Oh no, not TWELVE!
The worst part is the waiting.
He gives you a lecture and tells you he's going to spank you or cane you or whatever. Then he gets up and chooses the implement, telling you to prepare yourself. I've been whacked often enought to know the drill: knickers down, skirt up, hands on knees and bottom stuck out as far as possible. It's the next bit that gets to me.
He walks around the room, swishing that wretched cane or smacking the tawse or hairbrush against his hand: it really puts the shivers into you. Why can't he just get on with it and have it over and done with? The answer, of course, is that the the build-up is part of the punishment. He knows the effect it's having.
What's he saying? 'He caned me for poor exam results last term and it doesn't seem to have had any effect? My marks were worse this term.' Well, the damn exams this term were harder, weren't they?
"So, young lady, apparently six wasn't enough to persuade you to work harder, so let's see what twleve will do."
Oh no! Not twelve! Oh my God, I think I might wet myself! Twelve! Oh Lord, here he comes!
Illustration from Wontonart