An Unfortunate Chain of Events

From the archives — an original story by Basil

It all started on Saturday morning. Her best friend, Alison came round, as usual. When Emma opened the door Alison was wearing a new pair of sunglasses. ‘Ta Daaa! Summer’s here and all cool babes will be at the pool!’ she chimed in her usual way. They went upstairs to change into the new bikinis, which they had recently bought for the summer, in readiness. When Emma looked in the mirror she realised that her new bikini was so tiny that dark wisps of pubic hair were poking out. ‘Oh my god!’ I can’t go like this.’ She exclaimed.

‘Oh, come on! You can’t chicken out. And Ke-vin Ty-ler will be there! I saw him this morning. I have the solution. Trim, Emma, trim!’ Alison announced and they both laughed. Emma was a bit embarrassed so she went into the bathroom and Alison stayed in the bedroom. After a few moments Alison was calling again: ‘Why don’t we go all the way. Smooth as silk.’

‘What do you mean?’ Emma questioned.

‘Shave! It’s the fashion in LA, Em.’

‘Alison! FASHION! Who’s going to see it?’ Emma asked disbelievingly.

‘You never know!’ Alison joked.

Emma was eventually persuaded and they did it. As Emma was doing it she kept hearing Alison giggling in the other room. As soon as she’d finished she looked in the mirror. She was quite surprised at the pronounced mound and how her slit looked sort of ‘open’ — you could see, well, ‘things’ between the lips.

When the two girls walked out of the changing rooms into the hot sun at the pool the noise level dropped because most of the older boys were stunned into silence. Both girls had changed a fair bit in the last year — a few extra inches in height and the last of the puppy fat long gone made them look really slim. They glanced at each other, trying not to smile. They were easily the best looking here.

Emma felt a little funny. She was so aware of the smoothness between her legs and just the thin material of her bikini briefs hiding it from all the boys. Strictly speaking not everything was hidden because there was an unmistakable vertical delineation in the taut V at the confluence of her thighs. She couldn’t believe it when she looked in the changing room mirror but it had been too late to back out. She felt like when she had done something wrong, the moment just before she was found out, and there was that tingly feeling ‘down there’. At the same time she felt sort of proud. They’d had a fantastic time, lapping up the admiring glances. And Kevin Tyler had asked for her number!

----//----

On Monday morning the two were full of the events of Saturday. Rather than gloat over things and probably have all sorts of rumours flying around the school by lunchtime, the two girls relived events in hushed whispers in a corner of the playing fields. ‘…Oh My God! Did you see that old bloke checking us out? He was looking at your bum for ages; his tongue was literally hanging out.’ ‘…Eww!..Alison, shut up!...’ They were so engrossed that suddenly they realised the grounds were now empty of girls.

‘Fuck! We’ve missed the fucking bell!’ Alison exclaimed and started off toward the main building. ‘See you lunchtime, Em.’

Emma had to get to the science block, which was unfortunately at the other side of the playing fields, and to get there she would have to cross the main quad right in front of the staff room. Oh, God! But, she thought, I could get in by the back gate which as every girl knew, Mr Hart, the caretaker never bothered to lock until after his tea break. And luckily there was also a well known gap in the hedge just where she was now, to get out onto the path. Emma was still feeling rather scared as she pushed through the bushes. Out on the path she jumped because there was a little dog that started barking and nipping at her heels. ‘Go away!’ she hissed but it ignored her. Emma was getting rather fraught. ‘SOD OFF, you little pest.’

This wasn’t the strongest language that a girl from the school had ever uttered but just as she did so the dog’s owner arrived. And most people would probably have forgiven Emma since the dog was clearly being rather troublesome. Except that the dog’s owner happened to be a certain Mr Previtt. Every girl knew Mr Previtt. He was one of those people that you saw round the school a lot but you didn’t really know what they did. Quite often he was with the Headmaster so you knew he must be important. He was always the one handing out stuff on prize days. Something to do with a ‘school trust’, she seemed to recall. It was Julia Warrender who’d nicknamed him Mr Pervert. ‘He likes a flash of knickers,’ she’d told her disbelieving classmates. ‘It’s true! He’s one of those men that get turned on by looking up girl’s skirts. Why do you think he comes to hockey matches?’ Typical Julia to come up with something as ridiculous as that. Come to think of it he was always there at school matches, even in the pouring rain. But he would anyway if he was in this school trust thing, wouldn’t he? He seemed fairly normal to Emma, usually giving you a sort of smile as he went by. Then Julia had added: ‘Given half a chance, he’ll have your knickers off!’ They all groaned and burst out laughing at Julia’s wild imagination.

