Contents
Cover
About the Book
Also by Zoe Templeton
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Copyright
RUTH JAMIESON’S DAY started badly. First, she discovered that she was almost out of breakfast cereal and was forced to make do with half a bowl of crisp cornflakes topped off with the crushed remnants from the bottom of the packet. She poured on the milk and wrinkled her nose in disgust at the resulting sludge. Then the toaster went wrong and produced two brittle charcoal biscuits, one of which broke up in her hand and showered her with marmalade and crumbs. She flapped frantically at the front of her dress with a tea towel, then resigned herself to the inevitable and went back upstairs to change.
She knew that she was late: even before her breakfast she had been cutting things fine, but the enforced change of clothes made things worse. Glancing at her watch, Ruth launched herself down the stairs two at a time. She paused momentarily to check that the back door was locked, then grabbed her briefcase and made a dash for her car. The front door slammed shut behind her. She jumped into her car and twisted the key viciously in the ignition. The car was in gear and rolling forward, with the clutch almost fully engaged, even before the starter had finished whirring.
Her haste was almost her undoing. As she poked the nose of the car out into the main road, there was an angry shout. A paper boy on a cycle veered into the centre of the road in front of her, almost falling beneath the wheels. An oncoming car swerved, narrowly avoiding the nose of Ruth’s car protruding into the road. The paper boy shouted something obscene as he gathered himself up, and Ruth lip-read a similar expletive from the driver of the car.
Steady, girl, or you won’t survive long enough to get to work at all. Ruth often spoke to herself in times of stress. It was a habit she had got into as a little girl. As she grew older, the cruel taunts of her schoolmates, who sometimes overheard her talking to herself, had taught her to remain silent. Even so, at the ripe old age of twenty-eight she sometimes still found herself holding a silent conversation with that ‘other Ruth’ who lived at the back of her mind.
Oh shit, that’s all you needed, she told herself, as the familiar blue and white shape of a patrol car drew to a halt on the opposite side of the road. The officer had obviously seen her ill-judged attempt at entering the traffic stream and was determined to have a word. He got out of his car and strode across the road. An imperiously pointed finger was sufficient to halt the traffic for him.
‘In a bit of a hurry, aren’t we, miss?’ he enquired, his voice heavy with that mixture of sarcasm and officiousness that traffic police the world over are so very good at.
‘I’m ever so sorry, officer. I really didn’t see him. He must have been cycling on the pavement.’ Ruth knew the excuse sounded feeble even as she said it, but she had nothing else to offer.
‘That may be so, miss. I couldn’t say. But that does not mean that you can go charging out of your gateway without looking, now, does it? Even without the cyclist, you weren’t giving the other car much of a chance, were you?’
‘I suppose not, officer. Look, I really am terribly sorry, but there’s no harm done. It was only a momentary lapse and I promise most sincerely it won’t happen again.’ Ruth hated to crawl, but knew that it was the only way she would avoid getting a ticket.
‘“Sorry” doesn’t mend broken lives, you know, miss.’
Oh hell! He’s going to make a production of this, I know he is. What am I going to tell Tony? Ruth’s concern was not for the penalty of the traffic ticket, with its accompanying fine and penalty points, but rather the explanation she would have to give her boyfriend, Tony Chalmers, who just happened to be Inspector Chalmers of the local police force.
‘Don’t I know you, miss?’ The voice was sharp.
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘I do, you know. I’ve seen you with Inspector Chalmers, haven’t I?’
‘I … er … Well, yes, you could have done. He’s a friend of mine.’ Damn, that means he’ll probably tell Tony before I can.
‘I see. Well now, look here, miss. I don’t want to appear too heavy-handed, and as there is no harm done, as you say, I suppose a caution will fit the bill. However, I must tell you that if I ever have cause to remark about your lack of proper attention to your driving again, miss, I would have to take a dim view, if you take my meaning?’
‘Oh yes, officer. I really will be more careful in future, I promise.’
Heavy-handed! The words made the hair on the back of her neck bristle. Ruth shivered as she remembered conversations with Tony on the subject of her driving. She was undeniably a scatterbrain behind the wheel and several times he had threatened to take her across his knee for a good spanking, to improve her concentration.
The first time he had voiced the threat, she had found the idea of being struck by him completely alien and contrary to the liberal fashion of her upbringing. However, when he had repeated the threat, she had begun to fantasise about how it might feel if he ever put his words into action.
