New author Six of the Best - part one
Steven...@bigfoot.com
Chapter 1 (Is he really going to cane me?)
My tale starts back in 1966 when I worked for a small firm of paper importers in
South London. My father got me the job, as he knew the guys who ran the company and often
had a drink with them after work.
Let me take you further back in time to 1961 when I was still at school. At
school I was not very interested in the three R's and often skipped lessons. Along with
my other friends who also truanted the Headmaster punished me by having my hands caned.
The usual punishment was to have three strokes on each hand - palm up. Boy! Did it sting,
but the pain soon went - well after about two hours. Let me describe a typical punishment
episode.
After my class teacher had made sure I had not been in school or rather had left
without permission she would tell one of the deputy head teachers. The facts would then
be passed to the head who would decide on the punishment. If it was a first or second
offence one got detention the second longer than the first, sometimes culprits would be
placed on litter duty for a week. Anyway, I digress... What happened on my first hand
caning was that I was told to go to the heads secretary's office at morning registration.
When I arrived there I was told to wait until Mr Catchpole had finished 'lower school'
assembly. I sat on a chair in the hall way outside his office listening to the 'speeches'
etc. thinking and wondering what he was going to say or do. I knew that the boys were
caned across their trousers but I'd never heard of a girl being caned in this fashion but
I had read the Sunday papers and heard stories of girls being caned at private schools. I
didn't have to wait very long for Mr. Catchpole. He came sweeping past me with his gown
in full flow; he looked like Batman after some 'crooks' suddenly he stopped, turned around
and stared at me sitting there. "Margaret Jones" he bellowed, "come with me girl." I
stood up and followed him into his office. "Stand there girl." He pointed to a spot on
the carpet and I stopped dead letting him continue to his desk.
He leant forward and pressed a button and a buzzer sounded in the next room. After what
seemed an eternity Mrs. Williams, his secretary, came in with a long beige book and placed
it on the desk in front of him. "Jones! This is not the first time you have been caught
truanting, not the second, third or fourth is it?"
"No sir." I sheepishly answered. "In view of this I am going to cane you severely. I
hope this is a lesson for you." He took a short length of yellow cane from his desk
drawer and came towards me. "Jones, I must have a female witness present when I punish
you and Mrs. Williams will satisfy that requisite. Now girl, hold out your left hand
shoulder height and palm uppermost. I am going to give you two strokes on each hand."
I started to quake in my shoes and felt as though I was going to wet myself. Somehow I
managed to put my left arm out straight and then closed my eyes. I heard the swish as the
cane sliced through the air and then heard a 'crack' as it hit me. I felt a sharp pain
shoot through my hand, up my arm and down to my tummy. I gritted my teeth and tried not
to scream or cry. I put my hand out again for the second stroke, which hit me almost
instantly I had closed my eyes.
I grabbed hold of my left hand with my right and rubbed it and rubbed it to ease the
sting. "Raise you right hand Jones." came the order from Catchpole. I meekly complied
and received another two stinging cuts across my right hand.
"Off you go Jones. Let this be a lesson to you. If you are caught again it will be six
strokes. Go on off to your lessons."
Trying not to cry but with tears rolling down my cheeks I went back to my classroom. My
mates wanted to see my hands and Jane, my best friend, poured some body lotion over my
hands and I gently rubbed them together. The pain went after about half an hour, well not
quite but I could use my hand to write with. I was excused rounders because I couldn't
catch a ball or hold a bat as it was still a little painful but I managed to survive the
day.
The most annoying this was that when I got home my mum told me to go to my room and wait
for her. About twenty minutes later mum came in carrying a bamboo cane. "Your headmaster
phoned me this morning and told me about your behaviour. I gave him permission to cane
you on your hands but I am now going to give you a taste of what you really deserve. Come
over here and touch your toes." I saw mum meant what she said so I walked round my bed
and bent over in front of her. I felt my skirt rise up my thighs and the cool air on my
lower bottom cheeks. I knew my knickers were showing but I felt sure my skirt would
soften any blows mum gave me, as it was not tight across my backside. How wrong could I
be? Before I knew it mum lifted my skirt and threw it over my back. She continued, "As I
said, this is a taste of what you will get next time." and with that she hit me twice with
all her strength. It felt as if a red-hot poker had been placed across my bottom. I
jumped up yelling my head off rubbing my arse as if it were on fire, which, come to think
about it, it was! God! First my hands at school now my backside at home. My first caning
in fifteen years and not the last. I can say that I didn't truant for the rest of the
year and never got detention till the day I left which, incidentally, was only four months
later.
Back to 1966. The job was nice and easy, no computers just a typewriter and telephone.
My job was to answer the 'phone and type the occasional letter that wasn't too urgent.
