by James Stephenson

Greg and Kay Miller had what many young couples would think of as a perfect relationship. True, many would have also called it kinky if they knew all the details, but the bottom line was that they had a good house, well paid jobs, and shared a very active sex life. For Greg, his relationship with Kay was a dream come true. After a string of stunning looking women who were happy to have conventional sex but thought his tastes too perverted for a long-term relationship, he had found Kay by pure chance and in her found a kindred spirit.

They were not into heavy bondage and domination scenes, but they both loved light bondage and she was as thrilled as he was to have him put her across his knee and spank her pert little bottom. As the relationship and intimacy deepened, so they introduced more variety. For example, one of their favourite games involved her being left tied up on the bed stark naked for a couple of hours waiting for him to return and for him then to give her a strapping across her bottom and legs before making passionate love.

The two conditions they both required of the relationship was that whatever they did was not just with the consent, but with the desire of both parties, and that neither ever discussed their sex life with any other person. It's an arrangement that suited them both incredibly well.

But then Greg began to go through something of a personal crisis over a couple of weeks. At first it was a silly idea, but it just wouldn't go away and he was afraid to articulate it to Kay lest it damaged the wonderful relationship they had. Kay quickly picked up that something was wrong, but assumed at first that if it mattered he'd tell her. Only when it seemed to be going on for a long time and he still hadn't broached whatever was troubling him did she become really concerned. Typically, it was Kay that raised the issue one evening. At first Greg denied anything was wrong, but then conceded that something was troubling him, and he tried to explain it to her.

She found it hard to comprehend - at first she felt resentful, then scared, then angry, then insulted and cheapened, and finally curious.

"Look, we've played loads of games and I've lost count of how many times you've played the naughty little girl getting her bottom spanked by her daddy, or getting the strap or cane from the angry teacher. And I've loved it every time - and I believe you have too. The trouble is, it's just not right."

Kay furrowed her brow, not understanding where this was going.

"Let's just remember last week when I belted your bare bum for swearing." Kay failed to suppress a little smirk of pleasure. He'd come in home from work late and not in the mood for sex, and she had been feeling as randy as hell. She'd changed into a mini skirt and G- string, made sure his thick leather belt was near to his right hand and then stuck her almost bare bottom in his face and told him not be a boring old farty pants. He'd fallen for it as surely as she'd known he would. In seconds she was squealing as he hauled her across his lap and then she was wriggling and yelping as he delivered a half dozen or so stinging blows with the belt across her bottom and thighs before she wriggled free and began kissing him and reaching to unfasten his trousers. In no time at all they were screwing on the lounge floor. Wonderful!

"Yes, it was great in its way, but not real somehow. Remember as well the week before when we were playing naughty schools and I had you bend over the back of the armchair and gave you the slipper."

"Mmmmm!"

"Yes, okay, I enjoyed it too, but let's just remember the scenario. You were supposed to have been caught cheating in a test and sent to the headmaster for punishment. Well he might have slippered you but he sure wouldn't have let you shriek and throw yourself about like you did, and he most certainly wouldn't have stopped after just four, because you were so hot that you couldn't wait a moment longer to strip off and make love!"

"Well I s'pose not!" she giggled.

"Well, that's what I mean. I've given you some quite hard whackings but it's never really been like if you'd been a naughty schoolgirl getting punished because you've always made a big scene, and you've been able to decide when to stop and we've invariably been making love seconds later. I'd just like try it once, where we try and do it for real and see how we feel about it."

The situation began to dawn on Kay and she wasn't sure that she really liked it. However, having finally taken the decision to explain what had been troubling him, Greg was on a roll and had to finish explaining.

