parents
were informed and told very clearly that if they objected to their
offspring receiving corporal punishment they could immediately find another
school.  Very few did so and caved in to me very meekly.  I even obtained
assent to my right to cane with the girls wearing as much or as little
clothing as I deemed appropriate provided that a female witness was present
in the more 'immodest' circumstances.  Needless to say I was delighted.

   The girls, of course, were horrified when this was announced and there
were rumours of a rebellion which quickly died out when I announced in
assembly that should such defiance proceed the ringleaders would have their
bare bottoms caned in front of the whole school.

   I would like to claim that my desire to restore corporal punishment was
driven by merely a strong conviction that such measures were the only means
of maintaining effective discipline among the young but I am an honest man
if not one who is particularly pure of heart.  While I do indeed believe
that corporal discipline is the most effective way of keeping order, I am
also compelled to admit that punishing the bottom of a teenage girl is also
one of the greatest pleasures which God, in his wisdom, has bestowed upon
the human race.  Such an admission did not figure greatly in any of my job
interviews it must be said, nor the fact that my only regret was that the
rules did not allow me to put them over my knee and spank them by hand. 
Such tactile bliss has to be experienced and cannot be explained.

   Gradually I earned the pupils respect if not their affection, for I
never allowed my predilection to rule my sense of fairness.  The nightmare
they had imagined of daily floggings turned out, of course, to be a figment
of their imagination and the very thought of being sent to me for
punishment was sufficient to bring the school disciplinary standards back
to something like the standard I required.  I hardly used the cane at all,
no more than 19 or 20 times a year I would imagine for the mere threat of a
caning was enough to put send most of the girls out of my office in tears,
determined to 'pull their socks up'..and most of them did.  In my 12 year
tenure at Mattingley only 11 girls..and I remember each by name..received
the ultimate punishment of a caning or strapping on the bare bottom and
those were in circumstances where I decided that the seriousness of the
offence merited it

   Most of my girls were basically well behaved but there were, as always,
exceptions to the golden rule and one has to just take these in one's
stride amd be firm with them.  Some pupils were simply born to be
troublesome while others went through phases of disruptive behaviour which,
in the case of teenagers, is often down to hormonal changes and a sudden
awareness of the opposite sex.  While one can have some sympathy with the
problem, I resolved never to allow any such sympathy to divert me from what
I believed to be the appropriate course of punishment.  Pupils at Grammar
School are expected to learn a lot in a short time in order to qualify them
for a University education.  Any activity or proclivity which interfered
with that was not in the student's interest or that of the school and that
was the basis on which I built my regime.

   One of the girls who fell into this latter category was a pleasant child
who suffered from lapses of concentration and was prone to daydreaming, a
pretty blonde 16 year old named Charlotte Webb.  She was bright, good
natured and intelligent and right up to the end of the previous term her
reports from house masters and teachers had been flawless.  Then, at the
start of the year, her work had begun to fall away to such an extent that
she had been placed in detention twice for missing homework assignments. 
On the third occasion she failed to turn up for the detention period and ,
next morning, apologised to her form teacher, Miss Fletcher, claiming a bad
migraine and that she had gone home to bed.  We didn't always call the home
address to verify in those days, for most people did not own a telephone
and we were not the Soviet Union after all!!

   Miss Fletcher, however was angry that Charlotte had not informed her
before leaving and thus reported the incident to me so I called the girl
into my office.  She was quite obviously terrified having been sent to the
Head and gabbled out her excuse all over again.  I made it clear that, on
this occasion, the matter would be allowed to rest but that if she did
anything similar in the future she could expect to be sent to me and get
punished for it.  The look of terror on her face was enough to know that
the message had got home and she babbled an apology before fleeing from my
room.  Miss Fletcher had already spoken to me about the girl's declining
work standards and I had resolved to look into her circumstances and see if
I could get to the bottom of the matter.  That I did so in no uncertain
terms will become apparent as my narrative continues.

   Some two weeks after my chat with Charlotte, my wife called me at school
and suggested that, as it was a busy shopping day for her, why didn't we
meet up in town, have a rare meal out at Mattingley's finest cafe and then
maybe take in a film at the local cinema.  'The African Queen' had just
opened at the Alhambra and both of us were very keen to take it in.  So we
met up at 'Rudolpho's' I recall, had a splendid meal of roast lamb and a
very fine wine before making our way to the only showing of the film that
evening.  I should remind younger readers at this point that way back then
there were no repeat showings late into the night, merely one evening show
prefaced by what our American friends term a 'B movie' and a newsreel.

