“You vicious bitch,” shouted Brian upon discovering the miscarriage of company justice. The caning Margaret just received over her panty covered bottom should have been administered to Barbara. Under Brian’s direction Barbara’s dress is removed and panties are lowered: wearing only knickers, bra and a striped bottom, Margaret helps restore corporate justice as she and a female co-worker spiritedly apply the cane to Barbara’s deserving bare flesh.
You are welcome to contact the author Steven Walsh.
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 hallway 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 nor 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 palms 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 games 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 thing 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 sixteen 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 bosses each had their own secretary. 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 occasional and 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 outward 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 okay 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.
Three weeks later I was typing some reports and quotes for the sales team when Mr. Waters called me into his office. In his hand were some papers and the top copy was flopping forward. I could just make out the heading and realized it was the telephone bill. Brian invited me to sit down and called Gerald from the adjoining office.
“Gerry, this young lady has made several ‘phone calls from her phone, long distance I add, to her boyfriend.”
“Really Brian, how much does she owe us?”
“About two hundred and forty pounds I reckon.”
I felt myself getting embarrassed and spluttered, “I’ll pay you back sir.”
Brian looked over his glasses and said, “Just how might you do that young lady when you are unemployed?”
“You can’t, please don’t sack me. Can’t you punish me in some other way? Please sir my dad’ll kill me if you sack me. Please!”
“What do you think Gerry?”
“I think this might be a woman thing Brian, let’s ask Barbara what she would do if it was up to her.” Brian opened Barbara’s door and invited her into the office. Brian told her about the telephone bill and Gerry’s suggestion about asking for her advice.
“Well,” she paused, “When I was nineteen I saw my sister get the cane for stealing apples from a lorry delivering to the school and, I suppose this is a type of theft. So… I would say she deserves a caning but whether she would accept it is another thing. Then again, you can always sack her!”
Brian thought for a bit and went over to Gerry and said a few words to him then they both went over to Barbara and spoke softly. Finally Brian said, “Margaret, I have heard your offerings and apologies once too often and I have…”
I butted in, “Please Brian, sir, Mr. Waters, sir… You can cane me if you want to but please don’t sack me… Please!”
“Interesting?” He said turning to Barbara, “Barbara, I’ll have to ask you to witness this, no, would you do the honours for us by punishing young Margaret as you think fit.”
“Yes Mr. Waters. Excuse me.” She turned and went back to her office. I stood there shaking, well not quite shaking but very nervous I can tell you. Brian and Gerry looked at me and I became very conscious that I was only wearing thin nylon panties under my skirt.
Barbara returned carrying the cane that was usually supporting the rubber plant in the outer office. My eyes stared at it, transfixed, so to say. I couldn’t quite believe what I had let myself in for. Barbara was going to punish me for Mr. Waters and Mr. Hopkins. She whispered something to Brian and he picked up the telephone. “Hello Jean… Would you come into my office for a moment please.” Jean was Gerry’s secretary, a pretty lady in her late thirties and, like Barbara, a little snooty!
Jean came in and saw Barbara holding the cane then turned to Brian and said, “What have I done now?”
This took me aback. “You haven’t done anything Jean. Barbara is going to punish Margaret for running up a two hundred pound ‘phone bill at our expense.” Jean gave a sigh of relief and turned to look at me. “I would like to see this for once because I’ve only felt it before. Oh! Don’t think you and me are the only ones, Barbara has had her fair share of the cane as well.” With that she went to a chair by the window and made herself comfortable.
“Well Barbara, it’s up to you now.” Said Brian and sat on the edge of his desk next to Gerry.
Barbara told me to get the other chair from her office and I just went and got it as though I was dreaming. I brought it back to Brian’s office and Barbara pointed to a spot in the centre of the floor. I presumed I was to put the chair there, so I did. She then told me to stand behind the chair, about fifteen inches away with my legs about eighteen inches apart. I went over to the chair back and took a half step back from it and then shuffled my feet apart the required eighteen inches.
I could feel a cool breeze run up my skirt and round the tops of my stockings. My skirt felt tight across my bottom as I stared at Jean sitting opposite.
“That’s right girl!” said Barbara. “Now bend forward, stretch over the chair back and grab the sides of the seat. I started to lean across the chair back when Jean said, “Hang on a minute, I had to take my dress off when I had it last week.”
“Yes. That’s right. Margaret, please take off your blouse and skirt first.” Said Barbara rather forcefully.
I stood up and unclipped the waistband of my skirt and slid the zipper down. The skirt flopped open from the waist and I slid it down my legs and stepped out of it. I passed it to Jean who laid it across her lap. I then, embarrassingly, started to unbutton my blouse and my tummy was turning over and over with fear of what was soon going to happen to my bottom. I slipped my blouse off my shoulders and again handed it to Jean.
Standing there with just my stockings, suspender belt, panties and bra I felt almost naked and very vulnerable. It wasn’t too long before Barbara ordered me to bend over the chair again so I stepped up to it ‘all brave like’ and placed my shoes the required distance apart about 15” away from the chair and bent forward until I felt the chair back touch my tummy and then grabbed the seat edges to support myself.
