Then it was Saturday. Daniella, Michelle, and I, smartly dressed with our Discipline Academy uniforms, anxiously waited on the bench outside the office of our coach. We weren't too chatty. We were expecting to be called one by one, but Mr Martin-Lewis called us together.
"You three have been punished twice this week. We haven't had such indiscipline for weeks. Take your kilt and knickers off and keep your hands on your head. We had a blushing competition as we exposed our curls.
"Julia, you are first. I will be lenient since it is your first week. I'll spare you the tawse." He pulled the wooden chair he uses for over the knees spankings in the middle of the room. "Bend over the back of that chair and grab the seat."
I blushed as I felt my bare bottom well exposed because of the tall back of that chair. Then there was a loud smack followed by a wide stripe of fire blazing across my bum. Louise was right, the strap was hotter than Papa's belt. He also smacked my thighs, and at twenty two I danced as a punished schoolgirl.
"OH! OUCH! OUCH!"
"Stand up, don't rub, hands on your head."
I stood, bare from my navel with my throbbing derriere and thighs. I was quite contrite and didn't dare rub.
Michelle was next, and as another newbie, she got the same as me. Daniella, who had joined a week before, got the tawse. Its twin tails were thicker than the strap and it gave her bottom a deep crimson shade.
Her sniffling echoed ours and we were well convinced to improve our ways. We knew that our bums wouldn't turn blue, because the philosophy is about giving us a fiery bum without excessive bruising.
On Monday, I signed up, paid my fees, and for a few weeks, I was a very good girl making steady progress. I imagined giving tennis lessons to the wife of the managing director, and running the Paris marathon.
Then I missed a lesson and made up a silly excuse. I had also gained two pounds. It was three caning offences.
Our coach scolded me, "Julia, you deserve the cane. For a first caning offence I am usually lenient, four strokes being enough to teach a naughty girl a good lesson, but you have accumulated three caning offences. You will receive the full six of the best."
Saturday morning, the day of my caning had come. "Julia, raise your skirt, take your knickers down, and bend over the desk."
While I bared my bum, Mr Martin-Lewis swished the cane through the air and the menacing hissing sound had me shuddering. I recalled Louise having said, "It's a junior rattan cane for a very stingy punishment with less bruising." I wasn't too reassured. I wasn't caned when in school.
It wasn't the first time that I was exposing my bare bottom in front of my coach and friends. I nonetheless shamefully blushed as I couldn't hide myself although tigthly closing my legs. I felt a naughty schoolgirl about to be severely punished. I also knew that I deserved that punishment for having skipped a gym class and lied about it.
Barely a split second after the swishing sound a incandescent stripe burned across my bottom. I gasped, and the fire from that stripe grew into an infernal sting. "OH! AH! AIE! OUCH!"
I felt each of the following strokes fiercely burning my derriere and sniffled.
"AIE! AIE! AIE!"
"Let that be a lesson to you, Julia!"
"Sniff... Yes Sir... Snifff... I am very sorry Sir... Sniffff..."
Later, I didn't ride my bike on the way home. I pushed it all the way, and carefully avoided that boys' school. Once home, I had a long soak with Epsom salts, before sleeping on my tummy.
Sunday, as usual, was a full day at the Crimson Manor Country Club. I left home early as I again preferred to push my bike instead of riding it. The shortish kilt felt shorter than ever, and it was tickling the still very tender stripes escaping my knickers. I felt like a well chastised schoolgirl fearing that a naughty boy would sneak behind her and raise her skirt.
Suddenly I felt a cold draft and knew that my worse fear had became reality. One of those mean junior boys, always on the prowl by the Country Club, had raised my skirt. I had no doubt that everyone in the street saw that I was caned. Blushing to my ears, I ran. Adrian, the fitness room coach, chased that boy and his friends.
We were told to change into our field hockey dresses for a game with the girls of the local remedial school. Our dresses were even shorter than our kilt and gym knickers clearly showed who were the naughty girls among us. We also saw how the remedial school kept its girls on the straight and narrow!
To be continued...
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