   The lights went down and the 'B movie' began, some cops and robbers
drama of which I suspect I would have had little recollection in any event
but as events mapped out my memory of it was almost obliterated by other
diversions!!

   The film had been in progress for some 15 minutes or so when my wife
squeezed my arm and whispered 'Look at these two next to me!  Quite
disgraceful!' As discreetly as possible I leaned slightly forward and
looked across in the dim light at the young couple two empty seats away
from where my wife was sitting.  They were young, around 16 or 17 I
guessed, and to say they were 'snogging' would be the understatement of a
lifetime.  The girl was, I could see, even in that half light, a pretty
blonde, her hair done up in a pony tail.  She wore a blouse and slightly
flared skirt and petticoats which were fashionable at the time plus quite
extravagant diamond shaped earrings which made her look more than a little
cheap.  The boy was leaning across her body, his lips pressed passionately
to hers while one hand was clearly roaming under the loose skirt and
petticoats, occasionally drawing an audible gasp of 'Philip stop it!' but
her legs were parting wider giving him even greater access.  I couldn't
quite see any more without making myself obvious but my wife, who hated
that kind of public exhibition, had no such inhibitions.  She snorted
loudly, looked across at the pair and said angrily 'You children should be
ashamed of yourselves!

   The boy, angered and embarrassed, seized the girl's hand and they both
got up from the seats to move elesewhere then as a parting shot he muttered
'You want to keep your eyes to yourself you nosey cow!' My wife gasped in
disgust and I watched them to their fresh seats some three rows behind us,
determined to say something when the lights went up for the interval. 
Eventually the film finished and I got up to visit the 'loo', determined to
have a few words with the offending twosome as I did so.  They were sitting
in the aisle seats as I made my way up the steps, paused and looked down at
the scene before my eyes.  They reacted slowly to the house lights going
up, the girl's hand close to the top of the boy's thigh, his erection only
too obvious.  She in turn lay half back in her seat her flared skirt and
petticoats slightly pushed up revealing a very shapely thigh, the boy's
hand well inside her petticoats stroking and rubbing as she gasped and
sighed.  I stared at the girl's face, the cheeks well rouged, the eye
shadow and false eyelashes highlighting such pretty baby blue eyes and her
mouth, temporarily free of the boy's attentions as she caught her breath,
well coated in pink lipstick.  I simply goggled in amazement as my brain
translated what, or rather who, my eyes had recognised.

   I think her cognitive faculties clicked in marginally before mine for
she squealed as she stared back at me, pushing down her skirt and shoving
the boy away in almost one movement.  She sat, her face red and her mouth
wide open in shock, as I fought to control my temper.  Finally I snarled

   'Charlotte!  In my office after assembly tomorrow or it will be the
worse for you!!'

   **************************

   My wife was very aroused by the possibilities in store for young
Charlotte for I had of course told her the whole story on the way home from
the cinema and she had giggled like a schoolgirl at the very implications
of the whole situation.  The two miscreants had fled the cinema immediately
after my rebuke and I could only imagine the feelings running through the
mind of the girl as she lay in bed that night, no doubt trembling in
fear..and with some justification.  My wife , on the other hand, was quite
visibly excited by the whole thing for, like me, she has always had a
predilection for the joys of corporal punishment and I smiled to myself as
she cleared away the supper things with undue haste and announced that 'an
early night might be in order' in a shaky voice.

   I allowed her to depart first for the bedroom and, after enjoying a late
glass of port, made my way upstairs.  I was not at all surprised to find my
wife kneeling on the bed, knees drawn up tight to her belly, her head
buried in the sheets.  Her nightdress was thrown up over her back and her
knickers were down at her knees, offering me the plumpest most succulent
bottom thrusting up to reveal all its treaures.

   'Thought you might want to get into practice, dear...' she said softly
and needless to say I availed myself of the opportunity with
enthusiasm...an experience over which I now intend to draw a discreet veil.

   The next morning at breakfast, my wife was as bright eyed as I'd seen
her in the 8 years of our married life and she kissed me goodbye with a
whispered 'Give that little madam what she deserves!!'