Jean tapped my bottom twice with the cane and I wondered what it would feel like – the first stroke? Will it hurt? What will I do? Jean tapped my bottom again and then I heard a swish and felt a sharp pain race through my body! I jumped up clutching by back-side, hopping from one leg to the other shouting, or rather yelling “Christ!!!!!!”.
Jane had a wry smile on her face as I was dancing about and looked pleased that someone else was getting hurt instead of her. Barbara ordered me back over the chair and I duly complied.
Whack! Whack! Whack came another three blows with the cane and I was crying buckets now. Whack! The fifth stroke landed across the tops of my stockings and I let fly with my legs. I fell to the floor whimpering for her to stop but she grabbed hold of my arm and pushed me back over the chair.
“This is the sixth and last stroke and I will make sure it hurts….Are you ready?”
“Yes – just get it over with”
Whoosh! Crack! The cane landed with all mighty force behind it and I again fell to the floor sobbing and rubbing my bottom.
All my dignity had gone and I was half sitting half laying with all my underwear on show.
I heard Brian say to me “Let that be a lesson for making phone calls to America at our expense.”
“Pardon! Did you say America?”
“Yes! That’s where you have been calling isn’t it?”
“No! I’ve never ever called America, I don’t know anyone in the States but your bloody Barbara has a daughter there doesn’t she?”
“Barbara! Was it you making those calls?”
“Er! Yes sir! But she got what was coming to her – I’ll write you a cheque”
“Hell you will you vicious bitch!” shouted Brian.
I’d never seen him so wild. He was like a raging bull; he rushed around the desk knocking his chair over as he rushed to stand up. He grabbed hold of Barbara’s arm and swung her round to face me. She looked me up and down and said “Does it hurt? It was meant to and I can see those are real tears – I hope those marks take a long time to go.”
Brian asked if I was alright and I answer dim with a sob, “Yes Sir – I’ll be okay!”
“That’s good because I want you to watch this and maybe get your own back”
Barbara said, “You’re not going to punish me here – after all I have offered to pay for the phone calls.”
“That’s not the point is it Barbara? You would not have offered if you hadn’t been found out and you went ahead and caned Maggie for something you were responsible for.”
“She had it coming!”
“Maybe but not this time – this time it is your turn now bend over and touch your toes madam!”
Barbara shuffled her dress into place and turned away from me and Brian. I was amazed by the calmness of the situation. I watched Barbara walk to the centre of the office and raise her arms in the air and then place her feet about a foot apart then bend over and point her fingers at the toes of her stiletto heeled shoes. Her dress rode up slightly at the back just showing the tops of her stockings and petticoat.
Brian picked up the cane and swished it through the air a few times – even hearing it again made me jumpy but Barbara just stayed there bent over.
“We’ll have this out of the way madam!” Brian said as he slowly lifted Barbara’s skirt and pushed it over her back. “This will have to go as well.” He said as he lifted the nylon petticoat and pushed it over her back with the skirt.
I stood there, still in my underwear, looking at Barbara’s backside facing me through a pair of flimsy nylon panties. Her suspenders were taught against her thighs and her legs were dead straight.
“Watch this Maggie – you’ll like it – she won’t but you will!”
With one almighty movement Brian swung the cane from high above his head and I watched in amazement as every movement seemed to be in slow motion. The cane began it’s decent to her back-side by bending at the place where his hand held it. It curved back in a gentle arc as the hand descended, the rod began to pick up speed to catch up with Brian’s hand and the tip became a fuzzy blur. Suddenly the cane landed across Barbara’s panties causing them to fold into the skin and then tighten. Her bottom cheeks distorted by ripples, shuddered slightly and then the tip of the cane, which had gradually been gathering speed as it descended suddenly whipped around her right cheek biting deeply into her right thigh.
Barbara let out a deep gasp and wobbled as Brian continued with the stroke of the cane as though he was aiming at a target about two or three inches beyond Barbara’s bottom.
The cane seemed to bounce off her backside with the speed it arrived at and I saw ripples of flesh and muscle run across her leg and right bottom cheek.
I though ‘God that must have hurt!’ then I saw it did because she sprang up like a scalded cat (which is what she was) and clawed at her backside yelling “Ow! Ow! Shit! Fucking hell! Shit!”.
Brian then told her to get back down again and lift her skirt and petticoat as before. Barbara hitched her dress and petticoat up to her waist and bent over throwing the cloth over her back as she bent over. Again she was pointing at her toes with straight legs and I could see a deep red mark straight across her bottom gradually disappearing round her right thigh.
Brian raised the cane again and brought it down as before, very fast and hard. Barbara lurched forward this time and nearly fell onto Jean’s lap but she managed to steady herself and stood up rubbing her bottom again and swearing under her breath.
“Look Barbara,” said Brian, “this is no good, take your dress off and anything else that might hinder this episode.”
