Six Of The Best free porn video

Six of the Best! The Headmaster forgets, Emily makes an error, Oswald hasan opportunity.

By Alex

Oswald Turnbull grew up in a small country town, where he acquired only avery limited social sophistication but did well enough in the local schoolto win a scholarship at London University. There he acquired an only slightlyexpanded social sense but did well enough to gain a good degree in mathematics.Despite the fact that he was a friendly and attractive-looking young man, hehad managed only a few polite dates with female students and had had no sexualactivity, beyond a visit to an adult review that had left him shocked, thoughdeeply curious. He now had a qualification for a job, but little idea of howto find one.

Teaching was the obvious answer and he was soon hired, at a third-rate privateschool for girls in a country backwater, by the headmaster, the Reverend Calder.It was like returning to his roots, although in a very different part of thecountry. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he might get to the bottom of whathe really wanted to do. He had no idea of the odd ways in which such a wishmight be granted.

At the school, he did rather well in unspectacular ways. He found himselfby far the youngest master and, in the view of many students though entirelyunknown to himself, the only one of romantic interest. Several, indeed, developedthe characteristic schoolgirl crush on him. His headmaster, the Reverend Calder,observed quite different aspects and was delighted to find a young mathematicsmaster who seemed reasonably intelligent, though clearly reserved and somewhatunworldly. Since all the other teachers were either elderly or barely competent,he was soon treating Oswald effectively as assistant headmaster.

This required little but a few administrative chores and personal discussions,until one day, in the middle of the first term in Oswald' second year, theReverend Calder had to go to London for a conference with his bankers. He lefthis assistant with minimal instructions and no expectation of any unusual event.

On the long train journey to London, the Reverend Calder suddenly rememberedsomething. One of his senior girls, Emily Forster, had been caught smoking.He had summoned her to his office and, being particularly short of time atthat moment, had informed her that she would have to return to his study at4:00 pm two days hence, when she would be punished by six-of-the-best withthe cane. Unfortunately, being rather an old dodderer, he had forgotten abouthis trip to London, for which he was leaving the next day. It was his appointmentwith Emily, now the following day, that he had now remembered.

The problem had a larger context. The Reverend made modestly extensive butpeculiar use of the cane. He got a distinctive thrill from seeing the bottomsof his youthful female charges bared to his gaze and he always required offendingstudents to lower their knickers, pull up their skirts and bend over to touchtheir toes. He also enjoyed the ritual of swishing his cane across their exposedcheeks. But it was essentially a ritual, inflicting minimal discomfort on hispupils, and the strokes were so feeble that they left barely a pink mark. Hecertainly got some gratification from observing such pink lines across theyoung bottoms with he was so enamoured, but he would never have trusted hisailing physical ability even to try inflicting anything more severe. Thus thegirls hardly minded the punishment at all, except for the embarrassment. Eventhis, for many of them, was hardly a serious matter. They regarded the Reverendas such a doddering old fool that exposing themselves to him seemed more ofa joke than anything else, although he was known as "the Dom," forDirty old man. Furthermore, allowing themselves to be treated this way wasa sure route into his favour, and he would grant this in such forms as a secretaddition to their pocket money funds, or even an unspoken understanding thatthey could continue to play truant so long as they expected to return to hisstudy at intervals. The school was, as we have said, in a rural backwater andhad little pretense to academic distinction. Other people, especially his staff,either did not notice or ignored such goings on among the senior girls, whowere mostly over eighteen anyway.

The Reverend's first reaction, on remembering his appointment with Emily,who had visited his study before, was, "Bother! I shall have to deal withthis when I return!" But then he began to turn over in his mind othernotions that were equally characteristic of him. He had an utterly unjustifiedbelief that he was an efficient and reliable administrator. The idea that Emilymight think he had simply forgotten began to seem unacceptable to him. Thenearer the train got to London, the more convoluted his thinking became.

He did, at least, have a notebook with addresses and telephone numbers inhis baggage and so it was, when he got to his hotel, that he telephoned Oswald.Oswald was surprised to hear from his headmaster.

"Is anything wrong, sir?"
"No! Why should there be?"
"It's just that you hadn't led me to expect … "
"I simply did not have a moment to talk with you before I left for the station!"
Oswald knew this was quite untrue, but he listened politely.
"As you know, Oswald, I insist on running a very disciplined institution and I do not eschew the use of corporal punishment when it unfortunately becomes necessary!"

Oswald was indeed surprised by this remark. He was vaguely aware thatthe Reverend would summon girls to his study for a caning at regular intervals.But he was socially so oblivious that he had never thought about it.
"Er, why yes sir! But is this a problem?"
"No! Of course not Oswald! It is simply that I had been obliged to inform Miss Emily Forster… you certainly know her for she must be in your senior class …"
"Yes sir, indeed I know her… she is a charming young lady …"
"Yes, I agree she is a charming young lady. Unfortunately she was tempted to hide behind the chapel and smoke a cigarette. She was discovered and, as a result, I informed her that she would have to report to my study to receive six-of-the-best. I was obliged to make that appointment for her on Wednesday, which is tomorrow."

Oswald had only the faintest glimmer of where this conversation washeading. "Well, I'm sure that was very appropriate, sir … andyou will attend to it when you return?"
"My boy, I shall be here! In London! You know I am a stickler for discipline, and I consider that when arrangements for disciplinary action have been made then they should be kept. I am simply requesting that you perform this duty for me."

Oswald was stunned, barely able to reply. "Er … you … ermean, sir … that you wish me to … er … administer six-of-the-bestto Miss Emily?"
"Yes, of course, my boy! What do you expect? You're the assistant headmaster! What could be more appropriate!"

Oswald still did not know how to respond. "Er … yes, ofcourse, sir! … That would be entirely appropriate … it's just,sir, that … I haven't ever done anything like that before!"
"You mean you haven't given a girl six-of-the-best?! Well, of course you haven't! I've never asked you to! But you will find, in our profession that it is a very useful, even an essential skill … and I might even call it an art! And you have to start somewhere! You are, are you not, handy with the squash racket?"
Oswald replied, as modestly as he could, that yes, he liked to play squash.In fact, it was one of his few abilities apart from maths.
"Well! Then you will doubtless manage very well - you can simply substitute a cane for your racket and a bottom for the ball!"

Oswald strongly suspected that it would be more complicated than that, buthe felt obliged to demur to the Reverend's rather startling request. A suddensurge of panic emboldened him, however, and he found himself saying, "I … er … mean … sir … thatI … er … don't know what you actually say to a girl when youare going to cane her, or even what you actually DO! Or even where you keepthe cane!"

The Reverend paused for a few moments, as he digested the fact that indeed,there was no reason why Oswald should have any idea at all of what transpiredwhen a girl reported to his study for a caning. In some ways he was very gladof this, but he realized that he had opened something of a Pandora's box. Fora moment he was tempted to cancel his entire request, but he entertained, aswe have noted, a largely unjustified view of his own reputation and was anxiousnot to appear mistaken. He contemplated what his practices normally were whena girl reported for punishment, and tried to review them as best he could.

" Ah … hmm … the canes are hanging in the cupboard tothe left of my desk. There are three of them but they are all the same … youmay use any one that you wish. It is, of course, and I'm sure there is notreally any need to explain this, my firm belief that, if you are going to usea cane, then you should use it properly!"

