Copyright© August 2004
Angela went to her room to get ready. Newly-pressed grey skirt, clean regulation white knickers, long white socks, light blue blouse. She stripped off, went to the washbasin and soaped her crack, making sure it was all spotless. There was nothing worse than having people stare at a dirty bottom. Especially when they were about to punish it. She dressed carefully and did her hair, putting a discreet black bow in her medium length silver blonde ponytail. And with a heavy heart she headed for the school offices, sitting on the bench outside with a nauseous, sinking feeling in her stomach.
She knew the rules of the orphanage, through close personal acquaintance, and she realised she was in for one hell of a beating. It had been stupid to break the dishes in the kitchen, a gesture of pure anger, and Miss Berry had caught her red-handed. To make things worse she had called the woman a "stupid cow", in front of the other girls, which, although close to the truth, was hardly diplomatic.
Through the door she could hear the sound of talking, the Director's booming voice a little above those of two women. Berry was in there, of course, and Miss Saunders as well, a woman she had come to fear over the two years she'd been confined to this establishment. Angela knew the routine, but that made it only worse. They had been introduced to the Disciplinary Rules on their first morning, and she had witnessed the first caning that very night as poor Elaine Smithers had received four at the foot of her bed for standing out of line. The first time she'd felt the "taste of the rod", as Barnes the director liked to call it, was one week later, for being "consistently insolent", and she had admired the stripes on her bottom for three or four days after that.
The door opened suddenly, and there stood Berry with a thin smirk on her lips. "You can come in now, Angela", she said in a falsely pleasant voice. There was a hint of jubilation in her tone which made Angela's stomach churn even more. It meant they had agreed a price for her to pay which pleased the old bitch. Saunders was standing on the other side of the table, and Barnes was closer to her and facing her as she entered. She dropped her eyes in apprehension and embarrassment, but walked towards them slowly and stopped, shuffling her feet a little. Berry shut the door behind them and walked past her to stand beside Saunders on the other side of the table. This struck Angela as unusual. Normally, the canings were given by Director Barnes or one of the senior mistresses and there were only two adults present. Three seemed more intimidating and worrying.
Angela looked at her toes and bit her lip as she waited for the ritual to begin. She was glad she'd had time to change into a clean pair of knickers and socks.
"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" began Barnes. A mood of anger and defiance swelled in Angela's breast, and she looked him in the eye.
"I hate you all, I hate her in particular, and I wish you were all dead!" she spat petulantly. Barnes sucked in his breath in anger, and a wicked smile came over his face.
"Your flesh will pay for your rudeness and misbehaviour, and we'll see if you're as wilful in twenty minutes time." And turning to the two women, he nodded to them to start the proceedings.
"Toes and nose to the table, you wicked child" ordered Saunders. Angela shuffled stiffly forward until the top of her thighs touched the oak table, and with a shudder she bent forward until her nose touched the wooden surface.
"Hands to the front" commanded the women who stood before her. Her face reached more than half-way across the polished surface and she was able to grip the edge in front of her quite easily. She felt the other edge hard against her pubis, and the position made her buttocks stick out nicely behind. The younger girls had to stand on tip-toes or, for the really little ones, a step was provided to raise them to the best punishment position.
Angela could just see behind her to the left, and she watched Barnes step over to the bucket by the wall in which he kept his canes. He took one out and flexed it, and thought for a moment before choosing another. This was thicker than she had seen before, and made a wicked noise as he swished it through the air. Then, without wasting any more time he stepped towards her and laid the cane on the table.
Standing immediately behind her she felt him grasp her school skirt by the hem and slowly raise it until the whole of her bottom was uncovered. He pulled it up at the front as well so that it bunched under her lower stomach and groin. Spreading it out over her back he coughed, slightly, and then addressed the two women in a menacingly soft voice.
"All right Miss Saunders, Miss Barnes?" She heard them murmur "Yes Sir" and suddenly she realised why they were there! Each one took hold of one of her wrists in a powerful grip and pulled her arms apart and partly over the edge of the oak table. Angela went onto her tiptoes and had to spread her legs a little as her hips moved slightly forward.
The cane landed right across the seat of her panties before she had even time to realise Barnes was starting. "One" she hissed. She knew better than to fail to count out the strokes, since the man would be sure to cane for ever unless she did so.
As the second cut landed she felt the fire from the first, and yelped like a scalded cat.
The next four strokes landed in quick succession, and then there was a pause.
By now Angela was sobbing and tears were pricking in her eyes. She thought for a moment that the caning was over, but strangely the women seemed to grip her wrists even more tightly. Then she felt Barnes fumbling with the top of her knickers and pulling them down over her bottom. He pulled them right down to her ankles, round her white socks and, to her amazement, pulled off her black shoes and left her in her stockinged feet. Almost immediately the cane began to fall rhythmically on her bottom. There was no time for her to call out the strokes now, and she could not help wriggling her arse to the right and to the left as the cane bit into her young flesh. She let out a scream, and then another, and within a few minutes was screaming and blubbering and crying uncontrollably.
"Take that you little bitch," she heard Barnes muttering breathlessly as he continued to flog her crimson bottom. He must have given her twenty strokes or so before it suddenly ended, and the women simultaneously released her arms.
"A fine thrashing if ever I saw one," said Berry in an admiring tone, and both women abandoned the sobbing Angela on the table and went round to stand in a huddle with Barnes. Angela's sobbing and convulsive intakes of breath slowly subsided, and she slowly and painfully stood upright. As she turned her head she saw Barnes looking straight at her and, curiously, she noticed he had his right hand, the arm that had beaten her, round Saunders' waist - as though to rest it, but in fact pulling her closer to him.
.... There is more of this story ...