The Head Girl 2 — A Suitable Case for Treatment

The concluding part of the photo-story, from Roué 41

THE STORY SO FAR…

Upon the retirement of the two spinster sisters who had held the posts of Headmistress and Deputy Head, the governors of Barningham High appointed one Daphne Hobbs as the school’s youngest ever Head. Bowing to financial pressure, it was decided that Miss Hobbs would be able to manage without the assistance of a deputy.

This, however, did not prove to be the case. The young woman discovered before very long that the running of an establishment catering for the educational needs of upwards of a hundred girls entailed a considerable workload. One of her duties — the disciplining of disobedient pupils — proved particularly arduous. In this direction Miss Hobbs hit upon the idea of seeking out the much needed assistance from within the ranks of the pupils; promoting a senior girl, Joanna Redstone, to the position of Head Girl. The chief duty of this Head Girl was to report any miscreants to Miss Hobbs and — if it was decided that the offence was not serious enough to warrant the woman’s personal attention — to carry out a comparatively mild, off-the-record  chastisement herself. Having received the governors’ go-ahead the system was introduced and appeared to be working rather well. But after some weeks the Headmistress became aware that a decreasing number of girls were being reported to her. It occurred to the woman that there was a possibility that Joanna was taking the law into her own hands; punishing wrong-doers without her consent. This proved most definitely to be the case when, having returned from a meeting earlier than expected and heading straight for her private rooms, Miss Hobbs happened upon her Head Girl chastising one of the other pupils.

Not only was this being done without her say so, but the venue being used for the purpose was strictly out of bounds. Also, Joanna was using a slipper — when a hand-spanking was the only punishment she was permitted to administer — and it was the girl’s bare bottom that was being attended to; again something the Head Girl was not at liberty to do.

Daphne Hobbs’ worst fears had been confirmed. Joanna Redstone, having been immediately relieved of her duties as Head Girl, was instructed to report to the woman’s study later that day. The punisher was about to be punished.

NOW READ ON…

In the doorway stood Miss Hobbs, a grim expression on her face. She eyed the defrocked Head Girl, Joanna Redstone, sternly then, closing the door behind her, ordered the girl to stand up. She approached Joanna with slow, deliberate strides, then sat herself down at her desk. A heavy silence hung in the air — a silence that was to be broken by the redoubtable Headmistress. With a barely discernible smile playing across her features, the smile of a hunter having netted her elusive quarry, she finally addressed the girl.

‘I trust, Joanna Redstone, that you are suitably disgusted with yourself and sorry for what you have done,’ the upward inflection in the statement begging an answer.

‘Yes Miss Hobbs. I’m so, so sorry, honest I am. I’ll never do it again, believe me,’ Joanna replied.

‘Oh, I believe you, young lady, because you won’t ever again have the opportunity. Remember, you are no longer Head Girl.’

Joanna bowed her head. She didn’t need reminding that she had lost her Head Girl status but hoped that Miss Hobbs might consider reappointing her; that the chastisement to follow could perhaps be her sole punishment. ‘Yes, Miss Hobbs,’ she whispered, ‘it’s just that…’

‘What, young lady?’

‘Well,’ the girl continued, ‘I… I was thinking that you might… might reconsider your decision.’

‘What do you mean, girl?’

‘Well, I know that I’ve been terribly bad… and that I deserve to be… to be… er… punished. But I thought that if you punished me I could perhaps… er… be allowed to have my job back.’ Joanna feared the impending ordeal greatly but the thought of no longer being the school’s Head Girl; being denied the privilege of spanking other girls’ bums and, more to the point, being in the position where her successor — whomsoever she might be — would be permitted to deal with her in the way she had so much enjoyed dealing with so many girls in the past… this held far more fears for Joanna than whatever the Headmistress might have in store for her.

There followed a lengthy pause. Miss Hobbs appeared to be considering the situation. ‘I’ll tell you what, Joanna Redstone,’ she said, ‘the punishment I intend to administer to you will be quite the most severe I have ever meted out. It will quite certainly be the most severe you have ever had to endure.’ She paused awhile, allowing herself a long, hard look at the girl’s face; letting her words sink in. If — and only if — you take your punishment as a young woman should, with no fuss, I will… shall we say… consider reconsidering. Understand?’

‘Oh, yes! Miss Hobbs,’ Joanna replied, her face lighting up, ‘I’ll take it well, Miss Hobbs, honest I will.’

‘That, young lady, is yet to be seen,’ the Headmistress said ominously.