There was a silence at the other end of the line as Oswald tried to imaginewhat "properly" might be. The Reverend felt obliged to continue. "That,ah … er … means that I always administer the cane across a barebottom … otherwise, why use it?! So … er … I ask the younglady who is present for the correction of her behaviour to pull down her knickers … toher knees is sufficient … to fold her skirt up securely around her waist … itmust be securely … and to bend over and touch her toes!" He feltrelieved to have found his way quickly to this point. "When she is inthis position … and, I must say … that they are usually capableof understanding what is required of them very well … then I think yourcommon sense will be entirely adequate to guide you in the rest!"

Oswald, gulping air at the other end of the line, barely managed to uttersounds of assent and finally a promise to do his best.

When the telephone conversation was over, both the Reverend and Oswald wereleft in considerable confusion, Oswald because both the entire conversationand the headmaster's request were completely beyond anything he had expected,and the Reverend because he simply had not had the intelligence to think throughhow the conversation was likely to go. They both went to bed that night withtroubled thoughts. The Reverend had by then decided that contacting Oswaldwas a dreadful mistake and he almost telephoned him again to cancel the request.But then, he thought, he would seem even more foolish. And then his worry simplyincreased. He really should not have mentioned the Record Book. That was quiteunnecessary and Oswald would discover which girls visited his study and alsothat some of them did so rather often. Oh bother! It was too late to changethat! And he had not even told Oswald how hard the caning should be, but hedid not want to let him know that his own use of the cane was … well … sofeeble, since his interests really lay somewhere else … or at leastactually right there, but the cane was only an excuse. Well perhaps, he triedto reason, Oswald seemed such a mild mannered person that he wouldn't do muchmore than tickle Emily's bottom. And then, of course, he remembered that Emily'sbottom was one his favourites and began to regret deeply having ceded it tohis assistant, at least on this occasion.

Oswald, for his part, knew nothing about Emily's, or any other girl's, bottom.He was realizing, indeed, that he knew nothing about any of this.

But so it was, at about 3:30 the next afternoon that Oswald went to the headmaster'sstudy, realizing that preparing for this event might not be so simple. He hadseen Emily in class that day and she was her usual breezy, slightly cheekyself, apparently without any care in the world, certainly in regard to Oswaldhimself.

Once in the headmaster's study, Oswald looked around with a peculiar senseof uncertainty. He had been in this room often before, of course, but had notimagined it as a scene of punishment, even with the Reverend as the protagonist,so oblivious was he normally of such matters. But this was not normal at all,and the room looked curiously different. He tried to imagine Emily standingthere, and then bending over, although this latter image was more or less beyondeven his imagination. Where would she stand? In what direction should she face?He realized that he did not know about even such essential preliminaries.

Seeking a more tangible object, he went to the appropriate cupboard and openedit. There, indeed, three crook-handled canes were hanging. They were all thesame length but one of them was slightly darker, with a higher degree of polish,both at the handle and for about a foot of its business end. He guessed thismust be the one that the Reverend normally used and took it down, rather nervously,from its hook and began to examine it. He had once been caned, long ago asa schoolboy, and remembered it as surprisingly painful. But, even on that occasionhe had not really seen the cane itself and had certainly never seen one since.The implement now in his hands was smooth and thin, and seemed surprisinglylong, about 3 feet he guessed. Thinking of his squash racket, he wondered whyit did not have a more substantial handle. But the crook seemed to fit quitecomfortably against his wrist and his young, strong, hand had no difficultyin gripping it firmly. He waved it up and down, gingerly, and was even moresurprised at its extreme flexibility. Its entire length seemed to whisk upand down for a moment before straightening and becoming motionless again. Hewaved it a bit more vigorously and was even more surprised when it flexed sorapidly and so sharply that it slapped against the leg of his trousers. Hegrasped the business end with his left hand and bent it carefully. It was extraordinarilyresilient and he found he could actually bend it into a "U" withoutit threatening to break. Clearly it was not bamboo, as he had assumed it wouldbe, even though its smooth length had a couple of knots. This was certainlyno squash racket! He wondered what exotic kind of cane it was made from.

Then he suddenly woke up to the fact, almost unbelievable, that the purposeof this remarkable instrument was the beating of young women's bottoms. Despitethe obvious reason for his visiting the Headmaster's study, this realizationstruck him as somehow extraordinary, and it made him look anxiously at a clockon the wall. It was 3:45. He still had 15 minutes but he still had importantmatters to clarify.

It was obvious that simply waving the cane to and fro was not good preparation.It was so bendy that it needed some target. He looked around and saw the roundlypadded back of a couch, so he went over and tried striking it with the cane.He soon discovered the difference between a light blow, which simply made amodest "whap" and a movement that was vigorous enough to producea "swish" through the air and a sharp "thwat" when it landed.He also noticed that this latter made some dust rise from the couch and leftan impression in the material that lasted for a few seconds. To his squashplayer's eye and mind this seemed rather satisfactory and he repeated the experiencea number of times, raising the cane well above his shoulder and swishing itrapidly down to produce the satisfying sound. He started to enjoy in its feel.Realizing, rather vaguely, that he was shortly going to be involved in somephysical activity, he took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door.

He still had not tried to plan the coming event in any detail, mainly becausehe still did not know what any of the details were, and his imagination wasstill completely failing him. The couch remained a couch and he had no wayof translating it into a female bottom. Then he remembered the Reverend's remarkabout the record book and promptly found it on the shelf. It was surprisinglythick, with a hard, black cover. He opened it … and was immediatelyastounded at the large number of entries. They all had the same form, beginningwith a date, continuing with a girl's name, and concluding with the unvaryingwords, "six-of-the-best." The Reverend was certainly a creature ofhabit. He turned to the most recent pages, noticing that there seemed to anentry approximately every two weeks, on the average, and soon finding Emily'sname, first once, about five weeks previously, and then again, earlier thanthat. Well! At least she would know what to expect!

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. He looked up at the clock in a nearpanic. Gracious! It was 4:00! He had quite forgotten how the minutes were passing!He looked around frantically … he certainly wasn't ready, but he didnot dare keep the young woman waiting after the Reverend's remarks concerningsuch matters. "Come in!" he called, very nervously. Nothing happenedand he almost began to hope that she'd gone away. Realizing that he had notcalled very loudly, however, he called "Come in!" again, more loudly.

The door handle turned. The door opened, and Emily's face appeared, cheerfulas when he had last seen in her in class. For a moment she stared at him, surprised.It was obvious that she was taken aback, both by the Reverend Calder's absenceand Mr. Turnbull's presence, but she seemed to recover immediately recoveredand an even more cheerful smile spread across her face. "Oh! Mr. Turnbull!I was expecting to see the Reverend!

"Ah .. .um … the Reverend had to be away, quite unexpectedly … andhe has … ah … umm … asked me to substitute for him."

Emily seemed quite unperturbed, "Oh, that's quite alright! Really!"

Goodness, Oswald wondered to himself, quite uncertain as to what her responsemeant.

'Shall I come in, sir?"

"Yes, yes, of course! Please come in … and shut the door behindyou! Do you know why the Reverend had asked you to come at this hour?"

"Oh yes! Of course, sir! I am to be given six-of-the-best!" Oswaldwas looking at her even as he tried to absorb her reply. He had been awarethat Emily was an attractive young woman, but his observation of women wasnormally somewhat repressed. Internally, he certainly reacted to their physicalattributes sexually, but consciously he tended to avoid any thoughts aboutsuch things. He had previously thought of Emily mainly as a face but now wasforced to notice her figure as well. Of medium height, with a persistentlycheerful face framed by short, black hair, she was well proportioned but trim.Oswald still tried to suppress repress thoughts of what this implied beneathher school blouse and skirt. She had by now closed the door behind her andwas standing in front of the desk, where he was still sitting, increasinglynonplussed. She looked down at the desktop and he suddenly realized that thecane was still lying there, where he had placed it to search for the PunishmentRecord. He was, for some reason, embarrassed by this, but Emily apparentlywas not.