   When I arrived at school there was a note on my desk from Helen Fletcher
to say that Charlotte Webb had skipped a detention period the previous
evening 'because her mother was ill'.

   If my cup could have runneth any further over I would have been drowned
by the contents.  Charlotte Webb had just buried herself in her own deceit
and I was determined to put her on the right and proper path however
traumatic and shameful she might find the journey!!

   I made my way to assembly and, as I looked down at the sea of girlish
faces, I deliberately scanned the fifth form row and was gratified to see
Charlotte, now restored to more acceptable clothing, standing between two
concerned friends.  Her eyes were red from crying and her face was at first
pale from lack of sleep but it pinkened when she caught my eye and then she
looked down at her hymn book, embarrassed and afraid.

   When assembly was over I returned to my office and, within minutes,
there was a timid knock on my door.

   'Come!!' I barked and the door opened to admit a trembling blonde 16
year old, already weeping with fear.

   'Sit down Charlotte and STOP BEHAVING LIKE A BABY!!' I shouted and the
shock tactics worked for she stopped crying and sat down in the visitor's
chair, her small hands pressed to her mouth.

   'Please Sir..' she whined '..I'm s..'

   'Save it, young lady..' I ordered '...we can do all that later.  This is
going to be a short visit.  I don't have time to punish you now.  All I
want at this point is the name of your boyfriend and his school!'

   Charlotte's face at first relaxed in relief that whatever was in store
had been deferred but the expression was soon replaced by a look of
despair.

   'Please s.ss..sir I can't tell you..I just can't!'

   I rose from my desk and leaned across it in a theatrical gesture of
menace.

   'You WILL tell me Charlotte and you will tell me NOW'

   'Please sir..I can't sir..please!!'

   I walked around my desk and stood over her as she cowered into her
chair, her thighs squeezed together as if she was desperate to relieve her
bladder.

   'Look at me, Charlotte..'I demanded and the pretty face reluctantly
stared into mine, colouring up once more in fear and anxiety '...have you
ever been caned?'

   The very mention of the word sent the girl into a paroxysm of choking
sobs and a squeal of 'oh no Sir,I haven't Sir..oh please Sir'

   I continued '..then the first time will come as a very unpleasant shock,
Charlotte..' the girl weeping loudly now '..which can be made even worse
for you if you do not cooperate!  Now then!  I know that the boy's name is
Philip...' she gasped in horror '..that he is about your age, and I can
describe him.  Mattingley is not a large town, Charlotte.  How long do you
think it will take me to ring around the schools and get an identification,
eh?'

   Still she sat whimpering but her lips were sealed.  At least the kid had
some loyalty and I admired her for that.  However I was not prepared to be
thwarted by a stubborn teenage girl and I knew I had the more powerful
weapons.

   'Charlotte...' I said grimly '...I am going to give you 30 seconds to
tell me the name of the boy and his school.  If, in that time, you do NOT
answer my question truthfully I will arrange a special assembly for later
this morning.  You, my girl, will be the guest of honour!  You and I will
be alone on that stage in front of a very large audience!.  I will read out
your list of offences..which include lying about your whereabouts last
night...then I will take your knickers down and cane your bare bottom in
front of the whole school!!'

   Charlotte's eyes widened in terror, her face turned white as chalk and
she began to shake with fear.

   'NOOOOOO..' she squealed '...PLEASE SIR NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO'

   'Oh Yes Charlotte..'I replied '..and its now twenty seconds!! 
However..' I measured my words carefully '..  I might even spare you the
cane altogether if you tell me what I want to know!'

   Charlotte's eyes widened once more in anguished disbelief as I stared at
my watch and suddenly she gabbled in panic 'P..Philip Kenyon...Sir...he
goes to St Marks!!'

   I turned away and grinned before restoring my stern expression.

   'Very well, Charlotte, and you better be telling me the truth.  You can
have the rest of the day to think about your situation and I want you back
in my office after lessons at 4pm'

   The girl scrambled to her feet, her eyes wet, her chest heaving with
sobs and almost ran to the door, desperate I suspected to take care of a
pressing personal need.  When the door closed behind her, I realised I was
grinning like a Cheshire cat as I picked up the telephone.

   By 4pm I was sitting in my office, grimly content, all necessary
communication having been made when there was a timorous knock on my door.

