On the farm part 6 and Epilogue

It was again the day for our monthly report cards. I handed mine to Auntie with butterflies in my tummy. I had been unlucky, I had a D and an F in physics and chemistry tests. I knew that a D meant two strokes of the cane and the F meant four. Agnes had summed up. "Ouch! Its six of the best."

 

Auntie announced. "You are going to learn how I deal with lazy girls!"

 

I remembered how the two strokes of the cane I had received on arrival for my shortish skirt had taken my breath away. I was lucky that Aunty didn't notice that I shamefully wetted my knickers.

 

"Go fetch your cane, and hurry up!"

 

I hurried upstairs. Went to the loo, dried myself, changed into clean knickers, and shivered as I took my cane from behind my bedroom door. It was going to be my first sixer.

 

Back in the dining room Auntie ordered, "Pull your knickers down to your knees and lie over the table with your skirt up. Each time you break your position or rub it will be a stroke across your thighs."

 

 THWACK!

 

"OH! AH! OUCH!"

 

THWACK!!

 

"AH! ARGHHH!"

 

I felt my knickers fluttering down my legs.

 

THWACK!!!

 

"AIE! AIEEEEE!"

 

I was now free of my knickers, and I was tap dancing

 

THWACK!!!!

 

"AH! OUCH! OUCHEEEEE!"

 

Four strokes, my bottom was furiously burning. I was in tears, and couldn't help rubbing. Auntie whipped my thighs, "ARGHHHHHH!"

That was as fiery as the four strokes blazing across my bum. I didn't want another one, and gripped the table to refrain from rubbing my throbbing thighs.

I no longer bothered to close my legs for the last two, and they had me blubbering.

 

Finally she had me stand in the corner with having hooked my cane into my rolled up skirt. "If I hear that cane drop you will get an extra stroke!" Sniffling I stood very still in the corner. I heard the maids, "City girl now knows what it is like to be caned in the country."

 Agnes did her best with a bag of crushed ice and our latest after spanking balm, but next day in class I couldn't help wriggling in my seat. I wasn't the only to have been punished for a poor monthly report, and there was no teasing. That was a tender mercy. The horrid science Mistress was satisfied.

 

Gym was horrible, my shorts couldn't hide the vivid stripe across my thighs and I heard a boy telling his friend, "Natty mod couldn't hold her position."

 

Epilogue

 

 I feared those punishments. I applied myself as best as I could, and Agnes helped. Eventually my grades steadily improved. I got my A-levels with honors as Agnes, although she had done better than me.

 

Our experiments with after spanking balms led us to med school to be pharmacists. It was in Manchester and Mom housed both of us, but she wouldn't punish us when we got poor grades. She nonetheless followed Aunty's suggestion that we should continue to wear skirts or dresses with bare legs, no stockings for us.

 

For every holidays we were back on the farm. Auntie carefully studied our reports cards, and we fidgeted as we stood at attention while waiting for her to pass the verdict.

 

"How do you expect to be a pharmacist with such science grades Elizabeth?"

 

I blushed, and kept my head down.

 

"Take off your skirt and knickers, you will be receiving eight strokes of the cane."

 

It didn't take more than three minutes to be again a sniffling schoolgirl standing in my old corner with my hands above my head. I was twenty years and shamefully exposing my streaked bum and thighs for everyone present.

 

She now always caned our thighs, although not as hard as our bottoms, and mentioned. "So that you won't be tempted to tease the boys with rolling up your skirts!" She was right, we sure didn't want to show that we were still punished as little girls.

 

On the train back home we were fidgeting in our seats. Agnes still academically a notch above me had received only six strokes. The last two were, of course, applied across her thighs, and our after spanking balm wasn't much help for that.

On the train...

With red faces, we overheard two old ladies whispering.

"I am telling you those Misses High and Mighty were caned as schoolgirls."

"Oh Gladys, that's impossible, they must be at least twenty years!"

"When I entered the compartment, one of them was looking out the window, and I saw purple cane marks across her upper thighs."

"She must have been very naughty..."

 

We acted as we hadn't overheard them. We tried to hide our blushing cheeks with our noses into our biology books.

 

A few years later we graduated, Agnes was first, I was second.

 

Elizabeth and Agnes

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