Joanna looked into the young woman’s eyes. She so dearly wanted her job back but the tone of Miss Hobbs told her that it would not be easy to take her medicine without making a to-do about it. Keen and quite expert in punishing others, Joanna Redstone was something of a coward when it came to being on the receiving end. She had never been unfortunate enough to be chastised by this woman before, but had had no little experience of being on the wrong end of a hiding at the hands of the school’s previous Headmistress and her over-zealous deputy. With some frequency she had visited this very study to receive the ministrations of cane and strap, and was quite disgusted with herself at the ridiculous display she had put on. She wondered just how severe this whacking was to be.

Miss Hobbs had stood up and was rummaging around in a drawer. The familiar leather strap was produced — the very same strap that had thrashed down onto her palms and buttocks so many times in the past. Joanna eyed it with awe, but at the same time felt some relief that it was not to be the cane. The only question left unanswered now was: hands or bottom?

‘You will receive two strokes on the hand, young lady,’ Miss Hobbs announced.

‘Yes, Miss,’ Joanna intoned, failing miserably to hide her delight.

‘Just to start with,’ the woman stressed, a wry smile coming to her lips.

Somewhat perplexed at the Head’s last statement, Joanna was instructed to hold her right hand out at waist level.

She swallowed hard then complied with the order, her arm shaking. The strap was raised above its quivering target, a Swoosh was heard then… Splatt! — it landed on the outstretched palm. The girl’s immediate desire was to pull her arm in and press her smarting palm under her armpit. This, however, she decided against, strong that the need to soother her stinging hand was. Instead, she kept her arm more or less straight and eyed the strap on its way up in preparation for the final blow.

It sped down and an instant before it landed Joanna had an almost overpowering impulse to retract her smitten palm from the line of fire. Her cowardice, though, was defeated — much to the girl’s disbelief — and the doubled-over leather strap landed with a resounding Splatt!! on her twitching, burning palm. Joanna was also pleased with herself that she had taken both strokes without uttering a sound. She was doing well, but what else was to befall her?

The woman sat herself at her desk, ran the length of thick leather through her fingers, then returned the awesome implement to its drawer. Joanna stood, hands behind her, gently rubbing her smitten palm against the material of her skirt. This did nothing in the way of soothing the throbbing pain — indeed the coarse cotton seemed if anything to irritate her punished flesh further still. She awaited Miss Hobbs’ next instruction, wondering just what she had meant by the words, ‘Just to start with’. It had, she told herself, to be the cane — but where? With her right palm stinging as if it had been attacked by a swarm of wasps, she found herself hoping the Headmistress would choose to apply the next part of her correction on her bottom — utterly humiliating though it would be.

There was a timid knock on the study door, Miss Hobbs telling the visitor to enter. Joanna was more than a little put out to see that it was none other than Gail Trotter — the girl with whom she had been when the young Headmistress had chosen to make her most untimely return. Joanna was to be further disconcerted when she heard Miss Hobbs next statement.

‘Ah! Gail. Come in, girl — and shut the door behind you… Now, go and stand over there.’ She looked up at Joanna and smiled wryly. ‘You see, young lady,’ she informed the sixth-former, ‘I have decided that it would be only fair if Gail here were to witness the punishment you are about to receive… It would sort of help redress the balance. Gail has told me how you dealt with her. I have to say that if she had been reported to me for her act of wilful hooliganism,’ she said, casting a stern eye at the younger girl who, in turn, blushed and bowed her head, ‘I would have given her the cane. You, apparently, saw fit to spank her, then use a clothes brush and then a slipper. She, therefore, has been punished enough, but should — I think it is only fair — be given the opportunity to see what happens to a girl who takes it upon herself to commit such a terrible offence. It is only right, don’t you agree, Joanna?’

This, the girl thought, was just too much. Having to undergo a hiding just like the other girls was bad enough, but having to take her medicine in front of this girl was positively mortifying. However, keeping to her promise of making no fuss, she replied: ‘Yes, Miss Hobbs… If you say so, Miss Hobbs.’

‘I do say so, young lady. I do… Now, come here,’ she said, pointing to a spot on the carpet to her right. Joanna glanced at Gail. The only thing that went any way to placating her now was the thought of what, when reinstated as Head Girl, she would do to young Gail Trotter at the earliest possible opportunity. There had been no need for the little tomboy to spill all the beans as she had done, and Joanna promised herself that she would see to it that little Miss Trotter got what was coming to her. Her thoughts were interrupted by Miss Hobbs’ stern tones.

‘I said come here!’

Quickly Joanna obeyed the order. She stood to the woman’s right and watched as she shifted the position of her chair. It appeared that it was not as she had feared, to be the cane; that she was going to be put over Miss Hobbs’ knee.

