This is a revised version of a letter of mine that was published in Privilege 24

The following events took place only two years ago when I had already graduated from University and had begun to train as articled clerk to a solicitor.

Late one Saturday evening my girlfriend Katy telephoned, obviously in a very distressed state, and asked if she could come round right away to see me. I said that she could, of course, and she immediately rang off. I couldn't imagine what it could be about, as Katy was not the sort of girl to get so worked up by any minor mishaps.

I had met her at University where she had studied English while I had taken Law. However after graduating she had been unable to find a vacancy to train as a chartered accountant immediately and she had to 'sign on'. Then she had been promised a position with a large firm to begin the following March and had moved to London in readiness.

When she arrived I asked her what had happened. I knew that in order to supplement her benefit money she had been acting as a collector for a football pools company. She now confessed that in order to make more money she had in some cases not forwarded the coupons and money but had kept it for herself! Katy had as usual checked all such coupons against the results and had been terrified to realise that an old couple whose money she had kept had just got a line with eight score draws in it. She didn't know what to do. If her actions were reported to the newspapers or the police she thought that the publicity would mean her never being allowed to become a chartered accountant. She had come to me for help because she didn't want her parents to know and also wanted to avoid anyone else knowing whom she couldn't trust.

I was very surprised to hear this confession but realised how bad it could be for Katy. To try to comfort her I said that it was possible that the elderly couple, the Marlings, might never check their coupons and realise that they ought to have won. Katy said she had thought of that but couldn't take the risk that they might claim and be told by the Pools company that there was no record of their coupon. If that happened she was sure that they would tell the police. On the other hand she didn't want to go there and confess and throw herself on their mercy if otherwise they would never know about it.

We talked for a long time and in the end I suggested that the best thing would be if she went round to their house in the morning to see if they were excited and thought they'd won, or not. If they did then she would have to tell them what she'd done; otherwise Katy could take the chance if she thought it was worth it.

She stayed the night with me and I tried to help her to relax a little but she stayed tense. On the Sunday she left to go to the Marlings at about 11 o'clock. I wished her good luck and asked her to come straight back and let me know what had happened.

She didn't come back for a long time and when she did return it was obvious that there was bad news. She told me that she had arrived just as they were re-checking their coupon and they thought she'd come to congratulate them. She had told them everything and begged them to give her a chance. They said that they would have to ask the advice of their son, the headmaster of a local school, as they never took important decisions without consulting him. They phoned him up and he came round straight away.

As soon as he knew what had happened he said that the police and the newspapers would have to be told. Katy begged and pleaded with him and told him how sorry she was, but it was no use. She tried to convince him that his parents wouldn't get any benefit from telling their story and would just be harassed by the publicity.

But he pointed out that by her actions she had deprived an elderly couple of probably several thousand pounds and that when the story was published there would be a great wave of public sympathy for his parents and many readers might well donate money to them to make up. Katy still tried to persuade him and told him that if it became public she could never hope to gain a professional qualification. He simply said that the name for what she had done was 'theft' and she should pay for it.

Katy told me that at this point she broke down and started to cry. Mr Marling looked at her for a while and then went over to his parents and started whispering to them. Katy suddenly felt a ray of hope. Then he came back and said that he believed that Katy really was sorry and he was prepared to give her a chance and not report her if she would agree to accept some punishment from him. As Katy told me this she suddenly stopped speaking and blushed. Somehow I guessed what had happened - she'd said he was a local headmaster - he must have suggested that he spank her! I asked Katy and she said no, worse than that. He had told her that the only option he would give her was a sound caning!

He had let Katy go, saying that if she agreed she was to go back to his parents' house at half past six that evening for the caning; otherwise he would inform the press and the authorities.

I asked her what she was going to do and she said that she thought she was going to have to let him cane her, but she was terrified of how much it would hurt. She asked me if I had ever had the cane at school and I had to tell her that I hadn't but that I knew from other boys in my class that it hurt all right. I asked Katy if Mr Marling had said how many strokes he would give her. "Yes," she said with a kind of gulp, "sixteen!"

I was astonished. I blurted out, "You can't take that many on your hands!" Katy replied, "No, he said he would give me four on the hands and the rest on my . . . behind."

Once again she blushed deeply and then went on, "And it's even worse. He says that the caning has to be in front of his parents and that I could only have one layer of clothing as protection when . . . I bend over and he said that by that he meant ordinary thin panties, and that if I tried to take advantage by wearing thick panties or anything, he'd take them down and cane me on the bare. Oh, David, what shall I do?"