"Oh! I see you've got the cane out already! The Reverend always asksme to fetch it for him!"

Oswald felt even more nonplussed but realized that he had to say something.

"So you have … er … been caned before?" This despitethe fact that he already knew from the record book that she had been.

"Oh yes sir! Three times!"

Goodness! One more even than he had discovered. Emily appeared to think thatthis required some explanation.

"It's not that I'm a really bad person! I just tend to give into temptations …andthis time someone gave me a cigarette so I thought I really ought to try it!Just to be experienced, you know!"

"Ah .. umm … quite so! Well, I'm afraid it has now landed youin this rather unfortunate predicament!"

"Yes sir, I quite understand! That's quite alright!"

This was certainly the most peculiar conversation that Oswald had ever had … evenmore peculiar than the one with the Reverend that had led to this moment. Hehad to do something, but what next? "Ah … er … well, we'dbetter get on with this unpleasant business, hadn't we?"

"Oh, of course sir!" She did not appear to expect anything unpleasantand, indeed, seemed peculiarly content with the prospect of an activity thatwas threatening to send Oswald into a paroxysm of panic. He, of course, wasentirely ignorant of how the Reverend managed his private interests. Emilywas entirely familiar, and even happy with it. Her first visit to the Reverend'sstudy had certainly not been planned, for she had skipped Sunday chapel quiteconfident that she would not be missed. She had been and it had become obviousthat a visit to the Reverend's study was imminent. In a panic at that time,she had started asking other girls who she knew had been caned about what wouldhappen. By the time the event had actually occurred she had been well informedabout what to expect: the request for knickers down and skirt up, the bendingover, a sense that the Reverend was most of all interested in observing herbared bottom and even her private parts. a caning that was only mildly painful,and a subsequent, mysterious boost to her pocket money account. As a youngwoman who was cheerfully prepared to garner benefits of modestly flirtatiousbehaviour, with the encouragement of some fellow students she had then fallenin with a second and specifically suggestive opportunity that had led to anothervisit to the Reverend's study, and then a third. She had found its surprisinglyeasy to position herself in ways that she knew were particularly revealingand had even felt pleased at herself when they had resulted in the headmaster'squite blatant contortions as he took advantage of these provocative offers.It did, in fact, give her sense of power since he was, in a way, quite obviouslyunder her control. The canings were little more than a tickle and the benefitsincreased each time. She was perfectly happy at the prospect of her fourthvisit.

When she had opened the door she had been completely surprised to see Mr.Turnbull sitting there, and had even noticed the odd fact that he was in hisshirt sleeves but, being a smart young woman, adapted with barely a blink tothis unexpected situation. Two factors combined in her reaction: one was that,like many of the girls, she thought Mr. Turnbull was romantically attractiveand that here, quite fortuitously, was an opportunity for a private exchange,even if possibly a very peculiar one; the second was an immediate assumption,or at least a very strong hope, that the well-accepted understandings and distinctiveattractions of a visit to the Reverend were still in place, but now with amuch more intriguing hand holding the cane. She was, optimistically, even morecheerful and even inviting than she would have been with the Reverend.

Oswald, entirely ignorant of all of this, had picked the cane up from hisdesk, still with an odd sense of embarrassment, risen from his chair and walkedaround it towards the space where Emily was standing, frantically thinkingof how to issue his next order. He realized that he didn't even know whereshe should stand.

Emily solved the problem for him. She moved back from the desk but remainedfacing it, now turning her head towards where Oswald was standing to her left. "TheReverend has me stand here … is this alright?"

"Er … yes … of course! Thank you!" Oswald suddenlyrealized the absurdity of these last two words, but Emily only smiled moresweetly. Oswald struggled to continue, "And … uh … willyou prepare yourself please!" His ardent wish that he could rely on herexperience was granted. With a more serious expression, now looking at thefloor, she reached down to the hem of her skirt and then brought her handsup and under it to find the waistband of her knickers. With a slight wriggleof her hips she pulled the crumpling blue knickers down to her knees. Theywere the first schoolgirl knickers that Oswald had allowed himself to lookat for more than a split second. But this moment did not last much longer becauseEmily had now pulled up the hem of her skirt and was beginning to tuck it securelyinto the waist. The folds of her skirt were lifted higher and higher, up herhips, even above her hips, until Oswald was at last confronted with a stretchof bare female skin, from the top of her gray socks, up past the blue knickerscrumpled around her knees, up her thighs to the startlingly sudden expansionof her bottom, up over the swelling and then narrowing curves, up to Emily'ss waist where the material of her skirt had somehow been almost completelytucked away. Oswald could only stare in wonderment, too embarrassed even tolook away.

Even this amazing moment was fleeting, for Emily quite deliberately turnedtowards him and asked, "Is this alright sir? … Shall I bend overnow?"

Oswald was incapable of speech for a few moments and Emily seemed happy towait for his answer. In turning to ask him, she had also turned her hips. Theresult of this was that her front was now quite visible to him, her firm schoolgirlstomach with its tummy button, her thighs and, of course, between thighs andstomach that converging triangle of the female form so celebrated by Venus,and between the thighs themselves that equally celebrated narrowing V with,in this case, Emily's dark, soft pubic hair, covering the most celebrated ofall aspects of female anatomy as this turned in under her body and out of sight.But what was in sight was much more than enough to paralyze Oswald for a momentfor, apart, from the offerings of art, the only previous opportunity he hadto observe any of this was in his single, secretive visit to an adult reviewduring his days in London, where two naked women had stood on stage, stillas statues, during part of the performance. Now it was all right in front ofhim, presented by this charming young lady from his maths class, with an innocentsmile on her cheerful face. That this charming face was not exactly innocentbecame embarrassingly apparent when her eyes flickered downwards for a moment,to where Oswald realized with sudden horror that he was becoming distinctlyaroused. In his horror he did not dare make any move to disguise this factand, when Emily's eyes immediately reverted to his face, her insouciant charmapparently uninterrupted, Oswald desperately tried to convince himself thatshe had not seen.

Goodness! What had she said several moments ago? Oh of course! She had askedhim if she should bend over. "Ah … uh … yes please!" Hestill could not help his absurd politeness. "Yes, will you please adoptthe position that your … ah … experience has … ah … madefamiliar!"

Once again Emily rescued him. She turned back to face the desk, slid herfeet about eighteen inches apart, and bent right over till her fingers weretouching the floor. Unsuspected by Oswald, of course, she had turned her faceaway partly to allow him to manage the bulge in the front of his trousers thatshe had knowingly observed. Oswald was simply grateful for the opportunityand hurriedly made some adjustments to his crotch, desperate to make his reactionsinvisible. He was not entirely successful but Emily, sweetly, pretended notto notice.

But his mind continued in a whirl. Just before she had turned he had hada momentary glimpse of the light coloured carpet between her thighs. This hadsilhouetted her crotch, dark against the light background, and he had registereda fleeting but entirely clear outline of her sex, like a very shallow, roundedW, and a few whisps of hair. Ignorant as he was, he knew that the ultimatesecret of females was hidden within some kind of a groove that ran betweentheir thighs. The knowledge that he had glimpsed this temple of sex, even ifso briefly, span in his mind.

