by Susan Thomas
Joy was dressing to go out for the evening. She wriggled her way into her tight-fitting stretch jeans, with fashionable slits in various places, but contrasted it with a richly-coloured sparkly top. She put her long hair into a French plait and was just about to put on make-up when her phone signalled an incoming message. She sighed, reached for her phone, and then gasped in horror. The message was headed, 'Notification of Punishment'.
Her hands shook. This really couldn't be happening. No teacher had been punished so far; of course they all knew it could happen, in theory. In theory they were all subject to corporal punishment but the first two weeks had been a period of grace where only warnings were given, and somehow they all assumed that it would always be like that. They knew the rules and stuck to them... well, more or less.
'Reasons for Punishment: 1. Late to meal. 2. Late starting teaching duties.' Yes, she'd known about those but she'd only been a bit late. They were still serving the meals and the girls she was to teach were behaving properly. No big deal. Then she read the third reason: '3. Failure to hand in NQT folder for checking.' Shit, shit, shit, shit. Yes she had forgotten. Well, in fact the folder wasn't up to date but that was irrelevant, now there were three faults. In the disciplinary code three faults equalled punishment.
Her hands now trembling so much it was hard to hold the phone still, she read what the punishment was to be. 'Three strokes of the cane, mild.' She knew what that meant. Three strokes of the cane over her clothing. 'Moderate' would have meant over her underwear and 'Best' would have meant on her bare bottom. As a punishment it wasn't the worst she could get but it was still a punishment.
Another incoming message: 'An appointment has been made to visit Room 22.' Joy glanced at the time and her heart began to beat quickly. Thirty minutes from now. It would take fifteen minutes to walk from her room to Room 22. It was right on the other side of the college campus. She could ask for a postponement, but was that really a good idea? Miss Cedar-Green might not view a delay in punishment very favourably. Anyway, wouldn't it be best to get it over with?
Could she appeal the punishment? Teachers could do that if they thought it unfair but she had no time. Now eight minutes and she must walk. Anyway was it even unfair? This was the stark reality of the contract she had signed. She, Joy Townsend, adult and professional, was going to have to bend over to be caned. Why in God's name had she agreed to all this? In her heart she knew the answer to that. All the benefits of coming to Alderton College had glittered like gold and she really hadn't believed that she could be punished.
Joy couldn't stop trembling, much as if she were cold. Best just go and get it over with. It was only three and over her clothes. Not so bad really. Humiliating maybe... well, definitely humiliating and extremely embarrassing. Maybe she should consider leaving and getting an ordinary teaching post. Right now she'd be late out with her friends but they'd understand when she told them. In a way it was a distinction.
The first teacher to be punished. Joy knew now that it was really going to happen so she wouldn't be the last. The walk saw Joy's mood see-saw in highs and lows with great rapidity. One second thinking what an adventure, something she could tell her friends. The next scared silly, worrying about how much it would hurt. It had to hurt didn't it. The disciplinary sergeants were three very fit men. Each one was a former special forces NCO.
She'd seen them both together and on their own. They were super fit, tough looking, not scary as such; but strong, fit men like that were bound to cane hard. Only one was an American, a local man, one was British and the other South African. They incorporated their disciplinary duties together with supervising the security team that kept the college safe from any and all intruders. Joy passed the swimming pool and gymnasiums and entered the lower floor of the main building.
The lowest floor, more basement than anything, was utilitarian. A plain corridor, spotlessly clean, but plain vinyl floor and painted walls, nothing fancy. Painted utilitarian doors hid stock rooms and storage. Room 22 was directly opposite Room 21, which was the electrical room. Joy had no idea what lay beyond its sign. The door marked 'Room 22' was painted a pale green, the walls around it a creamy colour; institutional colours.
There was a button entry system outside. Joy had seen it on their induction tour but now, with shaking hand, she must press it. A green light allowed her to open the door and walk in. The system was designed to protect the privacy of any teacher enduring a punishment but Joy was the very first to use it. She opened the door and walked in.
The room was also utilitarian in appearance: plain cream walls, light brown vinyl floor although highly polished, a plain table with metal legs and a plastic top, a sturdy chair with thick metal frame and wooden back and seat, and a metal cupboard, the contents hidden by a locked door. A tablet sat on the table and beside it stood the American disciplinary sergeant. Sergeant Stafford was the biggest of the three sergeants, a local man with an extremely short haircut and a strong square jaw.
Sergeant Stafford looked at the young woman and saw at a glance that she was scared. That pleased him. Not that he liked inflicting pain or fear but the teachers must respect the rules and punishments or the whole thing was useless. He also saw she was wearing very tight jeans and that upset him. During teaching hours the teachers must wear skirts or dresses. That was as it should be.