In a strange way — although it would be infinitely more painful — she almost wished it would be a caning. An over-the-knee, nursery-type spanking would be too embarrassing for words, and in front of that girl, well, she could hardly think of it. It was plain that the Head had decided to make this punishment as humiliating as possible. First, by having Gail Trotter present, and second, by giving the horrid little girl a display of a senior girl being smacked like a naughty toddler.

‘Over my knee,’ came the Headmistress’s next order, ‘come on, young lady; I haven’t got all day!’

With great reluctance Joanna leaned forward and placed her body over the young woman’s lap, discovering that not only was this an embarrassing position but an acutely awkward one as well. Miss Hobbs was far from satisfied with the position Joanna had adopted and set about shifting the senior girl this way and that until her bottom was just where she required it to be.

Somewhat out of breath, she told the girl: ‘You are a big lump, Joanna Redstone. Now stop wriggling about. I am going to warm this large bottom of yours and I require no nonsense from you.’ So saying, she raised her right arm and landed a hard smack on the back of the girl’s school skirt. This sudden blow caused Joanna to yelp more in surprise than pain, and her hand went automatically behind her.

‘Remember what we agreed, young lady,’ Miss Hobbs told her, her hand in the air and about to descend again. It fell onto the cotton-covered haunches of the distraught Joanna — another squeal leaving her lips. This time, though, she managed to keep her hands from going to her assaulted rear; her palms resting flat on the carpet underneath her.

Joanna found that if she kept her eyes shut; if she tried to imagine that this wasn’t really happening to her and that nasty Gail Trotter wasn’t standing there inches away from her — if she managed all this, the ordeal wasn’t really all that bad. Coward though she was when it came to having her bottom dealt with, the smacks to the seat of her skirt were not what one would describe as particularly painful. It could, she told herself, be a lot worse.

Having assured herself of this, things in fact showed definite signs of getting worse. She felt Miss Hobbs’ hands at the hem of her skirt and in a flash the garment had been lifted clear of her bottom and lay on the small of her back. Joanna was mortified. A sixth-former — in front of a more junior girl — over the Head’s knee, and now with her knickers on display. It was all too much. She wanted the ground to swallow her up, but settled instead for closing her eyes tight and doing her utmost to imagine that this awful ordeal wasn’t really taking place.

Miss Hobbs eyed the bottom before her; ran her eyes over the ample buttocks encased so tightly in their white cotton knickers. She laid a hand on the centre of the target area and then ran it over the entire expanse of the sixth-former’s behind. Joanna fidgeted at this unexpected — and not unpleasant — contact.

‘You certainly have a fine and — might I suggest — eminently spankable bottom, Joanna Redstone. Of course,’ she continued, ‘you know all about girls’ bottoms, don’t you? You take great delight in smacking them, do you not? Well, let me tell you here and now, young lady, that I am going to take just as much pleasure in dealing with this one of yours.’

Miss Hobbs raised her right arm again and her hand sped down towards its target, landing with a loud, echoing report right in the centre of the girl’s bottom. Again the arm moved upwards, and again it swooped downwards to smack, this time, the right buttock. The next spank was administered to the opposite cheek, and then the woman worked her way down and across the knicker-clad backside, finishing with three extra-hard smacks to the lowest and chubbiest portion of this ‘eminently spankable’ rear.

‘Good,’ the Headmistress announced, ‘you took that well and may stand up now.’ Joanna awkwardly complied, only too delighted to reassume a position more befitting her age and status — for, having been told that she ‘took that well’, she was quite sure that her reinstatement as Head Girl was imminent. ‘As I said,’ Miss Hobbs continued, ‘that was by way of a warming-up of your fat bottom, young lady. Your main punishment is yet to come. I will permit you a moment’s respite then we will get down to business.’

Joanna eyed Miss Hobbs, then glanced over at Gail. Was this, she asked herself, really happening to her? And what did the woman mean by ‘main punishment’? These were questions which would be answered soon enough — too soon, in fact, for the girl’s liking…

Five minutes passed — seeming more like fifty-five to the woebegone Joanna. Miss Hobbs busied herself with some paperwork while Gail sat to the side of the woman’s desk. Joanna had politely passed up the Headmistress’s offer of a chair. Stuffing her papers into a drawer, Miss Hobbs strode over to a corner and produced from a cardboard cylinder the dreaded cane. It was obvious that Joanna was in for a dose of this implement, but it was still with a good deal of surprise that she viewed the crook-handled length of swishy bamboo.

The Head turned to face the girl, bending the cane between her hands then swishing it ominously through the air. She noticed Joanna wince as the Swoosh!! met her ears, and said: ‘Yes, young lady — it sounds horrible, doesn’t it?’ Again she ripped the air. Sswooshh!! ‘Imagine that on your plump young bottom, my girl.’

