After another long silence, shifting awkwardly under her gaze, he finally slipped the thumbs of each hand into the elastic waistband of his boxer shorts and began to slowly ease them down. In a manoeuvre that might have appeared feintly comical in different circumstances, he inched the waistband lower, exposing just the first few dark strands of hair at the upper edge of his pubes. The girls I liked regarded it as a matter of honour to accept the discipline of certain nuns whose character we respected, and to tell the truth, especially where to do so would have serious consequences. “Ah, Elisabeth: It was true that additional privileges and freedoms were granted to senior boys, but it was firmly on the basis they should be mature enough to work hard without such close supervision, and the suggestion this was to blame for poor test results had infuriated Sophie during that previous tutorial meeting. January, and the beginning of spring term, now seemed a long time ago, but she remembered their conversation clearly and recalled how she struggled to remain calm. I expect you to stay in position throughout your punishment, until I tell you that you can stand up. We heard the sound of the assembly breaking up and fell silent. As the classes trooped by at the end of the corridor, several pupils glanced towards us as we stood unhappily outside the office. I knew that they would be imagining what would soon be happening to us.

Sensing himself beginning to stiffen in his loose pyjama shorts, he wondered whether he would actually dare to strategically leave an unexplained gap in his Easter revision diary, calling down Miss Sternwood's terrible wrath once more? I stood close to the door, trying to hear what was happening, but I could only make out the sound of voices and not what they were saying. It was easy to guess, though, that Lindsey was getting a good telling off. She could probably have guessed this from the expression on my face, but I suppose that it was on the school records. I shook my head.After everyone had gone past Mrs Seaton came marching up. She looked at both of us as if we were something rotten that the cat had dragged in and, without saying a word, went straight into her office. Lindsey made a face at me and we continued to stand outside in silence. Before I left the infants, my brother had warned me about the headmistress on the junior side of the school. His advice was basically, never cross Mrs Watson – because Mrs Watson did not take prisoners. No child under her care had ever needed to be caned twice, and no pupil had ever lasted beyond two strokes before bursting into tears. I suggest," Miss Sternwood announced in the same controlled tone, "that you remember every last detail of this punishment," the light tap-tap of her cane punctuating the rhythm of her words, "especially if you ever begin to feel your mind wander from your studies... now for number three."

I have a purposely built headmistress study were naughty boys must report to to receive their punishment for their bad behaviour At long last they had arrived at the final afternoon of spring term, Easter weekend only seven days away, falling as it did precisely in the middle of the two week holiday. There had been the usual frantic dash to gather up books, bags and PE kit and now, in the calm aftermath of that storm, this late afternoon appointment was to be the final act in a performance upon which the curtain had risen twelve weeks previously in a January house tutorial meeting. But it was not to be. Towards the end of assembly the senior mistress announced that she would be punishing a fourth year girl for smoking. She read the name out: "Lindsey Rushworth, form 4B, wait for me outside my office." a very gentle demeanor, warm personality, however, don’t fool yourself into thinking that I won’t harm you. Because I most definitely will.Mrs Watson looked down at the boy coldly and nodded approvingly to herself. She then replaced the cane and quite calmly asked the victim’s mother if she was satisfied that the boy had been punished to her satisfaction. She had, and thanked the headmistress. As she left, she glared at both us remaining boys. All went well for the first couple of years – but in the third year, I found myself in hot water. I would have been nine at the time, or possibly just turned 10. Observing her from afar, her beauty and understated power, the calm authority that Miss Sternwood exuded so effortlessly, had frequently given him butterflies in his tummy. But here and now, in such close proximity, the scent of her hair, a delicate hint of her perfume as she moved, and an inexplicable intimacy of seeing her casual handling of the terrible cane, suddenly provoked a discernable twitch below his waistline. He shifted awkwardly, self-consciously adjusting his blazer and opening his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for words.

At thirty-five years of age she could still clearly remember the corridors of Saint Frances and the dark wood paneling outside the headmistress's study. It stretched from the dull parquet floor to around shoulder height, whereupon it gave way to insipid magnolia paint and windows that were set high in the walls, requiring the use of a hooked wooden pole to open and close their spring loaded catches. The headmistress turned to us remaining three boys. “Right boys, do you wish to remain to witness the caning of a coward?” A chose to stay, and because he was staying I nodded to indicate that I would too. In any case, my legs had turned to jelly and I don’t think I could have walked far right then. D left and closed the office door behind him – he couldn’t wait to leave!

So that’s my story. D became very unpopular. After all, A and myself could have been spared a sore bottom if he’d spoken up earlier. D saved his own skin without a care for us. Not long after our visit to the headmistress, A beat up C pretty good outside of school. C never forgave D for ‘grassing’ him up. No-one held a grudge against the victim, to my knowledge. After his caning, C changed a great deal. He became very quiet and kept himself to himself. Mrs Watson, sadly, is no longer with us and her passing was met with much sadness from many of her former pupils. As Mrs Watson announced that he would receive four strokes, I felt my heart pound. However, I felt no sympathy for the boy because my bum was stinging because of him. What happened next had a profound effect on me for the remainder of my school days… North West Strict Headmistress will administer corporal punishment to naughty boys and girls in her traditional study

Later that day my form master told me that he had reported me and that I would have to see the headmaster after assembly on Monday. Not so funny, is it? A young man in his upper sixth year finding himself in this humiliating position." We are attractive and intelligent switches, experienced in giving and receiving most forms of traditional corporal punishment but we are happy to discuss suggestions. We have a good collection of clothing, underwear and equipment including Slippers, Canes, paddles and tawses – but we certainly don’t neglect the hand as well. The study can be very imposing for pupils waiting outside to report to the Headmistress and very intimidating once inside, whilst the sheer size of the classroom creates a realistic atmosphere in itself. Scenarios in the classroom usually revolve around some form of lesson or detention. Miss Hardcastle, being a very intelligent lady, makes the lesson very realistic as well as the inevitable CP. She watched the glass as Thomas, finally free to rub his bottom, struggled to simultaneously turn his boxer shorts the correct way around using only his left hand while his right hand frantically massaged at his burning cheeks. With a wry smile she reflected he would not be rubbing away that sting for quite a while. Even by her own superlative standards she knew those had been six very smartly delivered and powerful strokes.Maintain the position Attwood. It won't be getting any easier," Sophie warned, the whippy cane lightly moving and tapping as she spoke, a familiar dread ritual to ensure her next stroke would land precisely on target. "This will be two." My legs used to turn to water when girls spoke of these proceedings. Nevertheless, when I was in third form I received a pink slip. It was given for missing Benediction, and telling my form mistress an untruth. The headmistress made me admit that I was a liar, and I was punished twice for my error – once by the headmistress and matron, and once by my friends, who did not recognise what I had done as a proper ‘crime’ deserving respect. As regular as a metronome, the next stroke landed. To my horror this elicited a real scream and the sound of poor Lindsey bursting into tears. I was very close to tears myself, but couldn't help listening in horrified fascination. I was beginning to think that Lindsey's punishment was over - although five seemed an odd number of strokes - when I heard again the awful sound of that cane, but even louder than before.