His wife and daughters only wore skirts or dresses, except at the beach, but she was off duty and once off duty modesty was the only rule. At least jeans that tight would provide a good target when she bent over. He began the procedure following the rule book to the letter. "Good evening, are you Miss Joy Townsend?"
Joy dredged from her memory the correct way to address a disciplinary sergeant. Mutual courtesy and respect had been emphasized. "Er... Yes Sir. Yes, Sergeant Stafford."
"Thank you Miss Townsend. My instructions are that you must receive three strokes of the cane, mild. Is that your understanding?"
"Yes Sir." Joy's voice trembled as she answered but Sergeant Stafford took this as a good sign. She wasn't taking her punishment lightly.
"Now Miss Townsend, you do understand that I do not set any punishments nor do I have the power to alter them."
"Yes... yes I do understand Sergeant." Again her voice wobbled.
"It is now my duty to remind you that this whole session is being videoed, but only Miss Cedar-Green has access to the video. Should you wish to make a complaint about my behaviour you must do so within three months as then the video will be deleted."
By now Joy wanted to scream, 'Get on with it please!' but resisted and instead said, "Thank you Sergeant."
"I must warn you Miss Townsend that it is my duty to make this punishment as painful as possible. I shall not shirk my duty but there is nothing personal in that. As it is only three strokes mild I don't think you need the support of the chair, but you may have it if you wish."
Joy had never been caned before and had no idea how painful it would be. Equally she had no wish to embarrass herself so just said, "No chair thank you Sergeant."
"Very good Miss, now please bend over and touch your toes."
Joy understood the instruction. Her manual had diagrams showing correct positions so she bit her lips, swallowed nervously, and bent over. She wasn't to know that Sergeant Stafford was unhappy that her legs weren't perfectly straight and her fingers were more touching the top of her feet rather than her toes. However, the headmistress had instructed that they should allow for nervousness and Joy was a very young teacher.
When he looked, the young teacher's fancy top hung down partly over her bottom. "I'm sorry Miss, I will have to lift your top somewhat."
"Of course, I'm sorry Sergeant. I didn't think."
"Quite alright Miss." He lifted the top seeing only a bare lower back underneath. This gave him a tiny insight into what it would be like to cane a teacher on the bare bottom. No wonder they had to go through so many psychological tests to get the job. He now saw that the jeans were stretched very tightly indeed across her well-shaped bottom. He also saw, with disapproval, that there was no panty line. She was either wearing a thong or no underwear.
Disapproval was irrelevant; it was not his business and not pertinent to the caning. He rested the cane across her bottom. They all three had trained hard for this moment. They had studied caning in theory, spent several days with a professional disciplinarian punishing dummies, and finally, and unbelievably, caned some volunteer women. Apparently the women liked being punished. All of them were in their thirties or forties except one woman who was fifty-two.
The three sergeants had thrashed the women, who surely wouldn't sit down for at least a week, but they claimed to have enjoyed it. Their only reward was a huge bouquet of flowers and a large box of excellent chocolates. They did receive travelling expenses, but given how very welted their bottoms were it seemed amazingly odd to him. As he rested the cane on the young teacher's bottom he saw a shudder go through her. She would not enjoy her caning.
He raised the cane and tapped her bottom to ensure that he would land the cane where it was intended to land. He heard her gasp. Now he raised the cane, well above shoulder height, and brought it down with awful force and a final venomous flick at the last.
Crack!
The sound of the cane cracking across the tight material covering her bottom filled the room. He saw a line on the material of her jeans.
The first stroke of the cane cracked across the centre of her bottom with great force making Joy gasp. Then an exceedingly hot pain followed, a narrow band of throbbing fire that wrung a cry of "Aaah! Oh my, that hurts." She wriggled and lifted her hands from her feet.
Sergeant Stafford remained courteous as his protocol required. "Please stay in position Miss."
"Sorry Sir." Truthfully it was more whimper than a reply but Joy once again bent to touch her toes and stayed still.
Crack!
The second struck just below the first and was equally forceful and it too left a fierce burning line. Joy wailed, "Ooooh, oh my."
"Please keep still Miss. I don't wish to report you. You've had two strokes, only one to go."
"Sorry, sorry Sir." Joy felt abashed. She wasn't handling this well at all.
Crack!
The third stroke cracked across her bottom, once again filling the room with the terrible sound of her punishment. It was a powerful stroke that felt to Joy as if it had buried itself in her bottom leaving molten lava behind. "It hurts!" she yelled.
Sergeant Stafford took her cry as a serious comment, not the cry of a young woman who had never been caned before.
"Yes Miss, we are instructed to make it painful, but that was the last stroke. You may stand now. Your punishment is ended."
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.