Sarah Caned

 

As the stroke of midnight rang out from the school clock above the quad we ranged along the far wall of the gymnasium. We must all have had the simultaneous thought that Sarah would funk it and not turn up because we all stiffened in mild surprise as the door creaked open. There was only one light switched on and at first she had difficulty spotting us on the other side of the room. She. too, registered surprise at seeing us all but strove to move confidently as she approached the Head Girl, Rowena.
She was dressed, as, directed, in the regulation white aertex shirt, with the shadow of her bra clearly visible, navy pleated gym shorts, white ankle socks and white plimsolls. Her hair was caught back in an elastic band and she looked for all the world as though she were about to take part in a normal sports lesson. Rowena circled her, carefully inspecting her outfit for faults, evidently finding none. She stood directly in front of Sarah and they stared into each other's eyes, willing the other to speak or look away.
Eventually, Rowena stepped back and addressed Sarah.
'Well done, Sarah! You have arrived punctually and dressed according to my instructions. I assume from this that you wish the punishment to proceed as agreed?'
Sarah looked away and mumbled an affirmative response
'Good, good. I suppose you are dressed exactly as required?' Rowena asked ominously. We looked at each other in confusion: anyone could see that Sarah was wearing our full PE kit. Still regarding the toes of her gym shoes, Sarah muttered something to the effect of 'Of course', but started violently as Rowena snatched up the side of the flared shorts, revealing scanty pink knickers beneath. Again, once we were in the sixth form, school rules about underclothing were not enforced, but evidently Rowena wanted Sarah to fully adopt the role of naughty schoolgirl, panties and all.
‘I really don't think these are regulation knickers, Sarah. ' she said 'Remove your right plimsoll.' The embarrassment Sarah felt must have been almost matched by that of the rest of us. There was a games mistress in the school who, if she caught a pupil wearing non-regulation briefs for her class, would make the girl remove one of her plimsolls and spank her behind with it. Surely Rowena wouldn’t ... ? But she did. 'Touch your toes. Sarah’ she commanded and then proceeded to slap the backs of Sarah's thighs twice, just below her bum-cheeks. A red disc appeared on the back of each leg, obviously quite painful, but Sarah stoically ignored them as she replaced her shoe and tied the lace. She then presented herself to the group once more, now slightly flushed.
'We won't waste time, Sarah,' said Rowena fetching the long whippy cane from where she had earlier propped it in the corner. 'Tonight's punishment is for breaking school bounds and as you know, you are to receive ten strokes of the Head Girl’s cane across your bottom. Tell me that you agree that the punishment is fair and that you wish me to administer it now.'
After a moment's pause. Sarah recited, 'I broke school bounds and deserve to receive ten strokes of your cane across my bottom. Please begin my punishment, Rowena’.'
'Bend ever the bars, Sarah!'

The horizontal parallel bars had been set up with the lower one just a few inches above the floor. The other one was fixed around waist level. The equipment used to facilitate a thrashing varied according to the Prefects' moods: sometimes it was the vaulting horse, on the other occasions the box,yet others might find the victim kneeling over the low wooden forms. By far the favourite piece of apparatus, however, if the girl was well-developed, was the horizontal bars, positioned so that she had to really stretch to grip the lower beam and thus accentuating the target area.

Sarah sighed in resignation to her fate, stood on tiptoe and draped herself over the hard smooth wooden upper bar, grasping the edge of the wooden beam with her fingertips and spreading her legs to maintain her balance. We all knew, from personal and vicarious experience, how difficult it was to maintain this position, because it put a great strain or one’s leg muscles and one always felt that the slightest movement of either limb would cause one to roll over the bars completely. The feeling of vulnerability was therefore very intense. We knew from information gathered throughout the grapevine that at St Pats only one bar was used at waist level with the boys arms spread along it. However, we preferred our technique - or at least, we did if we were the caner rather than the girl to be caned.
Rowena stood behind and slightly to the left of Sarah, her arm raising the supple cane high slowly and deliberately. We were mesmerised by the sight, silently arranging ourselves around her, but well out of the range of the cane, for a better view.

Suddenly the weapon sliced through the air – far too quickly for our eyes to follow and landed and landed with an echoing CRACK across Sarah's curvy rear. She grunted, but retained her composure. The second stroke fell after a moment’s pause, giving the recipient just enough time to fully appreciate the effect of its predecessor before impact of its own sting slightly lower down the navy-clad rump. Apart from a short gasp and adjusting her fingers on the lower rail, though, Sarah remained quietly dignified despite the burning in her bottom.

The loose-fitting pleated shorts rode up and flared over her raised bottom outlining it perfectly and revealing the frill of the illicit pink panties clearly visible. On being reminded of this additional disobedience Rowena clearly decided that further humiliation was deserved and grabbed the waistband of the shorts and dragged them down to poor Sarah’s knees. Somehow the sight of the two plump bum-cheeks tightly clad in a tiny pair of sexy knickers was even more shocking, and of course to some of us very arousing! Her bottom was scarcely protected and our Head Girl imparted the next stroke with slow deliberation – landing with full force across the drum-tight nylon - a heart-stopping WHIP-THWACK - on a different section of Sarah's behind and timed to afford maximum effect.  Throughout, Sarah remained almost silent, very obviously striving not to give Rowena the satisfaction of a response, and this was increasing Rowena's anger.