   'COME!' I shouted and the door opened to admit one very frightened 16
year old girl.  She looked as if she'd been crying already for her pretty
cheeks were flushed and her blue eyes glistening.  I decided to play the
paternalistic role, at least to start with, for it was quite apparent the
girl was scared out of her wits.

   I beckoned to my visitor's chair and Charlotte gratefully sat down, her
short skirt riding slightly up those lovely legs as she did so and I was
amused, after last night's performance, to see how modestly she pulled the
hem back down in front of me.

   'Charlotte, I understand this is not a pleasant experience for you...' I
said gently '...but actions have to be accounted for, young lady, and we
have a few things to settle this afternoon.'

   She nodded her head and muttered 'Yes Sir' gulping desperately in
distress.

   'First of all ..' I enquired '..did you make yourself comfortable before
arriving at my office?'

   She looked first uncomprehending, then blushed slighly as my meaning
sank in.

   'N.no Sir..' she gabbled '...lessons just finished and I didn't want to
be late and I'm sorry Sir and...'

   'Alright, alright...' I replied '..I understand.  Now you could be here
for a while yet so I suggest you go and do that now.  I'll give you ten
minutes'

   Gratefully she got up and left my office, then when the door closed
behind her, I contacted Helen Fletcher on my intercom.  'I think we'll need
you in about 20 minutes' I said and smiled with anticipation.

   A few minutes later, Charlotte returned to my office looking a little
fresher though obviously very frightened.  I motioned to the chair and once
more she sat down, pulling her skirt down as she did so.  Her eyes were
wide with expectation and fear and I leaned across my desk and began.

   'Now Charlotte, we are going to discuss your problems with schoolwork
and school discipline and I want no interruptions from you until I tell you
to speak.  Is that clear?'

   Charlotte gulped and muttered 'Yes Sir', her pretty face a picture of
misery.

   'Miss Fletcher has reported to me that over the past few months your
previously excellent work has declined to such a degree that you have
ceased to be one of the top five students in the form.  Your work in fact
is so bad that you are now perilously close to being moved to a lower
stream.  Isn't that true, Charlotte?'

   The girl snuffled a little, her head downcast, and muttered, almost
inaudibly, 'Yes Sir'

   'Don't mutter, girl..' I rasped '...look at me when I speak and answer
the question properly!'

   Charlotte's head shot up, her face blushed deeper red and she said in a
trembling voice 'Yes Sir!'

   I continued '...and added to this decline, Charlotte, you appear to have
problems doing homework, let alone doing it well!  Is that also true?'

   Charlotte's face creased in distress 'I..I suppose so Sir' she faltered.

   'Suppose so...?' I replied '...you KNOW so, Charlotte.  You know so
because Miss Fletcher has had cause to put you in detention has she not? 
On more than one occasion since January?'

   The girl crossed and uncrossed her legs, her throat gulping desperately.

   'Yes Sir..I.I'm sorry Sir'

   At this point I became slightly theatrical and banged my fist on the
desk, provoking a whimper from Charlotte as she shrank back in the chair.

   'Don't insult my intelligence with 'Sorry' not when you have
deliberately lied to get out of more than one detention..and that is a very
serious issue indeed'

   Charlotte began to shake 'Please Sir..' she wailed '..it was just once,
last night, oh please I'm so...'

   I banged the desk again and glared at the errant girl , now quivering in
her chair.

   'Don't answer me back..and do not compound your lies with more lies. 
I'm sure if I visited your mother and asked if you came home from school
with a migraine two weeks ago, you would be shown up for the little liar
you are!'

   The girl was weeping now and I decided it was time for the 'good cop'
role once more.

   'Charlotte, you have shown all the signs of being a first class student.
I know your parents want you to go to University and you have all the
talent in the world.  However all that is going to be squandered if you
allow yourself to be distracted by elements outside school.  Now what has
caused this sudden deterioration in your work and your attitude....and I
warn you now Charlotte that 'I don't know Sir' will only make me more angry
and your punishment that much more severe'

   The girl gasped, blushed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

   'It.its my boyfriend, Sir and I suppose he is all I can think about. 
I'm sorry, Sir..I'll do better I promise I...'

   I nodded and stared at her.

   'After last night's little performance it would have been difficult NOT
to admit that wouldn't it, young lady.  I wonder if you would have been so
forthright had I not caught you red handed so to speak?'

   The girl blushed hotly and I raised my hand to still any further
explanations.