I said that it was up to her, but if she really thought that her whole future was at stake she should accept the caning. I said I knew it would hurt her, but she would get over the pain of the caning and would then have all of her life ahead of her. But I told her to be careful because I knew the cane really hurt a lot and this Mr Marling didn't seem inclined to show her any favours.

I took Katy out for a drink to try to steady her and help make her mind up. In the pub she told me that the worst corporal punishment she'd ever had in her life was the ruler on the hand at school. She asked me if I knew whether the cane hurt more on the hands or on the bottom. I said that boys at my school who'd had both said it hurt more on the hands but that they'd been allowed the protection of trousers and pants. She drank four gin-and-tonics but showed no sign of getting drunk. We stayed in the pub until two o'clock and then went back to my flat.

I asked Katy if she had made her mind up. She said that she had no choice but to go through with it. She asked if I would mind please going with her as she didn't know what state she'd be in to walk back afterwards and that, as her humiliation had to be witnessed in any case, she would like me to be there as a witness on her side in case Mr Marling went too far.

I said that of course I'd do anything she wanted. I suggested that I draft a legal document by which Mr Marling would promise not to report her and she agreed that this would be a good idea. I drafted something and showed it to Katy. She was surprised that I hadn't referred to her caning at all in it. This was because I was of the opinion that an agreement based on this consideration would be void as contra bona mores and I had therefore produced a covenant to be executed by Mr Marling as this is valid whatever the consideration.

Then I made a few more practical suggestions as poor Katy was too overwhelmed to think straight. I knew she was wearing both panties and pantyhose under her skirt and suggested that we went back to her flat so she could change. She agreed.

When we got to her flat we went to her bedroom where she tried on different kinds of panties and bent over in each to see which offered best protection. By this time I had a very hard erection and was on the brink of coming as I imagined what was soon going to happen to the tender bottom that kept bending down in front of me encased in various panties. I suggested that a particular pair - white with pink flowers - would be the best. Katy stood up and snapped at me, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I denied this, but said that of course the sight of her bending down in panties excited me. She said angrily, "Well, simmer down. I'm not in the mood at all."

She kept the white-and-pink panties on, though, and changed into a loose blue cotton skirt that could easily be lifted up to disclose the target area. Then I suggested that as some of the strokes were to be given on her hands it would be a good idea to remove her rings and her watch and to trim her fingernails in case of accidents. Katy was rather proud of her fingernails, but agreed to cut them when I pointed out the danger that a nail could be torn out if a stroke landed across her fingertips.

By this time it was past six o'clock and we got into my car and drove to the Marlings. Before we got out I hugged Katy and kissed her and told her to be brave. When we went in Katy introduced me as her fiancĒ, whom she had asked as a witness. She told them that I had a degree in Law and that I had drafted an agreement. Mr Marling looked at it, thought a bit, and said that he would sign it - after the caning. Katy and I looked at each other and agreed. Then he said, "Right, let's get started," and led the way to another room.

There were two seats at the opposite end of the room where his parents went and sat. In the middle of the room was a large old-fashioned armchair which had obviously been moved there from its normal position against the wall. Across a coffee table lay two canes. They were both lightish brown in colour and slightly curved with crook handles. One, which was bound near the handle with blue coloured tape, was about two feet long and quite thin; the other was bound in red and was longer and thicker.

Mr Marling picked up the slender cane and beckoned to Katy to come forward and stand where he wanted her. He said, "This is the prelude to the main part of your punishment - four strokes on the hand with this cane. It's the one I use on naughty junior boys at my school, so it's not going to be so very dreadful, but let me tell you - this cane stings and I intend to make you feel it. And let me give you a warning. If you take your hand away during this part of your punishment I will not only make quite sure that you receive all four strokes but for each such occasion you will receive two additional strokes on your backside. Now, Miss Notley, hold out your left hand."

It was strange to hear him refer to her so formally, and in a sarcastic tone, by her surname, but Katy did as she was told. He adjusted her hand until it was the right height for him. Then he raised the cane. I was standing to one side and I could see that Katy had closed her eyes tight and that her lips were pressed together. But she kept her hand held steadily out.