The last time the subject had come up was when she had narrowly avoided a parking fine. Then he had reinforced his remonstration with one, not so gentle, slap at her rear. Alone in bed, later that night, she had pondered over the sensations which still lingered in her bottom. The faint residual tingle, from the sharp contact of the palm of his hand on her tightly stretched denims, stirred her imagination. The more she imagined, the more the tingle spread and grew in intensity. Eventually, after an hour of tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep, she had been forced to seek relaxation with the little plastic toy which she kept hidden in a drawer full of clothes in her bedroom. Tony knew about the toy, but did not altogether approve of it. The mild sensation of guilt this knowledge gave her added spice to the pleasure, as she finally slipped into blissful sleep.
‘All right then, miss, I had better just see you safely on your way.’ The officer’s voice jerked Ruth back to reality. The policeman’s head withdrew from the car window and she managed a sickly, simpering smile as he held up the traffic and waved her out of the driveway. How she hated being treated like a brainless child!
Ruth fumed over the incident all the way to work, unwilling to admit that it had been entirely her fault, whatever the voice at the back of her mind might say. She turned the car into the school gateway a full twenty-five minutes later than she should have done. Her temper was not improved by the sight of Edward Fullerton, the deputy head, watching her from his office window.
Generally speaking, she enjoyed her job with Educorp-West very much. When education in England had finally been given the dramatic shake up it so desperately needed, in the early years of the twenty-first century, Educorp-West had been one of several regional companies formed to take on the newly privatised system. Encouraged by the new work ethic which swept the country, the new companies were a great success, swiftly recruiting a new breed of well-paid, highly motivated, fast-track teachers. Ruth was very proud of the fact that, even though still only in her twenties, she was a senior assistant mistress at North Cliff School, one of Educorp-West’s showpiece establishments.
She got on well with her boss, Lillian Greeves. The one black spot in her otherwise satisfying professional life was Edward Fullerton. The school, a co-educational establishment, was run jointly by Miss Greeves and Fullerton. Although technically the senior, Miss Greeves was generally content to give Fullerton full equality in most matters: allowing him to run the boys’ section of the school almost as if it were a separate enterprise. Unfortunately, he did not return the courtesy. He made no secret of his resentment at being nominally only the deputy head. Although powerless to vent his frustrations on Miss Greeves directly, he did the next best thing by trying to make Ruth’s life a misery.
Because she was so late, all the car-park spaces at the front of the school were taken and she had to drive round to the overflow park at the rear of the building. Ruth knew that she was too late to attend morning assembly: her late arrival on the stage with the other staff would be noticed and would cause more comment than if she simply did not appear at all. As she made her way directly to the staff room, via the back door of the building, she did wonder why Fullerton himself was not at assembly.
She was just passing the gymnasium when she heard a noise coming from the girls’ changing rooms, which were on the other side of the corridor. She paused, listening. No one should have been in the rooms at that time: all the staff and pupils should be in assembly. She opened the door and peered inside. All seemed in order. ‘Is anyone there?’
She knew as she said it that this was the classic daft question and was not unduly surprised when she did not receive an answer. However, Ruth was not so naive as to think that this silence confirmed that all was well; she had been involved with high-spirited youngsters long enough to know better than that. She stepped fully into the room and instantly confirmed her suspicions: the smell of tobacco was unmistakable.
There was really only one place anyone could be hiding and that was in the showers. The shower room comprised a ‘wet side’, a row of shower cubicles ranged along one wall, and a ‘dry side’, the main changing area. The two areas were separated by a plastic curtain, which Ruth now slid back, quietly. Sure enough, there was a dark shape visible through the frosted glass of the far cubicle.
‘OK. Come on out. I can see you, so come out here now.’
After a brief pause, the cubicle door was pulled back and a rather shame-faced teenager emerged. Ruth was very surprised to identify the culprit. She had expected it to be one of a small band of regular trouble-makers she knew well. These were mostly sixteen-year-olds from the fourth and fifth forms. Instead, she was confronted by the tall and strikingly good-looking form of Nicky Shaw.
Although Ruth had no favourites in the sense of giving any preferential treatment, Nicky Shaw was a girl whom Ruth enjoyed teaching. Bright as a button, she clearly had a brilliant future in front of her, whether she chose to make use of her academic prowess or simply capitalised on her abundant good looks and charm. At eighteen years of age, she was very mature, visibly more of a woman than a girl.
‘Nicky! I’m surprised to see you here. What are you up to?’
