I was just about to walk into a shop in the local High Street when a woman a few years older than me stopped me and asked, ‘Mrs James?’
‘Yes,’ I said, looking at her questioningly.
‘Sorry, you probably don’t remember me. I was a teacher at The Orchard.’ That was the school that I, and later, the girls went to. ‘I’m Kirsty Jones. I used to teach English.’
‘Sorry, you’re right. I don’t really remember you, but I imagine we must have met on a parent/teacher evening. What can I do for you?’ I said.
‘Oh, I was just wondering how your two girls are getting on, that’s all. I seem to remember that they were generally good students. What are they doing now?’
I gave her a few brief details of what they were doing and how my daughter, Carol, had come back to live with me a couple of years ago, after her divorce.
Then, she said, ‘Did Carol ever tell you what she did on her final day of school?’
I looked concerned as I wondered what on earth she was on about.
She said, ‘I can see that she didn’t. Do you want to know about it?’.
‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ I said.
‘Let me buy you a coffee at that cafe over there. We can talk in private there.’
Now, I was worried. What was so important that she needed to speak privately?
We sat at a table and ordered coffee and a pastry. The food and drink arrived and, when the waitress had walked away, she pushed her head closer to me and said, ‘Don’t look so worried. It wasn’t that bad, but I thought you would want to know, even all these years later.’
‘OK. Tell me,’ I said.
‘It was the usual end of the year and a lot of the kids thought it would be good to play practical jokes and generally be offensive to the staff. Well, Carol was really offensive that day. I would have said something sooner but I forgot about it as there were so many other things going on, and, when I saw you just now, I was reminded of it. Your daughter shouted at a group of teachers, me included, to go ‘F’ ourselves. She used the full word and waggled two fingers at us; you know what I mean.’
I was embarrassed, to put it mildly, and said, ‘On behalf of my daughter, I apologise, wholeheartedly.’
‘Not to worry. I just thought you’d want to know.’
Then I said, ‘If you could have punished her that day, what would you have done, or, more accurately, what would you like to have done?’
‘Ah, yes. What I could have done and what I would have done are two different things. I would have put her in detention, but what I should have done, as we used to do, was to give her corporal punishment. Oh! You’re not anti-CP, are you?’
‘Not at all,’ I said with a smile playing about my mouth, which didn’t go unnoticed by Kirsty. ‘If you could have punished her, what would you have done?’
‘Four strokes of the cane across her bottom,’ she said.
‘Only four? What if I told you that she can take much more than that?’
It was Kirsty’s turn to look embarrassed. Then I said, ‘Do you want to rectify what happened at school that day?’ I said quite pointedly. She nodded her head slowly as it dawned on her that Carol was still subject to home spankings.
‘Only if it’s no trouble for you, Debbie.’
‘No trouble at all. Carol should be at home right now; so, if we finish this coffee and this delicious pastry, we can go to my home and get things rectified.’
Kirsty said, ‘Let’s take my car, and we can stop off at my house to pick up a cane I still keep there.’
‘No need,’ I said. ‘I have plenty!’ She smiled delightedly.
I gave her the address, and we drove to my home where I could hear Carol in her room. I showed Kirsty into the lounge and invited her to sit down while I made some coffee. I gave Kirsty her coffee and we talked for a while. Then, I called Carol down saying that we had a guest. She came down and you should have seen her face when she noticed Kirsty sitting there.
‘Mrs Jones? W-What are you doing here?’
I told her not to be so rude to our guest. Carol apologised, explaining that she was shocked to see her there. I spoke to Carol, saying how Mrs Jones had met me at the shops and told me about what you did on your last day of school. I’m sure Carol’s heart skipped a beat or two as she remembered what she had done that day.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Jones, for what I said that day. It was only meant in jest.’
‘Jesting or not,’ I said, ‘it’s no excuse for your behaviour. You were downright rude and obscene with it and you know how I abhor those traits! Mrs Jones says she would have caned you that day if she had been allowed to, but as she wasn’t she couldn’t. So I’m going to cane you now. Do you understand, young lady?’
‘Please, mum. Not in front of Mrs Jones.’
‘Why not?’ I said. ‘It was Mrs Jones, among others, you were rude to. Now, STRIP!’
Carol knew better than to hesitate and proceeded to undress down to her knickers, her eyes brimming with tears.
I got up and went to where I keep the canes and selected a Senior Cane. Carol needed to be reminded yet again to be better behaved than she had been. I invited the former teacher to take Carol’s knickers off, which she did with great relish!
‘You know what to do, Carol,’ I said pointing with the cane to the sofa arm.
Then I said to Kirsty, ‘You might want to sit in that chair over there so you can see how I still deal with my errant daughter.’
