Double Exposure

A spot of poetry, from Roué 2, referenced by Uncle George in his comments on a Culver original.

A summer school-day, and it’s quarter past four,
Timid and pale, Rosie knocks on the door.

A familiar voice summons, she enters the room,
The sight of the cane sounds the loud knell of doom.

The lecture is brief, all heard before,
This isn’t the first time she’s been through that door.

The stern old Headmaster, wielding his cane,
Prevails upon pretty Miss Rosemary Payne

To lift up her skirt and reach down to the floor,
And to take down her navy blue knickers once more.

‘For the third time this month, mark you!’ says the Head,
‘And mark you I shall, as I’ve already said.’

‘I gave you fair warning, only last week,
And now I shall cane you for having the cheek

To ignore impositions, judiciously set,
It seems you must learn that you’re not teacher’s pet!’

Five hundred lines, which Alas! she’s forgotten,
And now she must bend for lines caned on her bottom.

She shuffles her feet, her plump buttocks nipping,
Huddled together in fear of the whipping,

Her tummy turns somersaults, knees all ashake,
Her buttocks squeeze tighter, her legs start to quake.

The gloating Headmaster, taking his time,
Prepares to enjoy this grim pantomime.

‘Keep your legs straight now! I don’t want them bending.’
Aiming point chosen, the cane swift descending,

Visits her bum with a sharp, springy Crack!
Bounces her cheeks, Rosie straightens her back.

She almost stands up, her face a painted mask,
Her pretty lips pouting — he takes her to task.

‘Down girl, your punishment’s not over yet!
You’re here for a caning, and that’s what you’ll get!’

Poor Rosie whimpers, then catches his eye,
Rubs once at her bum, and subsides with a sigh.

Then, her smooth skin mute pleading for the kiss of the cane,
The resolute Head firmly whacks her again.

The cane lands once more, Rosie stumbles and twitches,
Knees stretching her knickers and pulling the stitches.

Yet again, in an arc, with a crisp smacking sound,
The cane lands on her bum, Rosie wriggles around,

Her bright stripey bum-cheeks all pert, pink and sweet,
Desperately squirming, aflame with the heat,

Her legs start to buckle, she clutches her seat.
He canes her again and she jerks to her feet.

‘Down girl! Obey me! It’s not over yet,
And you richly deserve every one that you get!’

‘Oh sir, please have pity, I’m not really bad,
And my poor bum’s all sore from the wallops I’ve had!’

‘Bend down child, I tell you, you’ve got more to come,
Now hold up your skirt and stick out your bum!’

Her bottom aquiver, and crying with pain,
Rosie begs him for mercy — but he raises the cane

And whacks her again, her tight buttocks bobble,
She jolts a step forward, her bum-cheeks awobble.

Then he thrashes her soundly, her pants fall right down
And she blubbers for pity, a thin, plaintive sound.

Till down swoops the last stroke, quick and sharp on her thighs,
She yelps in her panic, tears bright in her eyes.

And at last it’s all over, he puts back the cane,
Rosie rubs at her cheeks, but the effort’s in vain.

Her sore bum still stings, and her knickers are torn,
Poor Rosie wishes she’d never been born.

She stands and she weeps as she dabs at her eyes,
And she clutches her bottom and fingers her thighs

And, unsympathetic, the Head sees her cry,
And his thoughts are betrayed by the look in his eye.

Until Rosie, her tears drying stains on her cheeks
Dares to let down her skirt and then nervously speaks.

‘Can I pull up my pants please?’ her voice filled with dread,
But the Head doesn’t answer, he’s thinking ahead.

There are others to come, there’s that girl in Form Four,
Who at this precise time should be outside the door.

And there’s Mandy, and Susan, and pretty Louise,
Who’ll be here for the first time, to be spanked on his knees,

And Sally, who’ll weep and cry ‘Oh Sir — please don’t!’
And there’s sweet little Mary McKenzie, who won’t,

For she’ll try to be brave, and she’ll lift up her skirt,
And she’ll pull down her knicks and pretend canes don’t hurt.

Silly girl, for she knows very well that her bum
Won’t agree, and that soon she’ll be crying for Mum!

And then there’s that naughty Joanne in 6B
‘Er — you’d best tell your Mum I’ll be late home for tea.’

‘Yes Daddy,’ says Rosie, ‘An’ — may I pull up my pants?’
He nods, rather vaguely, she mumbles her thanks.

He watches her stoop, her thighs young and slender,
The marks on her bum looking angry and tender.

And a cute curl of hair, quickly tucked out of sight,
Makes him eager again, makes him think of tonight.

Rosie knows him too well and she heads for the door,
If she doesn’t leave now she’s just asking for more.

And he knows that she knows, but time’s on his side,
She can only go home, and there’s nowhere to hide.

Her mother won’t care, she’ll be out for the night
Visiting sisters, he can time it just right.

Wait until bedtime, she’ll go and undress,
He’ll follow behind, find her room in a mess.

Then he’ll bring her downstairs, put her over the chair,
Just the tops of pyjamas, her bottom quite bare.

And he’ll strap her at leisure, make her wait for each one,
Then stand back and study the job the strap’s done,

Her hot little bottom all wriggles and jerks,
A naughty girl’s penance, a step-father’s perks.