Before the sheepish-looking girl had time to answer, Ruth realised that there was a second shadowy figure still concealed in the shower cubicle clearly hoping not to be noticed.
‘Just a moment.’ This was directed at Nicky. ‘There is still someone in that shower cubicle. Come out at once!’ The tone of her voice carried an authority which she did not altogether feel.
‘Oh please, miss,’ Nicky began. ‘We really weren’t up to anything.’
‘Be quiet, Nicky, I will talk to you in a moment. First of all I want to see just who I am talking to. Come on out, I said. And I mean now!’
Hesitantly, a second figure emerged from the shower. Ruth was even more surprised to find that her second discovery was a boy or, to be accurate, a young man.
‘Robin Henderson! What is the meaning of this?’
Robin Henderson was the same age as his companion and Ruth knew that he had an equally bright future, but she had never been able to look on him in the same light as Nicky. He was over six feet tall and very well-built. He excelled at games, as well as in his schoolwork. Everything came so easily to him, including money from his exceptionally rich parents. Really, that was the trouble: he made no secret of the fact that life was easy for him.
Ruth was not very surprised that Nicky had developed a crush on the boy, despite his manifestly overdeveloped ego. If the truth were known, Robin Henderson was actually quite a dishy young man, she admitted to herself. The age difference between them was not that great and maybe she was just a little jealous of Nicky. Ruth could imagine herself getting quite attracted to the burly young athlete, if only he were a little more modest.
She brought herself up short. Start thinking like that and you will very soon be out of a job, she told herself. The fact that she had been tempted at all increased her anger. Anger with herself for her own stupidity and anger with Edward Fullerton, who would have to become involved now she had found Robin and Nicky. She knew that he would insist on dramatising things and escalating the incident out of all proportion. It was just going to be one of those days!
She looked at the two youngsters, Robin openly defiant and Nicky looking at the floor in embarrassment. ‘I think you both know that I shall have to report this,’ she began. ‘I know that you have both been smoking, the smell in here makes that obvious. The fact that this room is out of bounds to you, Robin, as you well know, makes this a more serious matter, and I am afraid I have no alternative but to report the matter to Miss Greeves and Mr Fullerton.’
‘Do you have to, miss? Please, we were only having a quick smoke, and we are both old enough – our parents don’t mind.’ Despite looking the more embarrassed of the two, Nicky was doing all the talking.
‘I’m afraid I do, Nicky, I have no alternative. Now both of you get on your way. Go to your classes. I have no doubt that you will be sent for later.’ Ruth stepped to one side and the two teenagers headed for the door. She watched them separate and go in opposite directions down the corridor before she picked up her case and resumed her journey to the staff room, deep in thought.
Ruth decided that the best thing to do was to report her discovery to Lillian Greeves as soon as possible, so she went directly from the staff room to the headmistress’s office. She entered the outer office and began to explain her visit to Miss Greeves’s secretary, Coral Browne. Coral was a girl of about Ruth’s own age and the two got on well together.
‘I’m sorry, Ruth,’ Coral said, smiling apologetically, ‘but you can’t see Lillian. She is away today and tomorrow. She has gone on a course somewhere. I don’t know where exactly. She was a bit mysterious about it actually.’
Ruth felt her spirits sink. That meant that she would have no support in dealing with Edward Fullerton. As if on cue, the door opened behind her and the deputy head appeared, looking every bit as slimy as usual.
‘Good morning, Miss Jamieson, Miss Browne,’ he began. Ruth turned to face him. He did not cut a very imposing figure – he was only an inch taller than Ruth’s own five feet eight inches and thin as a rake. He had a sallow complexion and lank brown hair draped in long straight locks across the top of his skull.
‘I could not help noticing your late arrival.’ His voice had a slightly nasal twang which irritated Ruth, no matter what was being said.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Fullerton. I had a bit of a problem with my car this morning.’
It won’t do him any good to know that the problem was me, not the car, she thought to herself.
‘That is as may be.’ He made it sound as if he did not believe her in any case. ‘But I also noted how long it took you to get here from the car park. I cannot help feeling that you are not demonstrating the requisite enthusiasm for your job.’
Ruth’s anger rose; she hated being spied on and his criticism of her in front of Coral Browne was outrageous. ‘If you must know, I was delayed en route.’
‘May I ask why?’