   'Last night's performance in the Alhambra, even had you not committed
any other disciplinary breaches, would be worthy of punishment in itself.
That a girl from MY school should dress and behave in such a sluttish
manner was absolutely outrageous.  You were, in a public place, allowing a
young boy liberties which were totally shocking.  Have you no self
respect?'

   Charlotte was weeping loudly now and I waited for her sobbing to subside
a little.

   'You will not thank me for what I am about to do, Charlotte, certainly
not in the immediate future but if today's lesson sets you on the straight
and narrow then it will have been worth while!  Now get up and stand at the
side of my desk!'

   The girl sat bolt upright, her face bright red, her eyes moist for she
had no idea what I had in mind but I suspect she was beginning to think she
had given up her boyfriend's name for precious little safety in return. 
Hastily she got to her feet and did as I had demanded, her slim frame
trembling uneasily.

   I pressed the intercom and spoke to Helen Fletcher, who was waiting for
my call in the teachers study.

   'I think we are about ready, Helen' I said as Charlotte stared at me in
bemused terror.

   At that moment my study door opened and in walked two people, Helen
Fletcher ushering a very red faced young boy in front of her.  I smiled
grimly and stood up.

   'Well well, young Kenyon I believe.  So we meet formally at last!'

   The look on Charlotte's face was priceless as she stared in shock and
horror at the boy who stood, grim faced, in front of me.

   'I..I'm sorry Philip..' she cried '...I didn't mean to tell..I..I..'

   My respect for the lad increased as he stared across at the girl and
gave her a comforting smile despite his predicament.

   'It's not your fault!' he said gently and the way he looked at her said
it all.

   I decided it was time to play tough once more.

   'Enough of this.  You can comfort each other in your own time once these
proceedings are finished...' I thundered '...but in the meantime you are
both here on account of your disgraceful conduct.  Kenyon, you are aware
that Dr.Beecham has seen fit to allow me to deal with this issue, as it was
my wife who was grossly offended by your behaviour and rudeness..which is
why you are here in my office!'

   The boy flushed but said nothing.  I continued.

   'I understand, Kenyon, that you too have lied as to your whereabouts in
order to consort with Miss Webb but Dr Beecham has made it clear that,
provided I punish you severely..and I fully intend to do that..then that
will be the end of the matter'

   The boy hung his head and a choking sob came from the stunned Charlotte,
now certain that her sacrifice had been in vain.  I pressed on.

   'I know Charlotte's parents well and I know the way she has been brought
up.  I don't know you at all, Kenyon, but on first acquaintance you appear
to be a boy of some intelligence and good background.  I know what
Charlotte's mother would say if I were to tell her that her daughter was
behaving like a common street tart in a public place.  What would your
parents say about you mauling a girl in public as if she were some
plaything to work off your juvenile lusts?'

   The boy stared shamefaced at the carpet and muttered 'I..I don't know,
Sir' and Charlotte continued to sob.  I decided to spare them nothing.

   'You seemed to be on a voyage of mutual discovery..' I observed dryly
'..no matter how intimate, no matter how public..and regardless of the
concerns of decent people around you who have no desire to witness such
disgraceful behaviour.  When my wife attempted to make her feelings clear,
you, Kenyon, responded in an offensive and vulgar fashion which was simply
intolerable!!'

   The boy raised his head and blinked, swallowing hard then offered

   'I'm sorry Sir, I had no idea.....'

   '..that it was my wife?  So that makes it acceptable does it?  Had it
been some other member of the public your rudeness would have been
justified?  I think not, young man and it is society's good fortune and
your bad luck that it was MY wife you offended, thus suitable recompense
can be forthcoming!'

   The boy said nothing more but looked across to where Charlotte stood
weeping softly and they exchanged brief glances and I saw the boy mouth a
reassuring endearment.  'Touching' I thought idly before returning to the
job in hand.

   'Very well..' I intoned '..it is clear to me that both of you, in your
apparent besotted state, have been prepared not only to lie and deceive
your teachers but to disregard all standards of civilised behaviour in the
process.  You seem obsessed with discovering each others bodies in a public
arena where such conduct is totally unacceptable.  Well you are going to be
punished for all that and in the process you may find yourselves assisted
in your voyage of discovery.  Whether you enjoy the experience however is a
matter of some conjecture!'