"Let's be clear - I'm not talking about hitting you harder or more times than I have done already in the past. In fact, in some ways it might be less than you've let me give you before. The difference would be psychological. Imagine you were that schoolgirl caught cheating in a test and sent to the headmaster. You'd not be wearing sexy underwear, you'd not be laughing and giggling, you'd not be able to wriggle about, and you'd be desperate to try not to cry because you'd soon have to go back to your class and you wouldn't want your friends to see you with red eyes. You couldn't get any comfort either during or after the punishment - you'd just have to try to cope using your inner strength. You'd have to go in to his office. Stand there smartly to attention in your school uniform while he tore you off a strip, and then allow him to beat you. No protest, no exclamations, no chance of a reprieve. Do you think you could have handled a real punishment like that Kay? I'd love to see how well you could handle it. From my point of view, I'd like to explore how I would feel seeing you hurt like that and not able to throw my arms around you and love you. To see whether I could let myself remain indifferent and unfeeling. What do you think?"

Deep down Kay wasn't sure how she felt - there was a battle going on inside her. She only associated caning and belting and spanking with their love games - she had never been punished like that, nor had she ever been in a situation where such a thing was a possibility since her school had a strict policy against corporal punishment in any form. But she could also begin to see what he was getting at. If she'd been born perhaps fifteen years earlier, her experience of corporal punishment might have been very different, and while it was one thing to let her husband wallop her in fun every so often (and it was fairly often) she had to admit to herself that she wasn't sure that she could have handled real punishment.

They talked for a long time, but really, without either of them saying so, the big decision had been made as soon as she began to discuss the practicalities with him. She needed reassuring that it wasn't going to be a particularly hard beating, although she knew and accepted that she was going to be sore. Most importantly, they had to talk through a lot of small details to make sure that when they came to do it, they would both be so "in role" that it would flow naturally and without the possibility of them reverting to their normal identities.

***

"Is that Rutherford's School Outfitters? Good, I hope you can help. My younger daughter goes to St Mary's School and she's got her school blazer so badly marked I need to replace it. I wonder if you have one available in her size?" They went and checked - they had. "Oh wonderful, how much is it? Right - well my elder daughter works in an office just around the corner from you. I'll ask her to pick it up in her lunchtime if that's okay. Shall I give you the name...."

Kay put the telephone down and tried to smile. Actually she still felt really nervous. Come lunchtime, she dashed around to the shop, gave her name and said that her mother had asked her to collect a parcel. The assistant found it easily enough, already in a carrier bag, but seemed in no hurry to make out the bill and take the money. Kay felt she was blushing and was sure that everyone in the shop would know what she was really buying the school blazer for. Once outside, a wave of relief washed over her - the worst of the preparation was over.

She threw the bag containing the blazer into the boot of her car before setting off for the rest of her shopping. A plain white blouse was dead easy and they had agreed that she could wear one of her own bras so that was taken care of. She needed a short grey skirt - as plain as possible, but not too tight fitting. That was more difficult, but eventually she found a shop selling one that was even shorter than she'd expected to be able to get and which looked so much like a school skirt she again felt self-conscious as she paid for it. She wanted knee high white socks but she couldn't find anything big enough for her so she had to concede defeat there. They'd agreed that, in keeping with modern styles, she could wear opaque black tights if she couldn't get knee high socks, and she already had plenty of those. She had to get a pair of knickers - her own tended to either be a bit lacy or coloured, or else of the "thong" style that no self respecting schoolgirl would dare to wear. She found a pair of white cotton briefs that fitted the bill perfectly. Finally she had to go and buy some plain black shoes that would look sufficiently schoolgirlish, and then her shopping trip was complete. They had agreed she would try everything on that evening and get Greg's approval, even 'though the date they had set was still two weeks away.

She felt very good about the uniform when she had it all on, and expected a positive reaction from Greg. He was a bit more reserved, but gave it the okay, with just one exception. Girls from St. Mary's were expected to wear a school tie until they were in the sixth form, and they had agreed she was to be a fifth former. She was determined that she couldn't go back to the outfitters again. At first he was a bit annoyed with her and told her not be so silly, she'd have to go back, and it was her own fault for not keeping her old school tie in the first place. Then one of them came up with the idea (and afterwards, neither could recall who it was) that she should steal one from an existing pupil. Initially it sounded ludicrous, but as they talked it became more and more feasible. The girls changing room was at one end of the school buildings and the entrance wasn't really overlooked at all - you came out of the changing room and there was a high wooden fence in front of you and you turned left twice to get to the playing fields. However, there was a gate in the fence that was used, for example, when they were being sent off on a run, or to give access to visiting teams disgorging from a coach. The fifth form always had sport on a Tuesday afternoon for so long as anyone could remember. Everything seemed to make the possibility very easy indeed.