Suddenly Mr Marling slashed the cane down hard. I was amazed at the speed and violence of it landing on Katy's outstretched palm. She gasped with a sharp indrawn breath and jerked her hand away, shaking it to try to assuage the sting. Mr Marling gave her a few moments and then said, calmly, "Now the other hand, please." Once again a hand was delicately held out and the cane was slowly raised and then swished down to land with a loud crack across the soft flesh of Katy's palm. This time her gasp was louder and she did a short dance of pain before pressing her right hand between her side and her left arm. I was surprised at how hard Mr Marling was hitting her and how little fuss Katy was making. I was sure he couldn't cane his school kids as hard as that.

Then he said "Now the first hand again," and Katy had to extend the already caned left palm for a second time. Katy's eyes were open again and I could see the tears welling in her large blue eyes. This time she cried out with the pain as the stroke landed and it took her a long time to ready herself for the last stroke of this part of her punishment. I could see that she had to use all of her willpower to keep her hand in place. I hoped against hope that she would be able to resist the impulse to pull it away before Mr Marling brought the cane down, thus earning herself the additional strokes on her bottom she had been warned about.

Just as the cane flashed downwards Katy did lose her nerve and started to move her hand but the only effect was that it lashed down right across her fingers and must have hurt even more than the others. Katy yelled wildly and started to cry. She danced about once again, waving her hands wildly. Mr Marling replaced the cane on the coffee table and picked up the other, longer, cane. His parents whispered something to each other.

Katy had seen nothing of this as she was obviously still obsessed by the stinging pain in her hands. Mr Marling attracted her attention by walking round behind her and swishing the cane across her back, not too hard but hard enough to make her flinch and look up. He then said "Well, Miss Notley, that's got the preliminaries out of the way. Now we can start on the real caning. This is the cane I use on senior boys. They don't often come back for a second dose!"

He flexed the cane and clearly, despite its greater thickness, it was just as wickedly supple as the first one. He made a couple of practise strokes through the air and the cane made a hissing sound. I dreaded to think of the effect that this heavier cane would have on poor Katy's soft bottom, having seen how much the lighter cane had hurt her.

Mr Marling took hold of Katy, manoeuvred her to the armchair and told her to bend over its side. She gave me a glance full of pain and fear, but than she complied. As she slowly leaned forward he roughly pushed her head down closer to the seat and pulled up her skirt, pinning it into place. The pink-and-white panties were now displayed and clearly offered no real protection to Katy's trembling bottom; a bottom at which Mr and Mrs Marling senior were gazing in fascination.

Their son spoke to Katy again. "I intend this to hurt you a good deal, Miss Notley, but I expect you to stay in place until I give you permission to stand up. Otherwise you'll get those extra strokes you avoided so narrowly just now."

He raised the cane to shoulder height and drew it back, pausing to take aim. Stepping forward he delivered the stroke so as to produce maximum force. I heard the whack as the cane landed and saw Katy's whole body shudder. She squealed with pain and kicked her legs, but remained bent over. Before she could have had time to recover Mr Marling whipped the cane down for the second stroke.

This time there was a louder yell and he allowed a longer time before the next stroke. Katy's sobs could be clearly heard and I couldn't believe Mr Marling could be so completely merciless, hitting my darling Katy so hard when she was already in such pain. However he showed no pity and, if anything, the next two strokes were even harder. After the fourth Katy screamed with the pain and her hands instinctively flew back to protect her bottom. But it was only for a moment and then by a great effort of willpower she took her hands away and with a moan once more presented her agonisingly sore bottom to Mr Marling's cane.

Somehow she managed to take three more strokes delivered with vicious force across her full-stretched panties. Then, after the seventh, Katy shot upright and covered her bottom with her hands. She hopped around and then stood jumping from one foot to the other facing her tormentor. Now I could see her tear-stained face screwed up with pain. Katy begged piteously to be let off and screamed over and over again that she was sorry and that she simply couldn't take any more.

Mr Marling gave her time to scream herself out and then said "You're only making it worse for yourself, Miss Notley. That's an extra two strokes - seven to go." As he spoke I could hear that he was panting slightly from his exertions. Katy would not bend down again but continued to hop about, twisting and wriggling in pain with her cane-marked hands holding her bottom. Mr Marling asked me to try to persuade her to submit to the rest of the punishment. "Remember I can still go to the papers," he said.