   Then boy's face had paled by this time, for I believe he had some idea
what was in store, but Charlotte simply looked shocked and uncomprehending.
I decided it was time to illuminate her darkness.

   'Miss Fletcher..' I said to the young teacher who had stood in silence
while I delivered my homily '..your assistance please!' and she followed me
to the corner of my large office where, between two filing cabinets was an
item covered by a piece of waterproof sheet for I liked certain items in my
office to be discreetly hidden from visitors.

   I removed the sheeting to reveal an oak stool about 3 ft high with a
curved leather top which Miss Fletcher and I moved to the centre of the
room.

   I stared at Charlotte, now chalky white, her breathing rapid as she
stared at the punishment stool in horror and then at me with pleading eyes
that spelled 'betrayed'.

   'I think it is clear what is to happen now...' I said sternly '..and no
doubt Charlotte you are remembering my promise to you earlier this morning.
I promised that if you offered up your boyfriend's name you would not
receive the cane.  Well I am a man of my word and indeed you will not
receive the cane.  I did not, however, promise to excuse you corporal
punishment nor did I suggest such a thing.  Indeed your behaviour merits
nothing less...'

   I reached into my desk drawer and withdrew a twin tailed tawse, slapping
it hard down onto the desk as Charlotte cried out and the boy stared in
horror.

   '...and this instrument is my solution.  You may or may not know that
this substitutes most effectively for the cane in Scottish schools and I'm
sure it will leave a suitable imprint on your backsides which you will
remember for some time!'

   I stared at the girl now trembling in fear.

   'I believe that courtesy decrees ladies first, does it not, however ill
fitting that accolade might be in your case, my girl!  So come over here to
the stool!'

   Charlotte glanced in despair in the direction of her boyfriend, her eyes
wide with fright, then shakily walked toward the stool and stood trembling,
her slim body very erect.

   I gazed at the girl for a few seconds and picked up the tawse, slapping
it against my palm.

   'I regard the conduct of both of you as utterly reprehensible..' I said
grimly '...and deserving of severe retribution.  I am also a believer in
following tradition, which sadly for you two involves a considerable loss
of modesty but, on the evidence of last night, I cannot believe that means
a great deal.  In Scotland the tawse is considered to be most effective
when applied to the bare bottom and I fully subscribe to that view!'

   I paused for a moment as my words sank home and the girl turned her face
to me, eyes wide with shock, her face as pale as that of a ghost as I
ordered

   'Charlotte, take your knickers down!'

   For a second Charlotte hesitated, her head shaking from side to side in
disbelief.  A low gasp came from behind me and I turned to glare at Kenyon
who stood with his mouth agape but, if he'd thought of making any other
comment my steely glare silenced it and he simply stood by the side of a
rather red faced Helen Fletcher.

   'I'm waiting, Charlotte!' I said sternly and with a sob of despair the
girl reached under her skirt and soon a pair of regulation green school
knickers slithered down to her ankles.

   The girl's slim body was heaving with sobs as I ordered her to lie
across the punishment stool her hands reaching for the horizontal bars on
the far side.  The position left Charlotte's head and upper body over the
far side of the stool and her bottom at the highest point.  Without further
ado I flipped back the girl's skirt to reveal her pale slim thighs and
above, the shapely globes of her small bottom, the muscles clenching in
fear and embarrassment.  Though Charlotte clenched her thighs as tightly
together as she could, her legs were so slim that there was no hiding the
pouch of her vagina in that tightly bent position.  She was something to
behold, that was certain and I heard a gulp from behind me, Kenyon
obviously as taken by the view as I.

   'I will treat you leniently on this occasion, Charlotte..' I said firmly
'..six strokes of the tawse!'

   She whimpered softly and, not wishing to prolong her distress I stepped
back and raised my arm.  With a short backswing then a flick of my wrist on
the return journey I lashed the twin tails against the girl's buttocks and
watched with delight as her flesh indented and an anguished cry came from
Charlotte's lips.  Bright pink twin tracks were now imprinted across her
bottom as the cheeks resumed their shape in time for stroke two.  I brought
the tawse down just a little lower and this time there was a choking scream
and Charlotte's legs began to move frantically as her bottom reddened a
little more.  I recall that stroke three was applied to the area where
bottom and thigh join, that sensitive area of the gluteus always guaranteed
to produce the maximum reaction and this was no disappointment.  Charlotte
howled in anguish and her legs began to kick so frantically that her
knickers fell right off.  I finished the punishment by overlaying the tawse
over my previous marks, prompting howls of agony, and ensuring that the
girl would remember this day for a very long time.