‘I was going to tell you, or at least Miss Greeves, anyway.’ Ruth made it clear by her tone that Fullerton was very much her second choice after Miss Greeves. ‘I found Nicky Shaw and Robin Henderson in the girls’ shower room. They had been smoking.’
It was Fullerton’s turn to register surprise, then annoyance. ‘This is most serious. In the girls’ shower room, you say? May I ask if their clothing was in place? Or were they in disarray?’
‘They were clearly very surprised to be found.’ Ruth considered her next phrase carefully. ‘But that is all.’ Smoking by pupils was viewed as a serious offence at the school and it was one with which she had very little sympathy herself. Certain breaches of rules she was prepared to turn a blind eye to, if no serious harm was being done, but smoking was not one of them. However, she was not vindictive and saw no reason to encourage Fullerton in his obvious train of thought.
‘I see. Well, I will have to pursue my own line of enquiry, of course. It would have to be this morning.’
‘Why? What makes this morning so special?’
‘In Miss Greeves’s absence, I will have to assume the role of head of school until she returns.’
Ruth’s worst fears were confirmed. She knew immediately that this was going to be bad news. Fullerton would do his best to dramatise every minor incident in order to emphasise his new-found power. ‘Well, Mr Fullerton, I must ask you to excuse me now. I have a class to take.’
‘Yes, yes. I will send for you when I need you.’
I hope that’s never, thought Ruth as she gratefully made her escape, although she guessed that she would not be so lucky.
Sure enough, only an hour later she was summoned to Fullerton’s office.
‘I have completed my enquiries,’ he said, puffed up with importance. ‘It was as I thought: they were up to no good.’
‘Really? What were they up to?’ Ruth thought that she could guess the answer, but she was challenging Fullerton to voice an outrageous conclusion so that she could refute it, and thus mitigate the punishment which the two pupils had undoubtedly earnt for their breach of school rules.
‘At first, I determined that both of them had been smoking.’
‘Oh.’ Ruth thought that this was nothing clever, as she herself had told Fullerton as much, but there was obviously more to come. ‘So what did you do then?’
‘I made enquiries, of course.’ He was not to be robbed of his moment of self-importance and was determined to dramatise and drag out the story as much as possible. ‘During the course of those enquiries, the boy, Henderson, was quite disrespectful. I also detected that his apparel was in disarray.’ He looked accusingly at Ruth, obviously indicating that she should have referred to this in her first report of the incident. ‘So I suspect more went on than smoking but, despite my questioning both of them, they would only admit to that.’
‘So what action do you propose to take?’
‘I suppose that, lacking firm proof, we can only remonstrate with them for being too casually familiar with each other in a public place.’ Ruth almost burst out laughing at the pompous phrasing. ‘However, the smoking is another matter, and so is the rudeness. I am going to cane the boy and I insist that the girl is caned also.’
Ruth nodded. She had guessed that it would come to this. Corporal punishment was used infrequently at the school, but smoking, aggravated by rudeness to a member of staff, more than justified the punishment under Educorp-West’s guidelines. It was a condition of admission to the school that all parents signed a waiver which allowed their offspring to be given such punishment if the guidelines were breached. Since the reputation of the school was extremely high, most parents signed willingly enough, trusting the staff to use their powers responsibly.
‘I shall deal with Henderson directly,’ Mr Fullerton continued. ‘Miss Greeves’s absence today is most inconvenient. In the circumstances, as her senior assistant, you will have to deal with Miss Shaw. I must insist that you administer a severe punishment.’
‘Me? But I have never used a cane before, I’m not qualified.’ Ruth was horrified. She knew it was customary that, on the rare occasions a girl was given corporal punishment at the school, the punishment was given by a female member of staff, but it was a duty she had so far not been called on to perform.
‘I shall give the boy six for his impudence and the girl must take at least four. Do you understand? I must insist.’ Fullerton looked at Ruth, challenging her to argue. Ruth said nothing for a moment, thinking over the problem.
Nicky is not a bad girl at heart, but that shouldn’t get her any favouritism, Ruth mused to herself. You know how you detest the smell of tobacco smoke yourself and, besides, if that fool Fullerton wasn’t such a pompous prude, he’d probably have found out that Nicky and Robin had been up to a lot worse than smoking. Apparel in disarray, indeed! I can imagine. Even so, for the good of the school, justice has to be seen to be done, and there is no doubt that the youngsters were caught dead to rights, in breach of the rules, and deserve to be punished.
‘Very well,’ she said to the waiting Fullerton. ‘When do you want to do this?’