Of course, it did have a measure of risk, but the deciding factor was that it also had one significant benefit. Previously they had been unable to decide, when they carried out the role play, what the girl was to be punished for. Stealing from another girl's things in the changing rooms was perfect.

Kay didn't tell Greg the day she was going to do it but she was so nervous that she almost couldn't go through with it. She deliberately dressed very smartly for the crime, having decided that, if she was seen by anyone, she would brazen it out on the lines of being an ex-pupil and just taking a look around for nostalgic reasons. As soon as she reached the gate in the fence, the butterflies really began and it was a battle to force herself to timidly take hold of the handle. She had already seen that the girls were all out playing hockey, and the entrance to the changing room wasn't visible from the field but, as she stepped back on to the school grounds, she could think of millions of reasons why someone might return to the changing rooms. Standing by the open door she strained her ears to hear if someone might be inside but she could hear nothing. Eventually, sick and uneasy, she crept in.

She'd intended to walk in confidently in case someone was there, but her resolution failed her, and probably if there had been someone inside she would have taken flight rather than brazen it out. She was alone.

In seconds she had spotted a tie and, before her nerve deserted her totally, she snatched it and rolled into her coat pocket. As she let herself out through the gate and realised that she had safely accomplished her crime, she felt a wave of euphoria was over her. Now she had everything ready, even the rationale for her forthcoming punishment.

Greg was obviously pleased by her success, and they spent a lot of time that evening planning the fine detail. It was important that they didn't need to co-operate on the planning of the event too close to the time it happened. They had already agreed the date - it was to be a Saturday when they both had plenty of time and they also happened to know that the neighbours were going away so there wouldn't be any worries about what might be heard through the walls.

Greg took the day before off work as well in order to make some final preparations, although he didn't discuss the details with Kay,. Unusually, Greg slept in the spare room on the Friday night. It was all a part of the distancing that was necessary he explained. Kay slept badly, longing to reach out for reassurance but knowing that this was precisely why they weren't sharing a bed.

She woke with a start - it was lighter outside than she expected and turning over she saw that it was already after eight o'clock. The empty space in the bed alongside her brought the memory of what today was all about flooding back.

Now she noticed an envelope by the alarm clock and, not knowing what it was, she picked it up and squinted with bleary, sleepy, eyes. The name on the envelope read 'Kay Johnston' - her maiden name. Waking up fast now, Kay struggled with the envelope before tearing it crudely open. Inside was just a very short, typewritten note informing her that she was required to attend the headmaster's study at 11.30am "to receive the discipline of the school". The butterflies were in full flight again now.

She couldn't hear a sound elsewhere in the house but she knew she wasn't to make contact with him before the allotted meeting time. Over three hours to go, and she wished fervently that it could all be over with, or even just started - the three hours were going to seem like a lifetime. She found out the school clothes and dressed silently and quickly. She had tried the outfit before, but this time seemed different. Already she was becoming Kay Johnstone aged fifteen instead of Kay Markham aged twenty five.

She went to the bathroom and made sure that all traces of makeup had been removed. She also decided that she should tie her hair back. Back to the bedroom and she finished getting dressed and looked in the mirror. She could hardly believe the transformation herself. Her hand strayed to the seat of her skirt and she felt the shape of her own bottom - on other occasions she would have been grinning, and might have flicked the skirt up for a rear view look in the mirror, but such flippancy seemed inappropriate today.

She made her way downstairs to get something to eat although she didn't feel much like it. The house was as silent as a grave and she realised that he must have gone out early. As she was about to enter the kitchen something caught her eye and she turned to see that a small sign had appeared on the door of his study simply saying "Headmaster". A small shiver passed down her spine, and she went into the kitchen. She managed very little to eat and then wondered what to do for the remaining time. She thought of watching the television to take her mind off things but couldn't bring herself to do it. In the end she went back to her bedroom and just sat on the bed thinking.

Time dragged terribly. Ironically, she remembered that the only previous occasion that she could remember time seeming to pass so slowly was the first time when she'd been given a detention at school.

Eventually she heard the front door and she swallowed - he was back. It couldn't be long now. She heard him go into his study and close the door. She looked at the time. Still half an hour - perhaps she could go early? Awful though the prospect of the forthcoming caning was, she just wanted something to happen.

She waited another five minutes and then, with one last look at the badly behaved schoolgirl in the mirror, she hesitantly made her way back downstairs. She knocked on the door - almost ready to say she didn't want to play any more. Silence. She knocked again.

"Yes." he barked from within.

Timidly she opened the door. The whole room had been rearranged, and he was sitting behind his desk, facing the door, with a black academic gown over his suit, writing a letter. He looked up, apparently displeased at being disturbed.

"Ah, Miss. Johnston. I believe I asked you to be here at eleven thirty." He stood up and came across the room to her. "It is not eleven thirty yet and I have other more pressing things to deal with than your behaviour. Kindly wait outside until I'm ready for you." He held the door open and she tottered out of the room, shocked at his uncaring attitude. Once outside she turned back to face him, hoping to appeal to his kinder instincts but was met with a cold stare of contempt.

"So that you can spend some time thinking about why you're here, you can turn and face that wall and put your hands on your head. And stay there until I'm ready to call you in." As soon as she had taken up the position she heard the door close behind him.

Kay could feel tears beginning in the corners of her eyes. How could he treat her like this? Well, she supposed, the answer was simple. It was his job and she was just another naughty schoolgirl. Her arms began to ache, but she couldn't contemplate not continuing to do as she had been instructed - even though it seemed like she had been there simply ages. She risked twisting her arm very slightly to see her watch - as she'd suspected it was already ten minutes after the appointed time. It further underlined how little he cared about her feelings now, and that hurt.

She visibly flinched as the door opened behind her.

"Right Miss. Johnston. Come this way now."

She found herself looking down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. She stood in front of the desk - there was no invitation to take a seat and she assumed she was not meant to do so. She was correct. He sat down in his big leather chair, leaned back, and started at her until curiosity got the better of her and her eyes flickered upwards briefly.

"Well, Miss. Johnston, I have to say that I'm very disappointed that you are here today, although I'm not perhaps especially surprised. In your first couple of years with us there was general agreement from all your teachers that you were a model pupil, and that went both for your diligent work and your behaviour. However, it will probably come as no surprise to you that I have had some discussion with your form teacher, Mr. Edwards, in the last few weeks. He has suggested that not only has your attitude to work much deteriorated, but he also made me aware that your behaviour has been causing growing concern of late. We noted that you have been in detention twice this term so far. Naturally we discussed the fact that a third detention, should that occur, would also lead to you being sent to me for a formal reprimand. We had some discussion about the prospects for bringing you back in line, and we also discussed how likely it was that you would end up with a third detention. I have to say that Mr. Edwards took the view that it was more likely than not, and that you had probably escaped up to now more because staff were generally still a little more inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt than is perhaps justified. We did not, as it happens, discuss your behaviour declining any further, but this latest incident moves your conduct into a wholly different dimension."

Kay wanted to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand because she could feel the tears of shame beginning again, but she kept her hands stiffly at her sides and hoped, forlornly, that he mightn't notice.

"Quite frankly, any girl sent to this office having been caught stealing can expect to be firmly dealt with, irrespective of her general record of behaviour, but in the light of what I've just said about your recent performance, then you leave me with no alternative but to make sure that you are disciplined in a way that will make a very considerable impression on you. I hope that it will help you to reform your ways before you get in even more serious trouble. It is not my policy to use corporal punishment very often, but stealing is one offence where I feel it is generally appropriate to inflict a short sharp shock. Under different circumstances I may have considered giving you the strap but I'm afraid you've left me no alternative now but to cane you."