   After the 6th stroke I told Charlotte to get up and dress.  She
slithered from the stool on unsteady legs and, tears pouring down her
cheeks, she hastily pulled on her knickers and winced audibly as they made
contact with her red hot bottom.  She stood, head bowed and red faced, just
dancing from foot to foot rubbing her bottom and weeping.  I knew from
experience that the heat of her knickers now enclosing the punished area
would intensify her distress but , from my perspective, that was an
extremely satisfactory outcome.

   I glanced at young Kenyon and apart from the heat in his face and his
spasmodic gulping, the huge tent in his trousers made it transparently
clear what effect Charlotte's punishment had made on him.  This might make
the next few minutes awkward and I resolved to allow a few minutes for him
to calm down.  Miss Fletcher too was very red in the face but she managed a
reassuring smile of support in my direction.

   I told Kenyon to come to the stool and to take down his trousers and
pants.  Charlotte, now standing at the side of Miss Fletcher, looked up at
the instruction and her eyes widened.  The boy at first flushed angrily,
but suddenly he smiled at Charlotte and at Helen Fletcher, stared at me
impudently and walked to the stool.  He undid his trouser belt, pulled down
his trousers and underpants then before I could move, he half turned to
grin at Charlotte and Helen Fletcher showing them both a most impressive
erection.  Charlotte gasped and Miss Fletcher's face glowed bright scarlet
even down to her neck and throat.  The expression in her eyes was hardly
one of distress however!

   'You are an extremely arrogant boy, Kenyon, and there will be extra
strokes for that little peformance.  Twelve strokes of the tawse!' I said
grimly.

   The boy stared at me and , without a further word, lay across the stool
as Charlotte had done his muscular bottom raised high.  He muttered
something which could have been 'Do your worst' but I decided to ignore it.
I was going to show this arrogant youth no mercy and I swung my arm back
and snapped the tawse down as hard as I could.  The resultant thwack across
his buttocks produced a deep crater which sprung back to reveal two deep
marks.  The boy grunted but made no other sound.  I continued to punish his
buttocks as hard as I could and by the time I finished there was hardly
part of his bottom which was not bright scarlet and the first signs of dark
bruising were beginning to show.  I told him to rise, which he did and
hastily dressed with no repeat exhibitionism, and, although there were
tears in his eyes, he had taken a very harsh punishment with great courage
and with hardly a murmur.  I admired bravery and my opinion of the lad rose
considerably.

   Charlotte stared at the boy and, even through her own distress, I could
see how much she ached for his pain and his distress and the look in his
eyes showed reciprocal concern.  I gave them both a brief lecture about
future conduct and, to Charlotte, what a continuation of her present path
through school would mean then dismissed them from my presence.

   The effect of such a humilating punishment acted on Charlotte like a
bolt of electricity.  Suddenly her class work picked up, her attendances
were back to normal and her examination results were all that we expected.
Two years went by and she excelled in her 6th form work until that
wonderful day when she knocked on my door, her face wreathed in smiles, to
tell me she had been accepted at Oxford University to read Chemistry.  I
stood up to offer her my hand in congratulation but to my surprise and
delight she threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek.

   'Im sorry Sir..' she said meekly '..I shouldn't have done that but I
wouldn't have got this far had it not been for you!' She blushed brightly
and there was no need to say more.



   I heard nothing more of Kenyon, of course, and didn't enquire..after all
he was not my responsibility..until some six years after that fateful
punishment day when a letter dropped through my mailbox.

   When I began to read it over breakfast I at first choked with anger over
my egg soldiers, then a mood of shocked disbelief took over which
eventually turned into head shaking chortles of admiration at the sheer
impudence contained therein:It read:Dr Robert Webster Headmaster Mattingley
Girls Grammar School

   Dear Dr Webster

   I'm sure you are surprised to hear from me after all these years.  Maybe
you don't recall my name but I'm sure my bottom must stick in your memory
as I'd guess its one of the few you've whacked that wasn't female!  You
will, I'm sure, recall Miss Charlotte Webb and HER pretty little bottom on
which you displayed your eager enthusiasm with the Scottish tawse!  Well
Charlie sends her love and wants you to be the first to hear that she got a
first class Honours degree in Chemistry at Oxford and has the promise of a
wonderful opportunity with Beecham Chemicals in their new Research and
Development Division.  I'm sure you're not interested much in me but I too
got a good law degree from Birmingham and..best news of all..Charlie and I
are not only still together but are planning to get married early in the
New Year.