The boss' had their own secretary each. Both these ladies were in their late thirties and
were, what I called, snobbish. We were allowed to make the 'occasional' private phone
call as long as it was a, occasional and b, local. I used to take liberties with this
rule and often called my boyfriend who worked in Tonbridge Wells.
One day in I called Jim to make arrangements to meet him at the Empire - Leicester Square
in London's West end and stayed on line for about three quarters an hour. In 1966 phone
calls were not very cheap and we didn't have the benefit of digitally controlled networks
so I actually tied up one of the three-telephone lines we had at the busiest time of the
day. As you could imagine, I wasn't very popular at the time and I was called into the
boss' office to explain my behaviour.
Suddenly I felt like a schoolgirl again being told off by the head for truanting. Boy was
he mad. He ranted and raved on about missed business, lost money, angry customers and not
to mention the cost of the call. As he finished he asked me if I thought my behaviour was
appropriate and did I consider that the phone call was actually 'theft' of both time and
money. I looked down and stared at my shoes poking out from the hem of my skirt and heard
myself mutter, "Sorry Mr. Waters, I'll pay for the call. You can take it out my wages. I
won't do it again."
Still staring at my shoes I started to get a bit nervous. It was almost the same feeling
I got before my mum gave me the cane five years earlier. I was very conscious of my
sexuality at that time. I saw my stockings disappearing under my skirt and the cups of my
bra pushed my blouse outwards which, in turn, forced my jacket apart. I could just see my
knees if I bent my legs slightly and felt sure they were quivering. Mr. Waters suddenly
shouted at me, "Pay for it, pay for it. Girl, you couldn't afford to pay for the lost
business, the phone calls, maybe, but it might have cost us thousands of pounds during the
time you were on the phone."
I found myself looking straight at Mr. Waters and then heard myself answer him back. I
couldn't believe what I was saying, "You don't know for sure though sir. Do you?"
The look on his face was astounding. His jaw dropped open and he glanced at his partner,
Gerald Hopkins, and then to his secretary. "Listen to me clearly and listen good... If
we could get along at the present time without you I give you your marching orders but
your work is good and we need you but bear in mind next time you are out of order I'll
have to sack you."
"Yes sir." I said sheepishly, still staring at my shoes. "What was that Margaret? I
didn't quite hear you."
"I said I was sorry Mr. Waters." I looked up keeping my head bowed slightly and repeated
it again, "Sorry sir. I'll be good in future."
Mr. Waters replied as he picked up the telephone, "Make sure you are. Now get on with
what I pay you for... Go!"
Barbara, his secretary opened the office door and ushered me through it. She followed
into the reception area and then grabbed hold of my arm. "Hang on there my girl." She
said. I turned to face her and brushed her hand from my coat sleeve. "Don't come the
almighty with me Barbara." I said to her.
Barbara pushed me back and I almost fell into my chair. The look on her face was pure
anger. "Listen Maggie! You don't know how lucky you were in there just now. You need a
good flogging talking to Brian like that you ungrateful tart! Brian carries some weight
with the local firms you know, you won't find it easy to get another job like this."
"He won't sack me cos' my dad and him are best mates; they went to school together, so
there!" I smugly said to her. "Oh really! Well we'll see about that next time won't we."
"There won't be a next time Miss Almighty, will there?"
"You will trip up one day and I'll be watching for it. You'd better be careful...
Maggie!"
"Stop calling me Maggie my name is Margaret... Babs. See how you like it!"
With that Barbara went back into Brian's office. I was trembling through and through. My
head was spinning and my knees were like jelly, I still felt like I was back at school. I
started to think if Brian would say anything to my dad then I though that as it was a
'work' thing he wouldn't - or would he? What could dad do anyway? It was between Mr.
Waters and me, nobody else. Then I remembered Barbara's words "you deserve a flogging!"
and I found my hands sliding into the waistband of my skirt and down under my panties. I
rubbed my bottom thinking about the sting the cane put there when mum hit me with it. I
imagined Brian spanking my bottom for being naughty and began fingering my clitoris. I
rubbed and rubbed until I nearly climaxed in the office. I felt sweaty and horny at the
same time. I heard footsteps and quickly stopped. I attempted to pretend that all was Ok
and I was working as normal and was relieved to see that I had 'got away' with it as Brian
and Barbara walked past and out the front door. How wrong could I have been!
Things were back to normal except for Barbara. She was still a little 'hostile' towards
me. She would throw sarcastic comments about my dress, my education my boyfriend and
about the area I came from even my sexuality some times. I noticed she never let Brian
Waters hear any of her remarks but I vowed to get even one day. Unfortunately, for her,
that day came a little later than I would have liked but when it came it was well worth
it.
However, back to my problem.
Continued: