Jane felt her stomach curdle as the approaching footsteps got closer. Her mother paused outside the bedroom door, knocked, and threw it open without waiting for a response. Her expression was furious, but it wasn't that which caused Jane to catch her breath and put her hand to her mouth: it was what her mother was carrying in her right hand.
Jane knew that she was in trouble the minute she got home from that illegal, post-school shopping trip with her friend Melanie. Of course she should have asked permission from her mother to come back late, but Melanie had sort of egged her on by saying that they wouldn't be long and anyway, if they asked their parents, they might be told 'No'.
So they'd headed into town and once inside the beguiling department store they'd lost all track of time. When she'd finally got home, the reception was frosty, to put it mildly. She'd been ordered to go straight up to her room. She'd spent the last few minutes nervously fingering her bottom, sure that her mother had gone to fetch that infernal, long-handled hairbrush of hers.
Do NOT be late home (2)
But mother wasn't holding a hairbrush. Swinging from her right hand was the horrible, heavy tawse with which her father thrashed her and her sister on those rare - very rare - occasions when the offence was too serious to merit just a simple spanking.
Although her mother had never used it on her before, it seemed that history was about to be made. Jane looked up fearfully.
"How dare you go waltzing off shopping without telling me! Melanie's mother and I have been worried to death. We were just about to 'phone the police and the hospital to see whether there'd been an accident. You know the rule: you come straight home after school unless I've given you permission to be late. What have you got to say for yourself?"
Jane tried to look as contrite as she felt, or rather as contrite as that vicious leather strap made her feel.
"Sorry, mum," she muttered.
"Sorry, indeed! A bit too late now. Go on, take your panties off, kneel on the bed, stick your bottom right up."
With her mother in a mood like this, Jane realised that resistance would be futile. She might as well get it over and done with as quickly as possible. She took a deep breath, slid her knickers off and tossed them on to the chair. She prostrated herself the bed, and thrust her hips upwards.
Her mother had put one knee on the bed and was pressing down on the small of Jane's back with her left hand. Jane lifted her bottom as much as she could.
She glanced back just in time to see her mother raise the tawse high above her head.