The events, so confusing that they threatened to overwhelm him, continued.He was now confronted with Emily's bottom, bared and raised before him as thewondrously rounded summit of a body that was naked from socks to waist. Hestared in wonder at its perfection, expanding in such surprising and charmingrotundity from the tops of her thighs, its paired spheres swelling up on eitherside of the deep cleft until the cleft shallowed and disappeared into the smallof her back and the smoothly rounded, pale spheres gracefully narrowed andsubsided into her waist, just below where her skirt was tucked in. And Emily,her face now inverted, was still turned towards him, her expression still expectantand her eyes as cheerful as ever. "Is this right, sir?!"

"Yes, it … it … is!" stammered Oswald, managing toomit the thanks this time. His mind was cannoning frantically between two seeminglyirreconcilable realities, which were nevertheless now presented to him as completelysingular. One was the cheerful face of Emily in his class, and the other washer entirely naked bottom, now specifically and incontestably proffered forhis attention. Even though the sight of her pubic area had shocked him, atleast he had seen this aspect of female anatomy at the London review. But theshow, perhaps surprisingly, had not given him any view of the female bottomand he found himself almost more taken aback by what he now saw, so close andso explicitly presented as a focus for his own activity.

He found himself thinking that Emily's bottom was one of the most entrancinglyattractive sights he had ever been granted. The roundness of those two parallelspheres, a perfection of parabolas! And though he had been aroused by the sightof her pubic area, somehow he found himself becoming even more excited by whathe was now staring at. With no sexual experience or education, he knew almostnothing about what was hidden between her thighs, but he certainly knew thatsuch secrets lay within the place to which his eyes were irresistibly drawn,that confluence of curves and creases, where her cleft, the lower edge of herbottom cheeks and the junction of her legs all came together.

Emily understood well how to charm men with her bottom as well as with herface, and she sensed that she was doing very well. She knew what was goingon in Mr. Turnbull's mind and she deliberately tilted her hips up a littlehigher, sticking her bottom out a bit further, for she had seen the foolishsmile that would grow on the Reverend's face when she made presented herselfin this way. Things seemed to be going well, although she realized that theywere still a little precarious.

Oswald gulped several times, knowing he had to find some way out of his growingparalysis. He suddenly remembered the cane, hanging from his right hand. Heforced himself to speak, "Ah, yes! Well let us begin then!" The canehad abruptly brought to his mind the very recent memory of his experimentsin smiting the sofa. His psyche at once inverted itself, like Emily's face.He knew what to do and suddenly felt sure he could do it.

There had been a slight but perceptible change of tone in his last remarkand Emily had noticed it. Her expression of cheerful cooperation flickeredfor a moment as she realized that she really did not know what to expect fromthis master who was now staring at her naked bottom, with a cane in his hand.He was not the Reverend. She felt a flutter of anxiety in her tummy. But surelyit couldn't be too different, even if things seemed not quite the same. Anyway,there was little she could do about it, other than trying to bemuse him byletting him see a hint of her privates. But there was another flutter in hertummy, this time more like fear. The fact that he was in his shirtsleeves suddenlystruck her anew. Somehow this seemed to make him look more threatening. Shesaw him raise the cane with a look curiously like confidence and determination,and then she felt its thin length placed across her cheeks. The sensation wasfamiliar but her bottom seemed so helpless, she suddenly realized, even thoughshe had so cheerfully presented it in its present, vulnerable state. Her eyesstarted darting around, searching for some clue to whatever was going to happen.

Oswald himself had realized that, whatever was to happen, it was betweenhim and Emily's bottom, that it was critically connected to the presence ofthe cane in his hand, and that he should stop looking at Emily's face. He raisedthe cane to lay it across the bottom lifted before him and felt its thin lengthmaking contact with the skin of the paired spheres, the further curve perfectlyrepeating the nearer across the dividing cleft, their skin so pale and smooth,so perfect and so … waiting! The moment sent a sudden shiver throughhim. But it was a shiver that clarified his mind. With a peculiar increaseof confidence he shifted his position and his stance so that his arm was comfortablyextended and the cane was resting evenly across both cheeks of Emily's bottom.He lifted and lowered the cane several times, judging how it would fall whenhe delivered the stroke. It seemed, indeed, just like serving in squash, onlymuch more exciting, and at what a convenient level Emily's bottom was, he thought,gratefully.

It was like serving in a game of squash. Forget what your opponent was thinking,breathe evenly and keep your eye fixed firmly on the ball … which was,in this case, the line where his cane was resting across Emily's bottom. Heremembered clearly the sensation when he had practiced on the couch. The canehad to be lifted high enough and brought down hard enough to produce both theswish and the thwack. He concentrated.

Emily in this instant knew that it was going to be very different from whatshe had expected when she had knocked on the door. Suddenly frightened, shesqueezed her eyes tightly shut and tried to concentrate everything inside herhead, excluding everything outside it. For a few moments everything was completelystill, but Emily was focussing so intensely inside her own head and Oswaldwas focussed so intently on her bottom, that neither of them noticed the silence.For Oswald, the moment of decision came in a flash.

SwishThwack! For a moment Oswald had a sudden, quite physical, sense of success.Whereas in squash, however, he would have known what to expect from his opponentwithout even thinking, now confusion erupted. The momentary sense of achievementwas cut very short by a wild shriek from Emily. Oswald found himself staringat her abrupt transformation, half upright now, hands clutching her bottom,eyes and mouth wide open as she stared, shocked, apparently into empty space.

If Emily was more shocked than ever before in her life, Oswald himself wasalmost as surprised. He had not even thought about how Emily would react tothe cane. Now he suddenly found out and was completely at a loss. What hadhe done? Had he made the stroke much too hard? But he certainly could havemade it even harder still! What on earth could he do with this young womanwho was sobbing and stamping with outrage in front of him. He found himselfcatching with pleasure momentary glimpses of her crotch as her hands remainedglued to her behind.. The thought passed through his mind that, if Emily'searlier revelation of her pubic area to him had seemed oddly deliberate, thenthe moments of similar exposure now were not. They were simply the carelessresult of her desperate attempts to deal with the pain in her bottom.

His mind, rather belatedly, began to work more logically. Pain must go withthe cane as inevitably as wet followed water. Indeed, and the obviousness ofthe point quite took him aback. This was exactly the purpose of what he wasdoing! As if to confirm this dawn of understanding, Emily had finally closedher mouth and refocused her eyes, on him. "Oh sir! That hurt so much!"

"Of course it did, Emily, that is exactly the purpose! This is a punishmentthat should persuade you to reform your behaviour!" Oswald barely recognizedhis own voice in these words, but at least they seemed to be coming out ofhis own mouth. He was, of course, completely ignorant of the strange calculationsand understandings that had governed Emily's actions. "Oh sir! I promise,I really promise that, that I'll behave! Please don't cane me again!"

"Again?" Oswald still felt that he was speaking at the dictationof some higher authority, but he was happily grateful for it. "There willbe no "again" if your behaviour improves. But your punishment onthis occasion is the result of misbehaviour already perpetrated. "Again" iswhat you and I will now do! Bend over, again, so that we may conclude thispunishment and it will then be up to you to ensure that it doesn't happen again!"

Emily was staring at him in pained astonishment, partly, of course, becauseshe did not wish to resume the position that would inevitably be followed byanother stroke of the cane, and partly because this was not the Mr. Turnbullshe had known.