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing, young lady?’ he barked. Emma was petrified. ‘Err, umm…’ she could hardly speak ‘just had to get to science… I…’

‘Leaving the school premises during the school day. Truanting are you! And… using uncouth language.’ He stated.

‘Honestly, I was going to class, really,’ she pleaded.

‘Leaving the school premises during the school day is the definition of truanting, is it not? Plainly that is what you were doing. And now we have lying. And I think we might add to that: behaviour in a public place likely to harm the school’s reputation.’

Emma looked down at the ground dejectedly. This was awful.

‘And your name please?’

‘Emma Newton.’

‘Right, Miss Newton, I suggest you make your way back into school and to class and await developments. I expect you will be paying a visit to the Headmaster’s study in due course.’

----//----

The note had been handed to her in afternoon registration. It was in a securely sealed manila envelope. She went straight to the bogs to open it. The note was on the Headmaster’s own personal stationery:

From the Headmaster

To Emma Newton, Form 6K

You are required to present yourself in my study at 5pm sharp tomorrow to discuss a serious matter that has come to my attention.

That was all. Just the minimum of detail. She’d never been in trouble like this before. Once or twice she’d got carried away chatting in class and ended up with a bit of extra homework but that was all. After lessons on Tuesday afternoon, Emma stayed in the library until it closed and then went out and sat on a bench in the playing fields and surveyed the deserted school. All sorts of things ran through her mind about what might be in store for her. Weeks and weeks of detention, maybe? Some girls, she knew, even got suspended or EXPELLED for truancy! Please god don’t let mum and dad find out. Then she recalled that rumour a couple of years ago started by some of the sixth that, in really serious cases, the Head gave girls a ‘whacking’. Eventually the fourth years had agreed it was all made up, but privately most girls decided to be extra careful so as not to test this out.

All too soon the school clock showed 4.50 and Emma made her way inside.

At precisely 5 she knocked on the heavy oak door. A muffled ‘Come in’ was uttered behind the door. She entered the large room with trepidation. The Headmaster was working at his desk. He glanced up and motioned Emma towards the far wall. ‘Wait there!’ he instructed sharply. She stood with her back to the wood panelling. After a minute or two he took a letter off his desk. ‘Come here,’ he said and pointed to the carpet in front of his desk.

He read from the letter: ‘Truanting, uncouth language, lying, behaviour likely to harm the reputation of the school. Quite a catalogue. What have you got to say?’

Emma struggled to say anything. ‘Err… Oh… I… well… No, honestly, I wasn’t, I was going to science, because… um… couldn’t hear the bell… I…’

‘Newton!’ He waved the letter ‘These are the facts of the case. I am not asking you to provide another version of the facts, since there cannot, by definition, be such a thing.’

Emma, being naïve in such matters, had not learned that it was always, but always, best to agree with the Headmaster, without any hint of unwillingness. ‘But, sir! That’s not true, I was just…’ At that moment she was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, which quite startled her. The Headmaster, glaring at her, opened the door. ‘Ah! An opportune moment.’

Emma was dismayed to see Mr Previtt enter the room. The headmaster spoke ‘I’m afraid to say, that, far from offering an apology for her serious misconduct this young lady has just accused you of lying.’ The two men turned to her. She couldn’t speak and felt her cheeks flushing. Now Mr Previtt spoke in his nasal voice: ‘That doesn’t surprise me after the girl’s attitude yesterday morning. Really, the behaviour of young girls today is quite deplorable. I do despair sometimes.’

Now the Head continued: ‘I take a dim view of your conduct, young madam. My experience of girls who truant is that giving them a second chance merely delays the inevitable. My policy is always to send an official report to the Board of Governors, following which they would be bound by the school rules to issue an expulsion order!’ Emma nearly gasped out loud — EXPELLED! — just like one of those council estate girls. ‘It is doubly disappointing that a girl, whom one assumes from her record to be an exemplary pupil, should disprove that assumption in such a disgraceful manner and in front of a patron of the school trust. On reading this letter I was immediately resolved to follow the official procedure.’ Emma couldn’t believe it. ‘However, following much discussion, Mr Previtt, who I expected to be most aggrieved, pleaded your case in a most generous manner and persuaded me to reconsider. I am therefore minded that you may continue at the school following suitable punishment.’ Now Emma almost fainted with relief.

‘Under these exceptional circumstances I have decided that, since Mr Previtt is the one insulted by your behaviour, and yet has been most kind-hearted towards you, he should determine and administer an appropriate punishment.’

Oh God! Emma’s heart sank.

Mr Previtt gave her a smile, which now seemed a rather smug, unpleasant expression, looked over his glasses and began in his pompous monotone: ‘Ah! Anything to help the school, Headmaster. I do feel that on rare occasions, a sixth form girl might merit a second chance. One doesn’t like to tarnish the reputation of both the school and a promising pupil if it can be helped. Provided, of course, that the alternative does indeed have the required effect…’

Emma didn’t really take any of this in. She was thinking of Mr Pervert, who liked looking at girls’ knickers. A terrible thought was now in her head. Because of what Julia Warrender had said. That thing they all said was made up: ‘Given half a chance, he’ll have your knickers off…’ But surely that couldn’t happen…

As Emma began sweating with fear Mr Previtt’s little speech was reaching its conclusion ‘… a return to old fashioned standards and particularly old fashioned methods. How old are you?’ he asked sharply.

Startled, she stammered out ‘Se…sev…enteen.’

‘Seventeen years is ample time to learn right from wrong. In order that you realise that wasted opportunity I am going to give you seventeen strokes of the cane.’ Emma didn’t believe she had heard right. He couldn’t have said it.

‘From what one can tell, thus far, you have not felt any shame for your behaviour and that is something that you most definitely need to experience as a salutary lesson. You will therefore remove your skirt and take your knickers down to receive the caning!’

Emma was utterly stunned. It was a nightmare.

It took some minutes, but eventually, Emma began the awful process, aware of the terrible embarrassment she was about to experience. She felt the tingly feeling, down there. She took her skirt off then slowly slid down the dark maroon knickers. The two men gulped in surprise, hardly believing what they saw. Emma imagined her private parts were bulging out, growing larger by the moment. Her face was deep red with embarrassment. She made to cover herself as best she could with her hands and arms. But that wasn’t tolerated.

‘Face this way, young lady. Hands by your sides’ Mr Previtt barked. She looked up momentarily and her eyes met his. Mr Previtt smiled at her with a horrible gloating look on his face. Then his eyes went down. It was just the worst thing ever. He made her stand like that for what seemed ages. He made no pretence at all, staring right between her thighs.

‘Now, you are to bend over and touch your toes.’ He looked snobbishly over his glasses and pointed down at the carpet. ‘If you please.’

In a trance she found she was complying. She stretched down, just managing to get the tips of her fingers to contact her school shoes, she imagined Mr Pervert having a good look, getting turned on… yuck! But her thoughts were removed when the first stroke bit into her. She felt the pressure on her buttocks and for a moment there was nothing, but then a burning knife of pain cut into her. ‘Hhaa!’ The shock took her breath away. It was pain far worse than she had imagined in her life. After four strokes she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Not just from the sheer pain, but also the unfairness of it. Mr Previtt was deliberately hurting her when she hadn’t really done anything. The next stroke was even worse. Delivered right in the crease between thigh and buttocks it made Emma really gasp ‘Aaahh… Oww.’ Now she couldn’t stop herself crying and tears fell onto the carpet, soaking into the faded pattern. It was as much as she could do to stop herself sobbing out loud as the strokes continued. After several more strokes, the caning paused. Emma could hear Mr Previtt breathing heavily from his exertions. Had it finished? — she had lost count. Her question was swiftly answered as the cane was whipped in, harder than any before, right across the middle of her thighs. She squealed in agony, writhing her bottom and hips this way and that much to the enjoyment of the two watching men. Her thighs received two more of equal force before the ordeal was over.

‘Right, get up,’ Mr Previtt instructed.  ‘I trust you will think twice when the urge comes to truant or use uncouth language and lie?’ he queried. Emma hardly knew what he was asking, such was the burning heat in her bottom but she gave a half nod as she made out his questioning look through her tear-blurred vision.

The Headmaster now began talking. ‘Thank you, Mr Previtt. It is greatly embarrassing to me that you had to witness such disgraceful behaviour from one of the school’s senior girls. As ever, you have been most charitable to the school.’