   I'm not writing just to send gossip but to thank you for your
contribution to our joint success, though maybe not quite in the way you
anticipated that day when you gave us both the strap.  You see, I'm sure
you think that Charlie's educational success was due to her learning
lessons from that humiliating experience and, henceforth, living a
cloistered existence while she studied for her examinations.  Not a bit of
it!

   She did work terribly hard of course but the reason she was able to get
her mind back on track was because she started 'getting it regular' as they
say among the working class...or to put it another way we started fucking
like a pair of ferrets..and I have you to thank for that!

   You see that night in the Alhambra was the first time I had got beyond
the kissing stage and I thought I would never get inside Charlie's pants!
You changed all that with one wonderful dose of the strap.  I wouldn't be a
bit surprised if you had as big a hard on as I did because watching that
strap redden Charlie's arse was one of the most wonderful things I had ever
seen!  You hurt me like hell when it was my turn but, by God it was worth
it for what happened later!

   Charlie and I met up outside the school grounds and decided to walk home
the long way through the park to allow her burning arse to cool down a bit
before she had to face her mum.  She was still pretty tearful then but I
had the idea of popping into Boots the Chemists for some cold cream on the
way back.  So we found a secluded thicket in the park where, without much
concern over propriety, Charlie pulled up her skirt and pulled her pants
down so I could rub the cold cream into her bum..and by God it was sore!

   Rubbing that cream in to her bare arse made her wriggle and moan and it
wasn't long before my cock was crowing again!  I continued to rub her
bottom all over and decided to explore her nether regions while the
opportunity availed itself.  My fingers soon discovered ,amazingly to my
young uninformed mind after all she'd been through, that her fanny was as
wet as a fishmongers slab!  She offered no resistance to my probing hand
and before long I undid my trousers and..well I will spare you the details!

   It was only when we'd finished and I lay cuddling her that Charlie
admitted that, although she was ashamed and humiliated, and although the
punishment really hurt, she was startled mid way through the punishment to
realise that the stinging strap allied to the denuding of her bottom in
front of us all was making her feel very sexually aroused!  My consequent
exposure and strapping was the icing on her cake!

   From that moment on, Dr Webster, we had it every day we could, in every
position we could and, as a little aperitif, I would do 'Webster'
impressions in the bedroom, giving her a stern lecture before whipping her
bare little arse with a suitcase strap..and she loved every minute of it!

   So I'm afraid you allowed a genie out of its bottle and two people took
to spanking, and consequently fucking, like ducks to water!!

   I have written this with Charlie's full agreement, as we wouldn't want
an old lecher like you to become sanctimonious about his motives or his
successes.  You may wonder why we have been so reckless as you might take
this to our parents or to the school board and attempt to shame us.  Well,
Dr Webster, I took the liberty of checking the Local Education Authority
rule book and, although you were perfectly entitled to punish our bare
bottoms, such punishment is specifically banned when a person of the
opposite sex not authorised to conduct such punishment, is present.  So you
broke the LEA rules and furthermore my atudies tell me you may well have
fallen foul of the 'indecency' laws too.

   So, old boy, we won't say a word if you don't, for Charlie and I have
found a blissful existence and our eyes have been opened to new and
exciting experiences for which we both thank you from the heart of our
bottoms!

   Yours Sincerely

   Philip Kenyon LLB'



   Well what could I do ?  The damned boy was right and I knew it.  I
swallowed my pride, ignored Kenyon's impudence and wrote back simply 'Your
observations have been noted.  My congratulations to you both!'



   ***********************

   Now over 50 years have elapsed since that letter arrived and my wife and
I have been invited to their 50th wedding anniversary.  It's a wonderful
gesture and Rosalind and I are determined to go.  I am nearly 88 now and
more than a little dodgy on my legs but I wouldn't miss this for the world!
At last, after all these years I can gain a little revenge for young
Kenyon's outrageous cheek when I choose my time to watch them open their
Golden Wedding present in public....a genuine hand stitched Lochgelly tawse
with the names 'Charlotte' and 'Philip' embossed on each tail!