‘No time like the present. Do you know what to do?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Ruth steeled herself for what had to be done.
‘I suggest that you use Miss Greeves’s room. At least four strokes, well laid on, remember.’ His voice suddenly rose an octave and Ruth wondered whether this was really such a good idea.
A few minutes later, Ruth found herself behind Lillian Greeves’s desk listening to the sounds coming from the deputy headmaster’s room, which was next door. Coral had been sent to find both the unfortunate teenagers and had delivered Robin Henderson to Edward Fullerton’s office before searching for Nicky Shaw. Ruth, waiting in her absent boss’s office, heard a voice raised in anger, followed by a quieter voice, apparently protesting.
There was a tap at the door and Coral ushered in Nicky Shaw, who was looking very neat and tidy in the uniform of a North Cliff sixth-former: a considerable transformation from her dishevelled state of an hour ago.
‘Come in, Nicky. Thank you, Coral. I will call if I need you.’ Ruth waited until the secretary had closed the door behind her before speaking again. She eyed the girl standing on the other side of the desk. She guessed that Nicky was about five feet seven inches tall, and she was certainly developing into a very pretty young lady. The fairly plain uniform specified by the school rules did not hide her ripening breasts and full hips. Her long golden hair, pinned up demurely at present, shone brightly. Ruth knew that her pupil possessed strikingly beautiful tresses.
‘Well, Nicky, what have you got to say for yourself?’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Jamieson. I wasn’t rude. Neither was Robin, at least not much. Mr Fullerton was really nasty – he said some really awful things about us. He shouldn’t have said them.’ The normally mature and sensible girl seemed ready to brazen things out. Ruth felt firstly embarrassed and then cross. It was one disadvantage of having risen so fast in her profession. She really would find situations like this easier to deal with when she had a few more years on her.
‘That’s all very well, but you had been smoking as well. That’s true, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, miss.’ Nicky looked at the floor.
‘Well, Nicky, I can see you’re upset, but I can’t help that, and you know the rules about smoking, don’t you?’
‘Yes, miss.’
The sound of voices from the next-door office became louder for a moment and then died away, as if an argument had reached its climax and then been settled. Nicky had obviously recognised one of the voices as that of her friend and fellow miscreant.
‘Mr Fullerton is going to punish Robin Henderson very severely for his rudeness and for smoking, do you know that?’
‘I suppose we shouldn’t have been smoking. Robin knew that as well, so I suppose he will expect to get punished.’ Nicky spoke as if she was proud of her boyfriend’s ability to take his punishment bravely.
‘Do you realise he’s going to get caned? Very severely indeed, if I know Mr Fullerton. He’ll be lucky if he gets away with just six of the best.’ As if to confirm her statement, the unmistakable sound of a cane striking taut flesh filtered through the thin partition wall from the adjoining office.
Up to that point, Nicky had not appeared to be terribly worried about her situation. Ruth had the distinct feeling that the sixth-former had not taken the interview very seriously. Now, both Ruth and her pupil held their breath, Ruth counting silently as she did so. She had reached ten when another sharp report rang out. Nicky let out her breath with an audible sigh. Ruth began her count again and had reached fifteen before the third stroke punctuated the suspense. This time the sound of the blow was followed by an agonised yell.
‘Oh no! Oh, that’s cruel – poor Robin.’ For the first time in the conversation, Nicky showed some concern.
Ruth could see the effect of these sounds was disturbing her pretty young charge, who was looking a good deal less self-assured now than she had done a few minutes earlier. Well, so be it. She hadn’t asked the silly girl to get caught. Getting a sore bottom wouldn’t be the end of the world for her and, if Ruth didn’t do a proper job, Fullerton would only find out somehow and make her life even worse with his sneaky little innuendos and sarcasm.
‘Painful it undoubtedly is.’ She looked at Nicky sternly. ‘But cruel? No, I don’t think so. Well merited would be more accurate. We have a policy of equality in this school, Nicky, as you know. Even if I ignore rudeness, which I can’t comment on because I wasn’t there, I can’t ignore the smoking, which you have admitted to me. So I am going to have to cane you, too. You know you deserve it, don’t you?’
‘I suppose so, miss. I don’t know, I’ve never had the cane before.’ Nicky was looking at the floor now, and her voice was low.
Well that makes us even, Ruth thought to herself as she opened the tall cupboard at the side of the room. I’ve never given a caning either. She surveyed the selection of weapons which she found hanging in the cupboard. Which one do I choose? There seem to be so many.