"Bend over and touch you toes again. If you don't do as I ask you, thenI will extend your punishment." This threat surprised both of them, forOswald had no idea of whether he was authorized, or whether he would dare,to exceed the allotted six strokes. But it worked, for Emily, with a gulp ofdismay, dragged her hands away from her still smarting bottom, turned backto face the desk, bent down to touch the floor and, once more presented herbottom in the time-honoured position.

It was the same bottom, the first female bottom, that he had first seen afew minutes before. But somehow it now looked quite different and, certainly,he was looking at it quite differently. Emily's skirt was still securely foldedinto its waist and Oswald had just begun to register, again with some surprise,the reddening mark across her cheeks, when he observed that her knickers hadbeen dislodged by her protests and had now slipped down to her feet. He sawthat this was keeping her from placing her feet apart. When she had first donethis, of her own accord, he had noticed it without really thinking about theresults. Now, increasingly educated in the niceties of a caning, he realizedthat the parting of her legs served to expose what lay between her thighs.Though still not bold enough to make too obvious use of such opportunities,he nevertheless knew he was excited by simply seeing that Emily's most hiddenintimacies could be seen, if he chose to look, and he was inspired to takesome action.

He reached downwards with the cane and pressed its tip into the crotch ofEmily's knickers, pinning them to the floor. "Step out of your knickers(goodness, he probably had never even spoken the word before!) … theyare impeding your position!" Bending forward allowed his gaze to penetratea little more deeply between her thighs, but the fact that her legs were nowcloser together meant that all he could glimpse was a fascinating combinationof flesh pressing together in the parting of a slight concavity between herthighs. His command to Emily resulted in slight variations of these brieflymore intimate glimpses of those other lips (he knew the word labia), betweenher thighs, as she moved in response. He still, however, could not see as muchof her as he was hoping.

Emily, slowly putting her mind back together, knew perfectly well that Mr.Turnbull's intention was to make her expose herself more obviously. Her visitsto the Reverend had familiarized her with this habit. She began to hope thatgratifying Mr. Turnbull's desires might possibly soften the unexpected severityof his assault on her bottom. So she twisted and lifted first one foot andthen the other out her knickers. Improvising with growing hope, she then asked,from her still inverted position, "Shall I pick them up and put them ona chair, sir, so that I don't get tangled with them?" She noticed, hopefully,that he had to drag his eyes away from her proffered rear to answer her.

Oswald, though his mind still dithered between his new-found incisivenessand his normal indecision, thought there was probably some benefit to thissuggestion, "Er, yes … please do that."

Emily promptly reached for her knickers and straightened up again. Standingup even for a few seconds made her feel a little less threatened and the benefitfor Oswald was immediately, if briefly, demonstrated when she turned away fromhim to walk over to the chair. Her bottom, as she took these few steps, seemedeven more beguiling and he was just observing, with considerable curiousity,the rippling of the bright red line of the cane across its two mobile cheekswhen, after placing her knickers on the seat of a chair, she turned and presentedto him a fully frontal view of her crotch.

Once more Oswald's thoughts were stopped in their tracks. Emily was againgratified to notice the downwards flick of his eyes and, desperately improvisingfurther, suggested, "Perhaps you could just have me stand here, with myhands on my head, or a book or something, for a quarter of an hour, or somethinglike that! Like we do in gym! I mean, I do really know what a caning wouldbe like now, and I promise I wouldn't do anything bad again!" She almostwent on to suggest that she could take of all her clothes as part of the punishment,but couldn't think of a way to say that with it sounding altogether too suggestive.

Oswald's thoughts were going along a very similar path for an instant, buthe couldn't think of a way to make it sound remotely appropriate either. Hisnewly found authority suddenly reasserted itself, however, "Procrastinationwill not do you any good at all … you are here to be caned and canedyou will be. You have only received one stroke so far and you still have fiveto go. That is, unless you choose to make such a fuss that I am obliged togive you even more!" There was that threat again … well, at leasthe could make it!

Despair settled in Emily's mind. Whatever had gone wrong had gone so terriblywrong that there seemed to be absolutely no hope of it going right again. Whateverelse she could or couldn't do, however, it was probably better to keep Mr.Turnbull happy, rather than risk making him unhappy. Resigned, she went backto her place in front of the desk and, once again, reached down to presenther still smarting bottom in the required position, taking care to place herfeet apart, even a little further than they had been before.

For a moment Oswald, now seeing more clearly that his cane had left a markthat looked as though it might well become a serious bruise, was again disconcerted,but then he thought, hopeful in his own way, "Well, if that's the resultof my first stroke then that's probably that's what's supposed to happen, andI must be doing something correctly! Now I have to make five more!"

With that, he raised his cane to Emily's bottom again, laying it along themark of his first stroke, summoned up the skills he already possessed, andwith conscious confidence swept the cane up, and down.

Swishthwatt! Emily had known it was going to hurt again, but the burst ofdeep fire across her behind took away both her breath and her mind. "OW!Oh … oh … OW!" Oswald had but a brief moment to feel thehint of another stroke well made before Emily's agonized jerk in reaction hadher, once again, half-upright with hands clasping her bottom. He stared ather for a moment but his reaction was not the same as that of the first occasion.Something was starting to seem very different. Rules were being established,and they were both beginning to know what they were.

Emily opened her eyes and took several deep breaths, hands pressing hardinto her bottom cheeks as the initial shock of the cane's second impact recededinto a throbbing burn. She looked at Mr. Turnbull, who looked back at her.She knew he had changed. He was holding the cane in both hands again, slowlybending it to and fro. The message was completely clear. The caning would continueand Mr. Turnbull now knew exactly what he was doing. For Oswald, his confidencemade him feel almost generous. "Bend over again and stay in position … ifyou do so and behave properly through the remains of your caning, then youwill receive six, and that will be that!" Never would he have guessedthat he could say such things!

Emily would not have thought so either, but now she knew also. She openedher mouth, but remained silent. Tears were beginning to fill her eyes. Shetook another deep breath and, once again, bent over, staring at the floor,overwhelmed by dismay. She knew she was offering her now throbbing bottom foran entirely real beating, a punishment that she could not avoid.

"Good! Stay in that position and, as I have said, your punishment willbe six-of-the-best, and only six." As Oswald was pronouncing these words,now sounding curiously both strained and also rather pompous, he returned hisattention to the bottom that he recognized as the center of this event. Henow saw that his second stroke had landed almost exactly along the first. Thewelt was visibly swelling, and was already turning purple in places where thetwo strokes had exactly coincided. Goodness! This really was a bruise! No wonderEmily had leapt upright on this stroke too! That must have really hurt! Intriguedby the observation of this further effect of his work, however, he found himselfadopting a quite deliberate approach to the task. He decided that he had toavoid the area of this plainly rather severe damage to Emily's bottom for theremainder of her punishment.

He was beginning to feel as though he were already an experienced caner.He tapped the lower curve of Emily's bottom thoughtfully as he decided on whereto aim his next stroke. Emily started slightly and he saw a sudden tighteningof her cheeks in reaction to a fear that the stroke was coming. But Oswaldwas now taking his time, realizing how much control he was now wielding overthis normally charming but rather cheeky pupil. The authority of the cane!He decided that he would deliver each of the four remaining strokes lower thanhis first two. The lower curve of Emily's bottom somehow seemed both appropriateand inviting. And he would take care to aim each stroke just below the precedingone.