At this point he paused to let the awful pronouncement sink in. To make things even worse he stood up, opened the large wooden cupboard at his side and Kay saw that there were three crook handled canes hanging on the back of the door. He paused briefly, looking at the three canes, before selecting what Kay could clearly see was the longest and heaviest of them.

He threw it carelessly down on the desktop with a clatter that caused Kay to shudder, and closed the door before sitting down once more.

"It is exceedingly rare that I cane a girl on her bottom, it is something that happens perhaps only once or twice a year. I feel it is important that everyone recognises such punishment as the final resort and as such it has to be something that is very memorable to those who receive such a beating. You should therefore be aware that I will cane you hard and it will hurt you very much. On this occasion I intend giving you six strokes. Please listen carefully while I explain what is going to happen. I shall require you to bend over and grasp your ankles. Throughout your punishment you will continue to hold your ankles and you will keep your legs straight. I expect you to keep as still as possible and I don't want you making any fuss. Once you are in position I shall turn back your skirt so that I have a clear target to aim at. I shall then cane you - I'll pause for between twenty and thirty seconds between each stroke, and as I have said, I expect you to stay in position throughout. After the sixth stroke you will stay in position until I tell you that you may stand. You will then come back here while I complete the necessary paperwork before dismissing you. Is there anything you want to ask?"

There was nothing Kay could say - it was all so cold and clinical and frightening. She managed to shake her head.

"Good, in that case please step to the middle of the room and take up the required position." As she sadly walked to the indicated place she saw him removing his gown and jacket, presumably to get a better swing. It was all as if this was happening to someone else - but then, as she bent over, she remembered being in the school changing room and stealing the tie, and she knew that this really was happening to her, and that she was guilty of the offence for which she was now being punished.

She was quite fit, regularly attending aerobics classes, and occasionally doing some yoga as well, so bending over with straight legs was no problem to her except that it made her feel very silly and very vulnerable. She heard him swish the cane through the air a few times, which started the tears again. She wished now that she hadn't tied her hair back so that it would have hidden her face. She was, in truth, well used to getting a sore bottom at his hand - usually it was just his hand although on occasions they used a whole variety of instruments including slippers, hairbrushes, rulers, straps and she had even felt the cane across her bottom a couple of times. Normally she was buzzing just before it started with the sensual enigma of anticipating the glowing tingle that would soon spread from her buttocks and through her whole being. This would be coupled with the certainty that he would also be becoming highly aroused and lustful so that, when he decided to end the walloping, they would both be ready for the most tumultuous and fantastic sex. She would kick and scream and cry her way through the chastisement until finally they moved on to the cries and grappling of their love-making.

But this was so different.

She felt him pull up the back of her skirt and fold it over on to her back. It was quite short anyway and he'd been able to see her knickers before he did that but the hem had been about in the middle of her bottom and would have interfered too much. She felt cold, unloved, and scared. It was so ignominious. Of course, she was quite used to him seeing her completely naked, let alone seeing her knickers, but this was different - it really was like he was a different person, and she felt genuine shame at her exposure, and felt her face burning with the embarrassment. She couldn't kick and scream or even let him see her cry, although she already had tears in her eyes and he hadn't yet started.

Now he spent a few seconds checking the view as he judged the best position to stand. After a few moments she felt the light pressure of the cane across the centre of her seat as he checked his aim. She felt as if she was trembling and when the contact of the cane was withdrawn she screwed her eyes tight shut and tensed herself for the inevitable. There was a swish, a sharp crack and she felt the cane land dead centre across the seat of her knickers. There was a split second delay before the awful pain struck her and she failed to stifle a small yelp. Normally she would have given a vociferous and vehement response to the terrible hurt, and it took immense willpower not to leap to her feet and clutch her hands to her smarting cheeks.