She fingered a thin bamboo rod, but rejected it as too thin. It looks as if it could cut like a knife. I’ve never done anything like this before. If I strike too hard and draw blood, that would be terrible, she thought. Alongside the bamboo was a thicker cane, darker in colour and equipped with a traditional curly handle. That looks as if it would be more suitable. She picked it up. It was surprisingly light and, as she discovered by flexing it in her hands, very flexible and whippy. She supposed that this might have something to do with the frequency of knots in the wood, which seemed to be quite closely spaced – every six inches or so.
‘Very well then, Nicky, let’s get this over with, shall we?’ The teenager stuck out a hand, her palm uppermost, and closed her eyes. She flinched visibly as another yell from next door signified that young Master Henderson had received his fourth stroke. ‘Oh no, Nicky, not like that. Over the desk and lift your skirt up at the back, if you please.’ Ruth swept some papers aside and waved the cane menacingly in the direction of Miss Greeves’s large leather-topped desk.
‘What? You don’t mean …?’ The sentence tailed off, unfinished.
‘Indeed I do.’ This time it was Ruth who flinched as Robin Henderson took his fifth stroke. ‘As I am sure you can hear, your friend Robin is taking his punishment across his seat, and I see no reason why you should be any different. As I said a moment ago, we are supposed to have a policy of equality here.’
Although not expert in such matters, Ruth would have placed a bet that Robin Henderson was taking his punishment not just on his seat but on the bare. The sharp crack as the sixth and final blow landed, accompanied by the loudest yell yet, seemed to confirm her suspicion. The hapless Nicky did as she was told and bent forward across the desk top. Ruth wondered whether she should take the girl’s knickers down but decided that it would be going too far to inflict that indignity on her. After all, she was normally a model pupil.
As if reading Ruth’s mind – or was it just a final show of bravado? – the teenager flipped her skirt up, without waiting to be told, revealing a well-rounded bottom just about decently covered by a skimpy pair of frilly panties.
The feel of the cane in her hands stiffened Ruth’s resolve. She took a firm grip on the girl’s dress with her free hand and pulled it up as far as it would go, so that the hem was almost to Nicky’s shoulders. She took a piece of adhesive tape from the dispenser on the desk and used it to fasten the garment in position. Taking a deep breath, she stood back from the desk.
The girl certainly has good legs, she thought: stretched out straight behind her at the moment, bare from the calves up, slender thighs tapering to the crease where her plump cheeks peeked out from under the frills of her panties. ‘I am going to give you four strokes, Nicky, and I hope you will learn a lesson from them.’ Ruth was still unsure just how severe she should be in administering the punishment. She did not want to do the girl serious harm – just teach her a lasting lesson which might do her some good in the long run.
Ruth studied the posterior of her pupil carefully. It wasn’t the first time she had noticed that Nicky was developing into a beautiful young lady. Even from this angle, that was still an apt description. Wryly, she wondered if she herself would present such a pretty picture, were their roles reversed. Reluctantly, she decided that she might not. She was quite comfortable with her own self-image, but she knew that her own figure, while being perfectly trim, with curves in all the right places, would never compete with the classic blonde beauty of her pupil. If Ruth, not normally an envious person, coveted anything, it was those long blonde tresses falling forward over the girl’s face like a golden waterfall. In contrast, Ruth’s own raven-black hair was cut in a severely practical, almost boyish, style.
‘Don’t move until I tell you that you can rise,’ Ruth warned sternly.
She kept the cane low and drew it back, cocking her wrist as she did so. She remembered seeing her father, many years ago, fishing by the riverside. He had seemingly just flicked his wrist and his rod had curved almost double before whipping his float yards out on to the water. She tried to emulate that long-forgotten action, and the cane flicked across the tightly stretched panties. The sound was nothing like as impressive as that generated in the next-door office, but the blow had clearly stung. Nicky jerked upright, clutching at her bottom as she did so.
‘If you don’t keep still you are going to get extra strokes.’ Ruth pressed her free hand firmly on to the girl’s shoulders, pushing her down again. The wrist flick seemed to be quite successful, so she repeated the action, aiming as best she could at the same spot on the taut knickers. Perhaps she was a little overconfident and, maybe, with the benefit of hindsight, she did put a little bit more force into that second stroke, but the vehemence of the reaction took Ruth by surprise.