As he prepared to administer this intention, the realization that had juststruck him suddenly swelled up to entirely fill his mind, threatening almostto paralyze his actions: this bared bottom was once again stuck out in frontof him, awaiting his administration of the cane, as a consequence of the exerciseof his authority … an authority that he had never knew he had! An authoritythat the cane had miraculously transferred to his person! And now he saw evenmore clearly how sharp and bright was the bright crimson and purple mark curvingaround the two bottom cheeks, slightly askew but more or less across the crown.The result of his own action! He was becoming better at absorbing the successiverevelations of this event, but this still caused him some surprise. His mindhad to put this together, his earlier realization that the purpose of a caningwas indeed to produce significant pain in the bottom of any young woman whohad to suffer such punishment, and the now apparent physical result of thispunishment, in the form of the bruise that recorded the cane's imprint withsuch startling clarity. This was all quite extraordinary! His reactions, however,were changing. His cane was already resting across its target, his target,for his next stroke!

But now he found himself, as though his understanding of the situation couldpenetrate his mind only bit by bit, staring very hard at the cane he was grippingvery firmly, as it lay across Emily's bared and up-thrust bottom, pressingslightly into the pale firmness of its flesh, the smooth swells marred onlyby that crimsoning line, just below which he had laid his cane for the nextstroke. The sight of that mark continued to amaze and possess his mind, partlybecause he himself had caused it, but partly because it seemed to be changingeven as he looked at it. He noticed with surprise that it was now a visiblyraised a ridge, swelling in the flesh of her bottom as it curved across thetwinned spheres, the deep cleft between them bridged not only by that weltbut again by the cane itself as it lay there, an extension of his own arm,its thin, hard, length against the skin, threatening the next stroke. He realizedthat, in aiming just below that welt, he had laid the cane exactly across theslight widening in her bottom cleft that indicated where, he knew, her anuslay, just hidden from view. How extraordinary it was that he should have sounexpectedly found himself, not only confronted by one of his pupils half-naked,but also observing so intimate a part of her in such a privileged manner! Theintensity of sensation in his crotch made him realize that, whatever his brainmight be saying, he was increasingly excited by this, and by the knowledgethat her even more intimate secrets lay only just out of sight, if only hecould find an excuse to bend down and look between her legs. He wondered aboutdropping the cane.

He would, of course, have been very surprised to know how the headmasterhimself managed these events and, as it was, he had to remind himself of whyboth he and Emily were there. Even as he brought his concentration back tothe cane, and his duty to administer it, however, he also suddenly realizedthat he found administering Emily's beating equally exciting, perhaps evenmore than the hope of catching a glimpse of what was to be seen between herthighs. The vivid sensations he still he had of the two strokes of the caneas they had landed made him eager to give her a third. He realized, in yetanother surprised moment, that this third stroke would be initiated, quitesimply, by the action of his own right arm, and that his duty, amazingly enough,seemed to be exactly that. Then he found this powerful desire, both to deliverthe next stroke and to observe the continuing effects on Emily's bottom, mergingwith another, to reach out and press the flesh of her cleft apart so as tocompletely reveal for his own satisfaction the entrance of her anus. This wasso confusing! But while he couldn't do the latter, he could certainly do theformer and, as he prepared to do so he also found himself, rather unexpectedly,wondering whether Emily herself felt the closeness of these two threats, tothe cheeks of her bottom and to that aperture, the opening into its very centre.

Emily's feelings were, in fact, much more confused. She was not in a stateto wonder explicitly whether her earlier provocativeness had been a mistake.Indeed, she still retained the vestige of a hope that she could use her physicalattractions to her advantage, and she certainly was not thinking of tryingto regain her modesty in any way. The very startling shock of that furiouspain in her bottom, once, and then a second time, had simply absorbed all herfeelings about this part of her anatomy. Neither she nor Oswald had any informednotion of how hard a beating should be and, although Oswald could easily havemade it even harder, this was actually very severe for a caning on the barebottom of a schoolgirl, and one who had not been genuinely caned before . Butall he could do was to assume he was proceeding correctly and all she coulddo was to try to survive it. At this moment she was bending over, fingers stretchingdown to touch the carpet, looking back at him in the terrified expectationthat the two most painful moments in her life up to that point were about tobecome three.

A moment of stillness and silence, then swishhTHWATT! The stroke was a littleharder than the first two and it landed where Oswald had aimed it, a littlelower. Emily jumped and gasped loudly but she managed, with great difficulty,to remain bending over. This more resigned acceptance of her third stroke allowedOswald to register more clearly a peculiarly satisfying sensation, of the cane'sswish through the air and its thwack across the bottom. Like the game of squashagain! What had the Reverend said? Something about caning being an art? Atthe time he had barely noticed this remark. Now he found himself rememberingand agreeing with it. The realization that his last stroke had landed almostexactly where he had aimed it convinced him that it was also an art, one thathe knew he was enjoying. He was, of course, still aware that Emily at the businessend of the cane was obviously finding this experience very painful. He certainlywas not a cruel person, but this fleeting moment of guilt was neutralized bythe sudden thought that what he was doing, after all, was simply continuingthe noble tradition of English Education. He had a duty! He would continue!

As the mark of Emily's third stroke grew more darkly crimson, Oswald raisedhis cane again, laid it just below it the third stripe, and pressed it firmlyinto her bottom for a moment. He noticed with interest how the pressure ofhis resting cane slightly indented both her cheeks. That was where his canewould land! Then he released his fourth stroke with exactly the same force.SwishhTHWATT!

Oswald realized that, at least for him, the sensation was rather similarto the moment when he made a perfect return on the squash court, with the satisfyingsound and feeling as his racquet hit the ball exactly in its center and theball ricocheted off the wall exactly where it would cause his opponent themost difficulty. The Headmaster had been quite correct! But the cane actuallyseemed infinitely more satisfying than the squash racquet, in the way thatthe sudden THWATT! seemed to explode in the flesh of Emilys' twinned bottomcheeks, causing her bottom to suddenly lift in protest and, now that she wasmore or less keeping her position, leaving him to contemplate in his own timethe clear record of his aim as the mark grew red across the flesh – withno need to rush across a squash court as he himself became the object an opponent'sreturn!

Though Emily kept her position, more or less, her bottom jumped at the impactof the cane and for a few moments, as she gasped and struggled to absorb thepain, her hips pumped and twisted, up and down and from side to side. Oswald,who had never before acknowledged the ways in which he could be aroused bysuch movements of a female bottom, let alone when it was naked, looked on entranced.His interest increased yet more when he saw that the swivelling of Emily'sbottom from side to side, and the effects of these movements in her cleft,were resulting in very fleeting but nevertheless unmistakable exposure of moreanatomical details. There was no doubt! Now he was granted an unmistakableglimpse of that of that small, embarrassing private aperture that he had beenimagining hidden in its normally invisible state, between the cheeks of Emily'sbottom. He knew what that was! And then there was something much more mysterious,at least to him, a glimpse of another cleft and two parallel folds of flesh,soft and pressing lips, even deeper in that hollow that seemed to open up betweenher thighs. These revelations passed by Oswald' eyes in a mere moment, buttheir effect lingered. He wonder again how he might justify a more probingexamination of the female secrets that Emily had seemed almost ready to offerhim, at least before her caning began. He thought again about dropping hiscane but by now she was looking back at him, from her inverted position, andhe thought it would be shamefully obvious.

