How many more? And then what's he going to use on my poor bottom ?

Wetting myself

I really HATE being caned. Well, OK, I've only been caned once: six of the best with a Junior cane, but I don't know how I got  through it. Actually, I do: by yelling like a banshee and dancing like a Dervish from the first stroke onwards. Really undignified. I mean, I'm no stranger to getting mybackside whacked. Heaven knows, I've had my fair share of spankings since I've been at Bexhill School. Everything from a gym shoe, through a hairbrush, to a genuine Lochgelly tawse. Even the wretched cane, but that was a Junior. Now it's going to be twelve! And with  the Dragon! No wonder I think I'm going to wet myself.

Sheila and I knew we were for it the moment that dreadful Head Girl, Agnes, stepped out from behind a row of shelves just as we crept into the Blue Moon, the general store so enticingly just out of bounds across the road from the school. God knows what she was doing there herself, but her eyes lit up when she saw Sheila and me. After that it was a brisk march to the Headmistress's study. Agnes didn't even let go then.

"I'm sure they were going to buy cigarettes, ma'am. I think you should cane them for that, as well as being out of bounds."

Actually, we were going to buy a bottle of cheap for wine for a dorm party that evening, to celebrate Sheila's birthday.

"Thank you, Agnes," the Chief Witch said, rather firmly. "I'll deal with this. You can leave us now."

Agnes glared, then gave me a lizard-like smile and withdrew. She hates me because I pinched her boyfriend. She didn't deserve him anyway, but she has never forgiven me. I knew she'd be listening outside the door for the sounds of the punishment to come.

But first. the Headmistress sat us both down and gave us an interminable lecture about breaking bounds. She'd already taken down the Dragon, and she occasionally swished it to emphasise a point. Talk about torture; why couldn't she just get on with it? Finally she told Sheila that she was first. She was ordered to bend over a chest of drawers (the one where the Witch kept the the tawse). The HM pulled up Sheila's dress, and told her to lower her knickers. Finally, just as she was about to get started, Sheila began vainly pleading for mercy.

For goodness' sake, girl, everyone knows that breaking bounds gets you twelve with the Dragon, and the Head Witch can't even spell 'mercy'. Let's just get it over with.

Oh Crikey, if I have to wait much longer for my turn, there'll be a puddle on the floor and I'll have a wet skirt. I'd just die of embarrassment.

 

Next illustrated story HERE

If you enjoy these short stories, try Tom Simple's full-length Bexhill School books here or his spanking/adventure/romance here

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