‘Ow! Christ, you bitch, that hurt.’ This was not the demure Miss Shaw who normally sat so coyly at the back of her class.
‘I assure you, it was supposed to,’ she responded sharply. ‘Now get back into position and wait for the rest of your punishment.’ For a moment she thought that she was going to be defied. ‘If you don’t bend over at once, I shall call in Mr Fullerton to cane you while I hold you.’ Ruth had no intention of carrying out the threat, and was quite relieved when Nicky reluctantly resumed her position across the desk.
Suddenly, the frustrations and annoyances of her day welled up inside her and an uncharacteristic jealousy overwhelmed her. Bitch am I? Ruth’s alter ego prompted, stoking up the adrenaline. We’ll see about that. ‘I promised you extra if you moved without permission, so the first two won’t count. You still have four more to come.’ Ruth placed the cane down on the desk with a sharp rap, which made Nicky turn her head towards the sound. ‘And, while we are discussing discipline, just what do you think these are?’ Ruth put a finger in the waistband of the panties and twanged the elastic on to the girl’s bare skin. ‘These are not according to school regulations, are they, young lady?’
‘No, miss. But I didn’t think they would matter. I mean, no one sees, do they?’
‘I can see, can’t I? They had better come off, I think.’ Ruth’s passion was getting the better of her professional caution.
‘Oh no, miss!’
Having once made up her mind, Ruth was going to show no mercy. She had the upper hand now and this young lady was going to pay for putting Ruth to so much trouble on a bad day! Nicky’s modesty was going to be the least of her worries. She inserted both hands in the waistband of the sheer garment and swiftly yanked it down over the girl’s bottom and thighs. Nicky let out a squeal of embarrassment and frantically reached behind her to try to retrieve the panties. Ruth grasped the girl’s wrist and slapped her hand back on the desk-top.
She picked up the cane and laid it gently across her pupil’s bottom. Carefully, she concentrated on aiming squarely across both cheeks, noting that the first two strokes had left only faint pink lines edged by a tinge of rosy blush across the otherwise flawless buttocks. She pursed her lips in annoyance that the lines were not exactly parallel, but formed a shallow St Andrew’s Cross, the centre of which had been lost in the deep cleavage between the plump cheeks. Ruth rubbed the cane firmly backward and forward across her chosen target. The firm pressure of the cane left a clear white line across the slightly pink central curve of the girl’s bottom. Even if nature has given perfect padding, she thought, this is one young lady who will not sit comfortably for a while.
The touch of the hard, polished wood on her soft cheeks focused Nicky’s attention and she tensed in anticipation. Ruth did not take her eyes off the target she had marked for an instant, as the girl’s bottom clenched. The cane bent back in an arc then swished down, with the full strength of her arm propelling it. As if in slow motion, the centre portion of the implement made first contact with the apex of Nicky’s left buttock, then the momentum of the swing seemed to bend the cane across the taut muscles of the girl’s bottom and curve it round the right hip as if it was moulding itself to the shape of the plump curves.
To Ruth, still concentrating on her chosen target, it seemed as if the cane was burying itself deep into the flesh. The twin hillocks of the girl’s bottom, which had seemed so firm only a moment ago, distorted under the impact. The sound of the blow, sharp as a pistol shot, startled even Ruth. A white line, instantly changing to an angry red, appeared exactly on the spot she had first marked as a target.
Nicky Shaw yelped. Her body jerked upward and her hands flew back to protect her injured posterior. Ruth allowed her a few seconds of frantic rubbing before she tapped the girls knuckles with the tip of the cane. ‘I am warning you, Nicky, you have already earnt two extra strokes because of your movement and trying to avoid punishment. If you don’t take your hands away right now and keep them out of the way while I give you the next three, I will call in Mr Fullerton, bare bottom or not, and we can start the whole six all over again. Now make up your mind, which is it to be?’
Slowly Nicky took her hands away, revealing an angry red weal. She wiped a tear from her eye before stretching forward to grip the far edge of the desk. ‘Please, miss, don’t send for Mr Fullerton – I’ll try to hold on but, please – oh, please, it hurts so.’
‘It is meant to hurt, Nicky, and I hope you appreciate just why you are getting this punishment. This is going to remind you every time you sit down for the next few days.’ Giving the girl no chance to reply, Ruth applied the cane vigorously across the upturned bottom, adding another weal just a little below the first. Nicky shrieked in pain, but did not let go of the edge of the desk.