 Rowena stared at the gossamer-thin pink panties disappearing up between Sarah’s well caned bottom cheeks with a glint of relish in her eye. She whipped the cane down again to let loose another scorcher and grinned as it sent the full moons wiggling and jiggling. . She was disappointed that Sarah wasn’t showing more reaction by now; she would dearly enjoy observing the unfortunate inmate demonstrate her tears and cries of discomfort.  After the fourth stroke, Rowena allowed a longer pause than had hitherto been the trend –possibly to rest her caning arm - and delivered a short lecture.

You must realise, Sarah, that I am not administering this punishment out of personal anger, but because you have behaved in such an outrageous manner that no other way can be found to make you suitably penitent.You acknowledged as much when you asked me give you the caning. We are now hallway through this stage of your thrashing: the next four strokes will encourage you to reconsider your actions and modify your behaviour in the future. I also hope that the fact that I have exposed your knickers to the rest of the prefects will make you obey school uniform rules in future.

Stepping back, she raised the cane high so that it whistled its way on to the target - the flesh just below the line of Sarah's skimpy panties. There was a harsher sound of impact and now it was impossible for Sarah not to react. She groaned deeply as the cane struck home, and then let go of the lower bar for an instant in a reflexive impulse to rub her rear. She knew better than to do so, however, and with her lower lip visibly trembling, she forced herself to remain in position. Rowena paused for several seconds, during which Sarah must have felt all our eyes burning holes in her up-thrust buttocks.

Despite their differences Rowena had considerable respect for Sarah’s ability to take a licking with the minimum of fuss. She waited patiently between strokes, confident that Sarah would eventually settle back into the required position for the thrashing to proceed. Nonetheless, she could tell from the protracted wiggling and jiggling of Sarah’s plump buttocks and the heartfelt pants she could hear her victim emitting that she had thoroughly nailed Sarah Peachez.

Rowena’s arm swooped down again, the cruel house cane slicing through the air in a perfect arc and cutting across the fattened cheeks at the base of Sarah’s backside.  By any standards it was a regal stroke and even Sarah’s sympathetic friends and fans couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer majesty of the manner in which the beating was being delivered.  But the thwacks of the cane were music to the girls who were jealous of her beauty, and every time Sarah’s head reared back with her face contorted in agony the wicked prefects were filled with glee.

Sarah was not having a good time of her session under the punishing cane. Rowena’s careful accuracy meant that the first four strokes had all landed cleanly across the middle of her backside. There had been plenty of wraparounds but no high strikes, which she was grateful for, but with a limited target area under her knicks the Head Girl was now landing the strokes in close proximity to each other on the bare flesh of her underbum. Sarah gritted her teeth. She knew that the next few minutes were going to be even more excruciating but she was determined not to howl or blub.

Number seven landed loudly, parallel to and just below the stroke before. Now Sarah's instincts got the better of her and she brought her arms up to grasp the upper beam, her back arching, gasping, with hot tears spurting from under clenched eyelids
'Get back into position at once, Sarah!'
'No,' Sarah sobbed 'Please, Rowena, that's enough. You've made your point. I'm sorry about what I did but I just can’t take any more...'

She turned to face her chastiser but just the look on Rowena's face compelled her to once more take up her undignified stance. Slowly, she once again upended herself, three lurid red weals now glaringly visible below the flimsy knickers.

Once again, Rowena made her wait, all but inviting us lesser prefects to feast our gaze on Sarah’s humiliation.  My knickers were soaking by now, and I knew the caning was having the same effect on most of the watching girls.

Finally, as it if it would never happen, the cane described its shrill arc, landing with a startling THWACK below its predecessors. There were now four angry parallel lines close together on the soft vanilla-toned flesh. The effect on Sarah was almost comica1 as she sobbed and spluttered and kicked her legs compulsively, Rowena observed silently until Sarah quietened down again and then raised her arm for the final two swipes.

By now Sarah was beyond responding and merely sobbed hysterically as the first arrived predictably even lower just where her bottom cheeks joined her thighs. Rowena's interest was obviously waning now that Sarah had lost control and been reduced to begging in vain. She stared impassively at her victim's heaving backside and the fiery band at the top of Sarah's legs. The marks from the plimsoll slaps barely showed in comparison.

Although the delivery of such low-riders was officially frowned upon and discouraged, it was generally accepted that an occasional very low hit was going to occur in the cut and thrust of a whipping, and Rowena had clinically taken aim and fired off a perfect shot, right on the money.

Sarah, a veteran with several tight canings already under her skirt, knew that the last stroke would be the hottest, ripest, spiciest stripe of ten sizzling strokes.  The cane cut across the tippy tops of Sarah’s thighs with a crack that echoed around the gym. Every watching girl in the hall winced. Sarah howled and writhed, twisting herself about in agony and jerking her tortured bum from side to side on the beam as her hands flew to her burning bottom and thighs.

It was a long, long time before Sarah's crying subsided into pitiful whimpers and the beaten girl eventually managed to ease herself back over the parallel bars and stand upright.
Her face looked as red and puffy as the area Rowena had punished, and she made no attempt to wipe away the tears and snot running doen her cheeks.  She just rubbed and rubbed her anguished posterior. She looked a sorry sight with her gym shorts down by her ankles and her pain as she bent down to pull them up was all-too-obvious.

More of Sarah here.  And here.