I didn't know what to say to Katy. I tried to comfort her and tell her how brave she was, but it was no use. In the end our generous Mr Marling offered to let her off with only three more strokes - if she would take them on her bared bottom after taking her panties off!

Still crying non-stop and squirming in pain, Katy considered this awful choice for a long time - and then reluctantly agreed.

It was a heart rending business as the poor girl tried to use her wealed and obviously still painful hands to ease her panties off her devastated buttocks. I almost started to cry in sympathy. At last Katy's panties were down to her ankles and she started, ever so slowly, to bend forward again.

Mr Marling, with an unctuous look on his face, suggested that I should hold Katy in position for the last strokes so that there would be no more 'interruptions'. As I crossed behind her I saw for the first time the horrible purplish weals and the bruises beginning to form on the smooth white flesh of Katy's bottom.

I bent over her, holding her lightly, and trying to whisper endearments to her. I could feel her trembling and the tremendous tension. I didn't look at Mr Marling and the first I knew of the next stroke was the whirring sound as it slashed through the air. Suddenly I felt Katy's whole body convulse at the pain and she howled piteously, but I kept hold of her. She bucked and twisted frenziedly while Mr Marling waited, watching her naked bottom, until she settled back after about a minute, sobbing.

The next stroke was even harder still and I felt the terrific force of it as it smashed down onto Katy's unprotected and terribly tender bottom. She screamed again - inches from my ear - and seemed unable to stop. She was still screaming as Mr Marling delivered the final stroke with undiminished venom. I continued to hold her as he admired the effects of his handiwork etched across her backside and unpinned her skirt.

Then I let Katy go, but she continued to sob into the seat of the armchair as if her heart was broken. Eventually she got up and tried to stand still but wriggled and writhed, still obviously in agony. Tears were pouring from her cheek onto the carpet.

Mr Marling went round and stood in front of her and said, "I think that's taught you a lesson you won't forget, young lady. I don't imagine you'll be sitting down comfortably for a couple of days. And now I want you to go over and apologise to my parents."

Walking was obviously very painful. Katy clamped her hands to the back of the blue skirt, which had fallen back down over her wealed bottom, to try to contain the pain and hobbled towards Mr and Mrs Marling. Her panties had fallen off during her gyrations and I picked them up and put them in my pocket. Katy somehow managed to mumble something to the elderly couple and Mr Marling said he would now sign the agreement, which he did. Then he said we could go.

Each step must have been agony for Katy, but I managed to help her out of the house and into the car. I got her in it, stretched face-down over the back seat with her feet on the floor. Luckily no-one was watching. I've no idea how Katy would have managed if she hadn't asked me to go with her.

I drove her back to her flat and she was still sobbing when we got there. I helped her out of the car and upstairs. She went first of all to the bathroom and was sick. I got her a glass of water and cleared up a bit. Then I got her to lie on her stomach on the bed and carefully lifted up her skirt.

Her bottom was a terrible sight, horribly swollen, covered with bruises and marked with a frightful tracery of raised weals. Katy could hardly speak. I decided the best thing to do was to dip a couple of face flannels in cold water and place them over her swollen bottom.

I asked if she wanted me to stay with her but she said she wanted to be left alone. When I got home I couldn't help masturbating over what I had seen. I kept the panties Katy had been wearing and put them away. Next day I went round to see Katy early, before work. I had the key to her flat and let myself in.

Katy was lying on her bed, stark naked with an electric fan directing cold air onto her bottom. She got up when I came in and walked very stiffly and slowly over to me. I put my arms around her and kissed and cuddled her, very delicately letting my hand wander towards her bottom. As I ran my fingers very gently over her wealed rear I felt her quiver with pain and press her body closer to mine. Then she broke clear of my arms. I asked her how she felt and she said that her bottom still throbbed awfully, but that her hands were all right. However I could still see the marks left by the cane on her palms.

That evening Katy felt better enough for me to take her down to the pub - although she chose to stand up by the bar. In fact it was over a week before she could sit down properly without wincing. I tried to make love to her that night, but she said her bruises were still too painful.

The marks on Katy's bottom did not finally disappear until several weeks after these events, but long before that our relationship was back to normal again. The experience left me with a burning interest in the corporal punishment of girls, but Katy, perhaps understandably, has no desire whatsoever to be spanked. Even if I playfully give her a tap on her bottom she gets very annoyed. I love Katy and plan to marry her, but now you know why I read Janus and Privilege.

D R

London