There was no obvious way of achieving that desired view at this precise moment,which seemed, irresistibly, to demand his administration of the next stroke.So he raised his cane once more and returned it to Emily's bottom, his aimnow adjusted to just below the crimsoning line of the fifth stroke. SwishhTHWATT!As the stroke cut across the firm flesh and the feel and sound of its impactreverberated through his hand and hearing, and the blur of the cane came torest, he noticed that it had ended up much higher up the bottom than the markit had left, which was already growing red across the lower cheeks, just belowthe darker crimson and blue lines of the preceding welts. Puzzled for a moment,he then realized that the cane's lively resonance of the cane in his hand camefrom its rebounding and bouncing over the bottom on impact. This was much betterthan hitting a squash ball! The experience of caning seemed to grow more fascinatingwith every stroke. He was almost forgetting about poor Emily, at the receivingend, until he noticed her alternately gasping and blowing out air, with wide-openeyes staring at the floor, while little contractions rippled through her bottom.

Oswald contemplated the results with a satisfaction that grew with the markthat his cane had just produced. Five strokes! One more. Almost without thinkinghe found himself announcing this fact, "This will be your last stroke. It willbe one that you will remember!"

The caning had been so painful that Emily was barely even capable of realizingthat this really would be her last stroke. But Oswald now suddenly realizedwhat this meant. This really would be the last stroke! This extraordinary experiencewas about to end! He had turned his gaze once more to Emily's bottom with agrowing feeling of dismay. He did not want the experience to end, but he wasdesperate to administer another stroke because he was now finding it so profoundlyexciting. His cane was already resting across the lower part of Emily's cheeks,below the existing four welts. Even beyond the purple bumps within the firstdouble welt, its edges were acquiring a distinctly purple tinge. The marksleft by his third and fourth strokes were already visibly swollen –andin a manner that Oswald found even more fascinating, for they now had distinctlyraised, parallel edges, dark crimson along a paler groove. They had becomeperfect imprints of the cane. Oswald had never imagined a cane could leavesuch a welt, let alone seen one. The thought that they had originated in theactions of his own arm seemed peculiarly exciting. No wonder that he couldfeel the cane's impact so clearly as it cut into the flesh of Emily's bottom. He wanted to touch the raised welts – were they soft, or hard? Buthe didn't dare find out. His fifth stroke, although its mark was already crimson,had not yet swollen in this way. Below it, still smooth, the lowest part ofher cheeks curved in to the creases marking the conjunction of her bottom withthe backs of her thighs.

Oswald contemplated, yet again, the fact that those secrets of female anatomy,still a mystery to him lay so close, within those folds of flesh. He realizedthat he wanted, in some ways, to thrust himself up between her legs, into thosestill hidden secrets. But he knew he could not. There was no way to explorethat threatening desire, except through his cane. What did remain for him wasits final stroke. The cane's final stroke. His final stroke. Emily's finalstroke. With the cane. It would be somewhere there, on the still untouchedlower edge of Emily's bottom. Exactly where should he aim it? With the sameinterval between it and the fifth stroke that he had left between that oneand the fourth stroke? Or a little lower, more or less in the middle of thestill untouched flesh? Or lower still, closer to the crease?

Oswald decided that this was where he would aim. Somehow the crease's proximityto the still hidden secrets between Emily's thighs made this the most excitingplace to aim. If his fingers could not reach in there, then at least his canecould get as close as possible, biting into her flesh, across her cleft whereit widened at that crucial junction.

He carefully moved the cane to just above the crease, pressing it into theresilient flesh and sawing it gently to and fro. This made the cheeks moveslightly. He tried to make her cheeks shift enough to reveal her anus again,but it didn't work. He had to concentrate on how to deliver the stroke. Itwould have to cut in at rather a low angle to meet her bottom properly. Heshifted his position slightly to make this easier.

How hard would he make the stroke? He knew that he wanted to make it harderthan before, as though it to make a last and more intimate contact with thisbottom that had so unexpectedly taken over his life. But he was still sufficientlyin touch with the peculiarity of his situation to know that this would be inappropriate.He would try to make it a bit harder. Not too much harder, but a bit. He tooka last good look at Emily, bending down to reach to the carpet, her skirt stillfirmly tucked in at the waist, the nakedness of her body from waist to calvesrising to that simply marvelous summit of her bottom, the contours of its rounded,up-thrusting cheeks that had been so smooth a few minutes previously, now markedby four distinct ridges – even the mark of her fifth stroke was now visiblyraised. She had squeezed her eyes tightly shut in the agony of waiting forher next stroke. Oswald took a last, calming breath, settled his concentration,and …

His cane lifted quickly, high above his shoulder, and swept down again. SWISHHTHWATT!The urgency of his desire had overwhelmed him at the last moment, as he raisedhis cane for the last time and brought it sizzling down across Emily's bottomwith almost all the energy he had. The cane buried itself in the flesh at thebase of her bottom with an explosive report and for a split second he saw itsfull roundnesses flattened by a shock wave of the impact. He knew he had madethe stroke much harder than it should have been. It was as though he had triedto bury himself in Emily's bottom. But by then it was too late. Emily reactedwith a wild shriek, almost falling over, hands flying to her bottom and herbody half-straightened as she stared wide-eyed into space. Her shriek turnedinto gasps and moans. Her feet stamped the floor and she closed here eyes again,her mind turning inwards as she tried to absorb this final explosion of painthat had erupted so overwhelmingly in her bottom.

Oswald knew he should be feeling guilty, as he stood there, the now lifelesscane now drooping from his hand. But the sensation of that final impact stillseemed to reverberated in his stomach. And his eyes darted to and fro as hetried to catch what he knew would be his last fleeting glimpses of Emily'spubic area, afforded by her frantic movements.

Finally, as they calmed down, she opened her eyes again and the two of themfound themselves staring at each other. It was a very strange moment.

It was over. Both Emily and Oswald realized, with a peculiarly confusingsense, that they were emerging from another world, a very astonishing worldinto which events had suddenly catapulted them. Now they found themselves returning,equally helplessly, back into the one where they had lived in before. But itcould not be exactly the same, and the return was confusing, to say the least.Emily was still bending forward, naked below the waist as she had willinglyoffered herself before the events had taken such an unexpected turn. But thethrobbing, aching heat in her bottom was as new and strange as it was, inescapablyand painfully, also real. She could think only of how much it had hurt. Atthis moment she had completely forgotten about the bulge in the front of Mr.Turnbull's trousers, though it was still most decidedly there.

For Oswald, everything was rapidly beginning to seem utterly strange, andunbelievable, except that there was no doubt whatsoever about Emily's presencebefore him, and the cane in his hand. He forced himself to speak, somewhatunsteadily now that the Voice of Authority had deserted him. "Er … um … youmay stand up now, and dress yourself properly again!" Emily straightenedup, tears running down a face that was red, but not nearly as red as the bottomthat was now mostly obscured by her clutching hands. She shuffled over to thechair and pulled her knickers back on. He had a final sight of her red-stripedbottom as it disappeared inside the blue undergarment and under the skirt thatshe now untucked and straightened out. She looked exactly as she had before,a school girl, standing there, with out any visible sign of what had just happenedto her bottom, except that her hands were clasped to the back of her skirt.But she certainly didn't feel the same.

For a few moments she remained there, reluctant to turn again and face Mr.Turnbull after everything that had just happened. Oswald recovered enough sensitivityto guess what was going on in her mind. "Now that we are finished, Emily … youmay go … and I hope you have learned the appropriate lesson from this … er … unfortunatematter!"

She turned, mouth pursed in a mix of physical and psychological discomfort.Her face was still red and wet with tears. She swallowed hard, for she didn'treally know what the lesson should be. She brushed her wet cheeks with a hand, "Yessir, thank you sir! I … er …." Then she walked across theroom, face downcast, opened the door, and hurried away, hands still claspingher sore bottom.