A long time afterwards she was to think back on this and recall that it somehow felt like being burned with ice rather than being burned with fire, but for the moment she was too desperate to come to terms with the awful stinging to be so philosophical. She realised that the second stroke was going to come soon, but in fact the delay he'd promised between each one seemed like an age. Normally when he gave her a hiding, he kept up a fairly fast pace and she found this new approach disconcerting.

Despite her best intentions, she wasn't ready for it when it came. It seemed even harder than the first, perhaps because he caught her with the very tip of the cane this time and she almost released her grip on her ankles. She was really crying now - never before had he brought her to tears with just two strokes, and she wasn't sure that she could go on.

"Keep still Miss. Johnston."

The cold and brief warning brought her back into role sharply. She didn't have the option about going on and allowing further strokes. This was a punishment caning for her stealing and she had no choice. He had determined her punishment and would carry it out.

She made another attempt to steady herself and be ready for the next stroke. Yet again the wait seemed like an eternity but it wasn't long enough for the awful pain from the last stroke to begin to fade. It was, once again, dead centre and very, very hard.

She was better prepared but it was still truly terrible and the pain seemed to continue to intensify after the first initial searing trauma as a result of the effect of three strokes landing almost on top of each other. She was now having a real battle to keep it together and not just collapse in a bawling heap on the floor.

She just about managed to hang in, although she wasn't at all sure she was going to make it to the end. Once again she wasn't ready for it - somehow the longer than usual interlude between each stroke made it more difficult to prepare herself for the next awful cut.

She heard the whistle and this time the crack of the cane landing on her posterior seemed to almost coincide with a terribly intense stabbing sensation. His decision to aim a little lower had taken Kay to new heights of torment and she screeched in pain and only managed to keep the grip on her ankles by digging her fingers hard into her legs. Her knees buckled and she was openly weeping.

He waited nearly a minute and then spoke in a very quiet but menacing tone.

"Miss. Johnston. If you don't straighten your legs so that I can complete your chastisement, you will very much regret it."

Petrified at the prospect of the punishment being increased, Kay managed the terribly hard act of resuming the proper position. He still waited, knowing how much she just wanted it to be over with but determined to make sure that she fully savoured every last element of her correction.

There was another sharp crack.

"Eyyaaghhh! Oh God...!"

The fifth stroke was lower again and landed below the protection of her knickers. The opaque black tights were tightly stretched and he could just make out the darkening of her skin where that stroke had impacted through the dark gauze. It had hurt like the first three put together, partly on account of the lesser protection but more significantly because of that part of her buttocks being more sensitive to pain. He was a little surprised to see that she managed to keep in position with hardly any movement this time, although her blubbering had increased. In fact, through the red mist of pain, Kay was acutely conscious that there was just one stroke left and although she was in terrible distress, she could see light at the end of the tunnel - she could hang on after all. She hadn't managed to avoid crying of course, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of her letting go of her ankles or jumping up. She remembered that he had told her that she still had to remain bent over after the sixth stroke, until he told her to stand. She had to force herself to remember...

He waited.

She was just about perfectly still, just shaking slightly from her sobbing, but poised perfectly for the final stroke of the cane. Still, he made her wait. And wait. Apart from the angry pain in her bottom, she was also now quite desperate for the loo, and wondered if he might keep her waiting so long that she would wet herself. She would die of shame if that happened. Somehow he seemed to sense that her concentration had wavered on another track, and seized the moment.

The final stroke whipped in low and hard and impacted on the soft place at the very top of her thighs when she wasn't prepared at all for it. Her dignity now totally destroyed she screeched in shock and pain, but somehow she instinctively held her position on shaky legs as the fiery pains ran from her bottom all over her body. She felt sure that he had cut her skin with that last stroke and there was almost an illusion of wetness there. Then she realised with hysterical consternation that she had probably just peed a little in her knickers. After about fifteen seconds the worst of the initial sting had passed and she began to wish he would let her stand up and leave before she really did wet herself properly.

Again, he made her wait a full minute.