Barbara looked about the room for support but nobody moved or said anything – least of all me! She reached behind her head and slid the zipper down and then slipped the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She crouched down and picked it up then draped it over a vacant chair. She slipped the shoulder straps of the slip off her shoulders and again stepped out of the silky material and laid it over the chair.
“I know what we’ll do.” Said Brian as he walked over to Gerry, “help me get this armchair over there.” Pointing to where I’d been caned a few minutes earlier.
Gerry and Brian dragged the armchair across to where I was standing and arranged it so the back was facing the window. Gerry called Jean over to the other side of the room and she put Barbara’s clothes over the chair she had been sitting on.
Brian took hold of Barbara’s arm and led her to the back of the armchair. Pushing her slightly he ordered her to lean over the back of the armchair and put her hands on the arms keeping her feet firmly on the floor. Barbara meekly bent forwards and grasped the arms of the chair. Her legs were stretched tight. Brian lightly kicked her feet apart slightly and I saw the crotch of her knickers tighten as her bottom cheeks were pulled apart.
Jean then walked up to her and put both hands in the waist-band of Barbara’s panties and pulled them down to her knees, “That about right for this – on the bare please Brian I’m going to enjoy watching this.”
“So am I,” I found myself saying.
“Not so fast girls, you’ve both had a taste of Barbara’s wicked hand now it’s time to get your own back – so to say.”
Brian went over to the desk and picked up the cane, he swished it through the air a few times and then handed it to Jean. Jean’s face began to light up, a smug smile appeared on her lips as she ran her fingers along the length of the bamboo stick in her hand. Walking over to where Barbara was draped over the chair back Jean said, quite firmly,
“This is going to be so nice Barbara, now all I want you to do is to count to ten, that is count the number of strokes I’m going to give you and say thank you Jean after each one. If you miss one and don’t say it by the time the next stroke hits then it’s forfeit and doesn’t count. Ready?
“You’re enjoying this, go on, get it over with.”
Jean tapped the cane on Barbara’s bare behind and without any further ado she whacked the rod down hard across Barbara’s bottom. A gasp came from Barbara and she said, “One thank you, Jean.”
Jean laid another just as hard and again Barbara said, “Two, thank you, Jean.”
Slowly Jean carried on hitting Barbara with the cane until she got to the eighth stroke. Barbara was now crying and didn’t utter the count so Jean waited, and waited, then she glanced at me and not knowing what to say I just shrugged my shoulders. “Okay! Forfeit!” said Jean and quickly brought the cane down once again across Barbara’s very red striped backside.
“Shit!” yelled Barbara, “Nine thank you, Jean.”
“Sorry Barbara you forfeited number eight so that should be eight thank you!”
“You bastard, eight thank you Jean!” came the reply from Barbara.
Whack! “Nine thank you Jean.”
Whack! ”Ten thank you Jean.”
“Can I get up now?”
“No!” said Brian, “There’s a little matter of Maggie, here you are Maggie,” handing me the cane, “I think she could do with another eight strokes from you.”
I walked over to Barbara who was now crying quite profusely and rubbed my hand over her bottom. Wow! It felt like a railway level crossing with lots of welts running from side to side and the heat coming off it, well it felt like a small electric fire.
Never ever held a cane to hit someone with I felt a little awkward so I tapped the end on Barbara’s right cheek and raised it and brought it back down to lay across both cheeks. Having got my aim right all I needed was strength to whack it down hard.
I took a deep breath and swung the stick with all the effort I could muster. Crack! I heard it land then I heard a scream from Barbara, “Yeooow! Shit! Christ, Fuck you! That was across my legs you bitch.”
“Shut up madam and take your punishment as you dish it out.” Shouted Gerry from the back of the room.
I raised the cane and whacked it down across the centre of her bottom this time and then followed through as I saw Brian do earlier. Barbara jumped and flayed her legs about, I waited till she was still before carrying on. After the sixth stroke she was blubbering and sobbing and after the eighth and final one from me she was very subdued.
She tried to get up from the chair but her hand slipped and she fell back. I went over to her and held her hand so she could get up easier. As she rose up her pants fell to the floor and rested on her ankles and shoes. Her breasts were heaving as she cried and huffed and sniffled. All her modesty gone this woman that had been so nasty to me was now holding my hand like a mother would a child. She put her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, “Thank you Maggie, I think I deserved that for caning you. Please wait behind after work I’d like to talk to you in private.”
I patted her and whispered back, “Okay! Let me get your clothes, I think you’d better pull you knickers up or you’ll fall over.
Barbara pulled her panties up and rubbed her blazing backside. Then she slipped her petticoat over her head and then her dress. She came across to me so I could zip it back up. Brian and Gerry was re-arranging the office so I grabbed my blouse and skirt and quickly got into them again.
Barbara didn’t sit down much that afternoon and kept rather quiet whilst she got on with her work.
Five o’clock came and we got our coats to go home but as I was putting mine on Barbara came over to me and asked me to stay behind for a bit because she wanted to have a chat as she put it. After the others had left I went into Barbara’s office and sat down….
To be continued …
Copyright (c) Steven Walsh 2002
You are welcome to contact the author Steven Walsh.