On her way back to the private cubicle that was the privilege of a seniorgirl, she saw a few of her friends. It was clear to them that she was upsetbut she passed by their surprised enquiries without replying, leaving themlooking after her in surprise. Shutting her cubicle door behind her with relief,she threw herself on her bed, face down. Her hands, naturally enough, slippedbehind her, under the waist of her knickers, and began to rub her still throbbingbottom. She was astonished to feel how swollen it was, with the ridges so high,so hard and so hot. She lay there, sobbing, for about ten minutes. Soon enough,however, she found herself anxious to see what the results of her punishmentactually looked like. She got up from the bed and turned her back to the mirroron her dresser. Though no one knew better than she how painful the caning hadbeen - indeed, she was the only person who knew - she was still shocked tosee the corrugated state and the colourful appearance of her own bottom. Withher knickers once again pushed down and her skirt hauled up, she twisted backas far as she could to inspect the damage. Five crimson marks! But there hadbeen six strokes! Then she noticed how the highest mark was purpling and swollen.Of course! Now she remembered how the two first strokes had seemed higher upacross her bottom and how the second had hurt so much. He'd hit her twice inthe same place! She could see the ends of the two separate splaying out onthe outside of her right cheek. And that welt just above the creases, it wasalmost as large and as purple as the highest one. That last stroke had beenso awful! He had hit her so hard! She'd almost lost her balance! The brute!She'd thought that the cane was a joke, but now she knew, and saw, that itwas anything but. She realized that the rumours she'd occasionally hear aboutgirls really beaten in other schools were not just rumours after all. How couldanyone do this to her bottom? But Mr. Turnbull had done so! She'd never knownthat anything could be that painful! Let alone something that anyone did toyou on purpose! With dismay, she ran her fingers carefully up and down andfrom side to side over the corrugations, especially the double welt that wasso swollen and the lowest one, where he'd practically cut her in half! Thewelts were still very tender and her whole bottom was still so sore. She'dnever forget that awful sound that had seemed almost to explode inside her!Slowly, as she relived the shocking experience, she began to recover. She founda jar of skin cream and started to rub it very carefully into her damaged behind.

It took a considerable effort on Oswald's part to pull himself together whenhe was left alone in the room, still holding the cane. For a few moment hetried to recapture in his mind's eye the now departed scene. . He swished thecane. But now there was no target. He regretted that he had missed the opportunityto look more carefully between Emily's thighs at the secrets that he had onlyglimpsed, but he couldn't think of any way he could have managed it. Finally,he took the cane back to the cupboard and closed its door, went to sit at thedesk, and carefully wrote in the record book that he had left open "EmilyForster, April 6, 1937, six-of-the-best." It seemed an inadequate account!He closed the book, replaced it on the shelf and stood up. There was nothingin the room at all that gave any hint of what had just happened. But the uncomfortablyconfined pressure in the front of his trousers was still there. He rearrangedhimself and his trousers again, put on his jacket, which he hoped was longenough to hide the embarrassment, and left the headmaster's study. He returnedat once to his lodging, where we will not follow him, except to note that,as he sought relief, his mind was filled with a wildly confusing swirl of image:,Emily bending over, lifting her skirt and pulling down her knickers, a baredbottom, willingly offered to him and then, not so willingly, jerking underthe cane's swish and thwack, crimson marks and anguished howls, glimpses ofintensely private anatomical details, and still that ultimate mystery, whatdid it actually look like, deep between her thighs? For the moment he wouldlive with the knowledge of the cane. .

One might have expected that the outcome of these events would have beenunfortunate, but this was not really so. Emily's bottom indeed remained sorefor a couple of hours and uncomfortable for much longer. She found an excuseto avoid the evening showers and kept events to herself that night. But whenshe got up the next morning and examined her bottom in a mirror, finding thatshe could still feel how her flesh was hard along the still brightly colouredbruises, now surrounded by a mauvish sort of halo, she decided to make themost of it. She told some friends what had happened and they refused to believeher until she showed them the indubitable evidence of her bruised bottom. Theywere, of course, astonished and some of them examined it with an extraordinarydegree of fascination. They were in a study at the time, with Emily lying overthe edge of the table with skirt up and knickers down, feeling simultaneouslyboth proud and embarrassed, with her friends clustering and clucking aroundher bared behind. until they could keep the door closed no longer. When theydemanded to know how much it had hurt, she had tried to cover both sides ofher reputation by replying, "Oh! A lot! … But I didn't really mind!" Shealso allowed these friends to feel the still swollen marks and this effectivelymade even more vivid the reports that began to circulate ever more widely aroundthe school. Everyone was, of course, were amazed and Emily, as she had hoped,soon found herself a celebrity, particularly in the ten days or so during whichthe marks of the cane remained visible. What made this even more gratifyingwas the view of other girls, carefully fostered by Emily herself, that thecaning represented a strange kind of uniquely intimate relationship betweenherself and Mr. Turnbull, one of which the other girls immediately became peculiarlyjealous. "Why!" she had exclaimed to much giggling, "You shouldhave seen the bulge in the front of his trousers!" Emily herself, however,subsequently took great care not to repeat her mistakes and, since she graduatedfrom the school at the end of that year, was not involved in any further suchevents.

Unavoidably, of course, she and Mr.Turnbull had met in maths class the dayafter Emily's caning. Mr. Turnbull had at first tried to avoid meeting Emily'seyes, but soon failed in this attempt. He had discerned a distinctly accusatoryexpression on her face and she had been pleased to see a distinct reddeningof his. For Mr. Turnbull, inevitably, there had been a reversal of the verypeculiar feeling of disjunction at the beginning of Emily's caning, when hehad found it so difficult to reconcile his sudden view of her bottom with theview of her face that was his normal, daily experience. Now he had to try tosuppress, not only his vivid memory of the bottom she was now sitting on, butalso his curiousity about what it now looked like. This curiousity was neversatisfied, for he never saw her naked again. It was, however, definitely inhis interest to re-establish something like their normal relationship of masterand pupil. And Emily considered it in the interests of convincing her friendsthat there existed some particular relationship between them. They thus wereback on friendly, if ambiguous, terms by the end of the class.

The Reverend Calder, when he returned, naturally discovered something ofwhat had happened. At first he was dismayed. But then he realized that thedevelopment could be turned to his advantage. By careful planning he managedto get one girl, and then another, and then another, back into his study forthe kind of "punishment" that had been his speciality. His reputationwas thereby restored and the practice continued. At the same time, he realizedthat he could now treat the occasional serious offences among his pupils quitedifferently. He himself did not dare to try to administer a severe caning,having little confidence in his own physical prowess, but he now asked Oswaldto take on this duty. The satisfaction for the Reverend himself was simple.The offending young woman would be summoned to the study where the Reverendwaited with Oswald. Oswald would administer the caning while the Reverend,as Headmaster, remained to observe it, with great gratification to himself.For Oswald, who now fulfilled his role in such events with confidence, theevent with Emily had been an obvious and very satisfying turning point. Henever caned a girl as hard as his last stroke for her had been but, on a fewoccasions when a young woman reacted to the cane with an exceptionally vigorousprotest, was finally granted a full, if brief, glimpse of what actually laydeep between their thighs. But the memory of his first encounter, with Emily'sbottom, never faded through many subsequent administrations of the cane, and,indeed, he always remained profoundly grateful to her.