"Stand up Miss. Johnston and come back over in front of my desk." She straightened slowly, the skirt flopping back into place as she did so and managed to wipe the back of one hand across her tear streaked face before she turned to face her tormentor. The cane was lying back on the table and he was sitting in his big chair, calm and cool as ever.

"Right Miss. Johnston. I hope that will prove a salutary lesson to you." She was pretty confident it would. "I don't ever want to have to cane you like that again, is that clear?"

"Yes Sir." Bloody stupid question - she didn't ever want to be caned like that again - it hadn't done him much harm so she couldn't see why he should care.

"I hope I've given you something to remember so that next time you're tempted to take something that doesn't belong to you, you weigh the consequences first. Straighten up girl! Hands by your sides!" She jerked to attention, tears still stubbornly trickling down her cheeks. "Right, well, before you return to class, you can just stand there while I record this punishment in the Official School Punishment Register." She just wanted to run away but he slowly took out a large book and a fountain pain and laboriously recorded the details of Kay's name and age, her misdemeanour, and the penalty she had received. When he finished he signed it and carefully blotted the entry.

"Right, Miss. Johnstone, you may leave but return to your class immediately - I don't want to find that you've sloped off to the lavatories to hide for the rest of the morning. Now get out."

She got out, and practically ran to the loo. She relieved herself and spent a few minutes examining the awful marks. They would last several days, especially the two low down which would remain the most uncomfortable as she would sit on them, and her knicker elastic would rub them. She heard him coming up the stairs - the role play wasn't yet over - she wasn't supposed to loiter in the toilets - God, he'd kill her. Quickly she flushed the loo, pulled up her tights and knickers, wincing as she did so. She splashed her face with water in the bathroom to remove the obvious tear streaks and quickly dabbed it dry, before almost running out on to the landing, so that she practically collided with him.

He wasn't looking so angry now, but he still didn't offer to comfort her. Instead, he just spoke quietly and authoritatively in a voice that left no room for her to challenge him.

"Go to the bedroom and get changed into normal things. Just remember that Kay Johnstone would have had to put on a brave face and encounter her classmates within five minutes of being caned. I'm giving you exactly five minutes to get changed and come downstairs."

She fled into the bedroom, not really knowing what he meant, but she wasn't going to argue. She threw off the blazer, blouse and skirt. She pulled on a loose jumper - hesitated about taking off the tights and changing into more familiar knickers and a pair of jeans, but decided to minimise the rubbing of her tender behind, and slipped on a short leather skirt instead. Just then the front doorbell rang.

She heard him open the door and then heard several voices. What was going on? She went to the top of the stairs and listened. Oh God, no! Pat and Peter were near neighbours who they socialised with a lot, and then the next voices she heard were her own sister Jacqui and her husband Tim. It appeared, from the snippets of conversation, that Greg had suggested they all meet up and go out for a pub lunch together. She didn't want to face anyone, but she knew exactly what Greg had done. She had no option but to go down, conscious all the time that her bottom was on fire, and her eyes were red.

It was after three o'clock before they got home and alone again. Both Jacqui and Pat had asked Kay if she was alright, several times in fact, but she'd nodded and said she was fine. They'd suspected something, but obviously had no idea what had really happened. However, Kay couldn't concentrate on the conversation at all as she went through again and again her humiliating punishment, and she could still feel the tingling heat in her bottom as she sat on the uncompromising wooden seat in the pub.

When they did get back home, they both had things to do and quietly went about doing them. There was no conversation, no discussion, no post- mortem on their feelings. In fact, they never did discuss it, because Greg and Kay Miller were a young couple, deeply in love with one another, and totally committed to each other. The life they had together, and the sexual games they played together, had nothing to do with the day young Kelly Johnstone was caned by her headmaster for stealing.

The physical marks lasted longer than usual, but they were never mentioned, although he must have seen them. About six months later, she even used the St. Mary's School uniform again, and they pretended that she had been sent home from school for being cheeky, and he put her over his knee and spanked her bare bottom. But it was just a game. It was never real again.