Ruth paused for a moment. Nicky was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, obviously trying to alleviate the pain. Her bottom was now very clearly marked, the two strokes standing out as red tramlines on the softer pink blush which the two gentle swipes across her panties had left. Where the knots in the rattan had made contact, the weals took on a slightly bluer colour. Ruth decided that perhaps she had laid it on a little too hard, and mercifully reverted to the wristy flick action with which she had begun the punishment.
The dark-brown rattan flicked in almost horizontally, biting into the lower curves of the gluteal fold, the crease where bottom meets thigh.
‘Eeeaow! You fucking bitch, that hurt!’ Nicky stood bolt upright, both hands clasped to her posterior, and whirled to face Ruth. As she did so, the office door flew open. Edward Fullerton was framed in the doorway.
‘I heard that!’ His voice was high-pitched and had a clear note of triumph. Thinking about it later, Ruth was sure that he had been listening or, worse still, spying through the keyhole. ‘Miss Jamieson, what is the meaning of this disgraceful scene? It appears that your disciplinary control has totally broken down.’
‘It is quite all right, thank you, Mr Fullerton, I can manage. Nicky, get back in position at once. You still have one more to come.’
‘It clearly is not all right and I will not tolerate language like that from a pupil of my school.’ Fullerton was clearly seeking to impress both pupil and member of staff with his authority. ‘Give me that cane, if you please, Miss Jamieson, and you, girl, resume the correct posture for punishment. Miss Jamieson, take her hands and ensure that she remains in position.’
Ruth’s anger boiled. She still felt that Fullerton’s intervention was unnecessary, but she knew that to argue would make an ugly scene even worse. Nicky must also have realised that to resist would only postpone the inevitable, because she quickly bent herself across the desk and stretched out her arms in an attitude of supplication without another sound. Ruth handed the cane to Fullerton and stepped round to the other side of the desk. She sat in Miss Greeves’s chair and reached forward to take Nicky’s hands in hers. They were hot and sweaty, slippery to the touch. Nicky raised her head slightly as Ruth tightened her grip, and their eyes met. The girl’s face was streaked with tears.
Looking over Nicky’s shoulder, Ruth saw Fullerton take up his position and lay the cane across his target area in much the same way as she herself had done a little earlier. Nicky’s eyes widened at the touch and Ruth felt a pang of sympathy for her pupil.
‘One more to come I think you said, Miss Jamieson?’ Ruth nodded. ‘Well, as I can see that you have applied the first part of the punishment fairly severely, I will only add two more for the disgraceful incident I have just witnessed.’
Ruth saw Nicky’s mouth drop open as if she was about to protest, and she wondered if she should raise an objection on her pupil’s behalf. An extra two strokes would make a total of eight: very severe punishment for what had begun as a fairly minor incident. Even if she had wanted to protest, there was no time. Fullerton swung the cane back over his shoulder and brought it swiftly down with a crack which must have been audible in the next town. Nicky screamed, then screamed again as the treatment was swiftly repeated. Her legs kicked up and her long blonde hair flew in all directions. Fullerton waited till the kicking had ceased and Nicky’s head hung down. The rattan swished through the air one final time, the sound of its impact drowned by Nicky’s cry, which subsided to a series of wracking sobs as Ruth released her hands.
‘That is how to administer a meaningful punishment, Miss Jamieson.’ Fullerton’s voice was full of venom. ‘I trust you will remember next time.’ He put the cane on the desk beside the prostrate Nicky and left the room. Ruth got up and went round the desk to lift the sobbing girl back to her feet. The previously pristine buttocks were crisscrossed with six fiery weals, and there was no doubt at all that sitting was not on the agenda for Nicky for some time to come.
RUTH’S DRIVE HOME was much more sedate than her morning journey. Although she had not stayed late, she was emotionally and physically exhausted by the events of the day. As she drove, she thought about the five-barred-gate pattern of red weals that she and Fullerton had imprinted on to Nicky Shaw’s bottom. She knew that the punishment had been too severe for the crime and guiltily accepted that she was partly to blame for the injustice. The thought did not sit comfortably with her.
The image of the sobbing Nicky, holding her savaged posterior, and the look of hate which Robin Henderson had thrown at her, would stay with Ruth for some time. On top of which, Fullerton’s unwanted intervention had made Ruth feel about an inch tall. It was only her own sense of guilt at mishandling things which stopped her from making a formal complaint about the professional discourtesy of the man.