Carol positioned herself over the arm of the sofa just as she had been taught on so many occasions before. I lined up the cane on her bottom, swung it back, and brought it down with a bit of force. Carol yelped but stayed down. I gave her another thirteen strokes and stopped and told Carol to stay down. I offered the cane to Kirsty for the final six strokes. She accepted with glee.
Now, I thought I caned hard, but this woman brought it cracking down on Carol’s bottom even harder. My daughter was blubbing like a baby by the time Kirsty had finished the caning. I sent Carol to face the wall with her hands on her head while Kirsty and I finished our coffee. When the last drops had been drained from the cups, I sent Carol to her room, but, before she went through the door, she turned and apologised again to Mrs Jones.
‘You have her well-trained, Debbie. Congratulations! It’s a pity there aren’t more mothers like you around anymore.’
‘Unfortunately, our numbers are dwindling rapidly,’ I concurred. ‘I like to keep Carol on her toes.’
‘Yes, you did that alright!’, she smiled broadly. ‘You might like to know that I keep my son and daughter-in-law in line with the cane too. Even though they’re both in their thirties they are not too old to be punished.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ I said. ‘I fully intend to continue punishing Carol all the time she is living with me, and she knows that.’
‘You mentioned your son and his wife. Do you have any grandchildren, yet?’ I asked.
‘No. They can’t have children, unfortunately. How about you?’
‘I don’t have any yet, but one day!’
‘What I haven’t said is that they live with me in my home, so, whoever needs punishing can be dealt with virtually straight away,’ added Kirsty.
‘You sound as though you really enjoy your work, Kirsty.’
‘As much as you do, Debbie,’ she smiled.
I smiled back and said something like, ‘A disciplinarian’s work is never done.’
‘You’re so right. A child, whether young or grown-up, is never perfect and so needs continuous discipline, be that in the form of corporal punishment or otherwise. I’ll tell you what. How would you like to come round to my place on Friday evening to witness my children being punished? I have a feeling you’d like that, even take part?’
‘Only if you’re sure I wouldn’t be imposing on you, I’d love to.’
‘That’s settled then.’ She wrote her address and phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. ‘Friday, 7 pm is when they arrive, so, if you want to come a bit earlier, it will be a surprise for them to meet you. It will add to their humiliation. I think that will affect Peter more than Susan.’
I told her I had never punished a male, nor would I particularly want to.
‘That’s OK, Debbie. You can leave Peter’s punishment to me, but you can help me with Susan’s.’
‘If you don’t have to leave just yet would you mind if I asked a few questions,’ I asked.
‘Sure. fire away.’
‘Firstly, how did you come to punish Susan? How did you persuade her that it’s what she needed?’
‘Oh, that’s easy. I didn’t have to persuade her at all. She asked me to do it! You see, Peter met Susan soon after her parents had been killed in a car crash out on the A21, and it wasn’t long before she found out that he was still punished by me. Apparently, her parents raised her very strictly and often used a cane or some other instrument of correction on her. So, when she and I were introduced by Peter, she asked me outright, there and then, if I would take over her parents’ role in keeping her well-disciplined. I didn’t know her before that moment, so to say I was surprised that she asked would be an understatement. I said something like, “Are you sure? I presume Peter has confided in you that he is still under my care in that department?” Susan said, ‘Yes, Peter has told me how you take care of him and it’s the same thing that I want.”‘
‘More coffee, Kirsty?’ I suggested.
‘No, thanks. I’ve had my limit for one day. Anything more you want to know?’
‘Plenty,’ I said, smiling. ‘What about you? Do you ever feel the need to be punished in any way?’
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘I had all the thrashings I needed when I was young, thank you. I’m quite content to make sure my family is well-disciplined. Do you feel the need for a stripy bottom then, Debbie?’
‘Yes, I do occasionally, but I’m well taken care of in that department!’
Kirsty smiled that knowing smile of hers. ‘If it’s not enough or you want someone different, namely me, doing it then you only have to ask.’
‘I’ll be sure to let you know,’ I grinned.
‘Would I be right in thinking that after all we’ve talked about and done this afternoon has got you aroused, Debbie?’
‘Why do you say that? Is it that obvious?’
‘Yes, dear, it is,’ she said as she placed a hand on my thigh, stroking softly. ‘May I?’
Without so much as a by-your-leave, she pushed her hand under my skirt gently caressing my thigh and working up to my crotch. I just slumped back into the sofa and let her do her thing. I felt her fingers touch my vagina.
She said, ‘My, you are wet, aren’t you?’
All I could do was mumble something, slide forward on the sofa, and part my legs more to let her have better access to me. Her dexterous fingers soon had me coming. As I was coming down from my climax, I returned the favour to her. She didn’t last long either!
Then, before we could get going properly,y she announced that she reluctantly had to go but promised that we could make up for lost time soon.