It was clear to both Joanna and Gail that the young woman was in no small measure delighting in this little session. She quite unashamedly wore a wicked grin on her face as her eyes went from the cane in her hands to the face of her victim. Like Joanna, in fact, Miss Hobbs was taking her time with this punishment; spacing the whole thing out so as to further cause the girl anxiety; making her wait, knees knocking, awaiting the inevitable but not certain just when the inevitable will come.

‘Been caned before, Joanna Redstone?’ the Headmistress enquired of the girl.

‘Y-Yes, Miss,’ came Joanna’s barely audible reply.

‘By my predecessor?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘And something tells me,’ the young woman went on, ‘that this would have happened on more than one occasion, yes?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘Hmmm. And what would you describe as a typical caning, given your experience of such a punishment?’

Here Joanna felt the need to choose her words with care. Miss Hobbs had told her that this would be the most severe whacking she’d ever had, so were she to tell the truth — that, on average, the canings comprised six of the best — it would cause the woman to give her more than that amount. There was also the occasion when — for smuggling a bottle of vodka into the school — she had received eight strokes. It would serve no useful purpose to mention that event, nor would she be doing herself any favours if she informed her that nine times out of ten these bottom-whackings were carried out on the bare. Taking all this into consideration, she gave the Head her reply.

‘I… I suppose about two or three, Miss.’

‘Hmmm. I see,’ Miss Hobbs said as she neared Joanna. ‘Get over the desk, young lady.’

Joanna obeyed, aware of what her short school skirt was displaying. The young Headmistress took up a position to the girl’s left, the cane in her right hand. She eyed the bare thighs on show and — at their apex — the tight white knickers, straining to contain Joanna’s well-developed buttocks.

‘And would these “two or three” strokes be given with your knickers up or down,’ Miss Hobbs fired her next question.

‘Oh, knickers up, Miss.’

With a flick of the tip of the cane, the Headmistress raised the back of the girl’s skirt, her left hand placing it out of the way on her back.

‘So,’ she continued, ‘am I to assume that the Punishment Book is incorrect? Am I to take it that, on average you received more like six?!’ — the final word being spat at the girl. ‘And what about a certain eight stroke thrashing for bringing alcoholic liquor into the school? Is that an incorrect entry also? And where it says, under the heading “Clothing worn (if any)”, the words “No clothing” — am I to assume that that is untrue as well? Well, young lady? Nothing to say for yourself? Dumb insolence I call that.’

Joanna, bent over the desk, knickers on show, was done for — hook, line and sinker. She had forgotten all about that Punishment Book. She was for it now, and no mistake.

‘I told you, young lady,’ Miss Hobbs said, ‘that you were to receive a severe punishment; the most severe you had ever undergone. After referring to the Punishment Book I decided to give you ten. However, since you chose to lie to me I will increase that to a round dozen.’

Joanna was incapable of any response other than a startled sharp intake of breath. Gail, too, was heard to utter a surprised emission. In a trice Joanna’s school pants had been taken down to around the tops of her thighs. Miss Hobbs viewed the bare bottom before her. Any marks which the earlier mildish spanking may have brought about had disappeared, leaving the schoolgirl buttocks virgin white and — the Headmistress mused — in a perfect condition for a more than thorough thrashing.

Daphne Hobbs considered herself to be something of an expert when it came to the bottoms of young ladies. She’d had a good deal of experience with this particular portion of a young female’s anatomy. It was partly due to her knowledge of and expertise in dealing with girls rear-ends that she had been offered the post here at Barningham High. Her two years as Deputy Head at a well-known girls’ boarding school had stood her in good stead.

There, under the auspices of a strict disciplinarian Headmistress, she had the task of administering punishments to a countless number of disobedient young ladies. It was there where she learned of the slipper, the strap and the cane; there where she had practical experience of employing those implements to, sometimes, as many as ten girls per day.

Bottoms — as any expert knows — come in all shapes and sizes; some slight and boyish, others full and well-developed, others chubby, plump or even downright fat. Joanna’s rear fell, she thought, into the full and well-developed bracket — not plump and not fat. As she had commented earlier, it was “eminently spankable” and would, she felt certain, prove to be eminently caneable as well.

She gave the twin mounds of quivering schoolgirl bottom-flesh a couple of preparatory taps and, prior to raising the cane into the air, said to the girl: ‘Twelve strokes, young lady… Twelve real stingers which you will feel for some time to come. Remember what I told you about taking your medicine well, Joanna Redstone? Yes?’

‘Yes, Miss,’ the miserable girl replied. ‘Good. Let us begin then. You are to count aloud each stroke after it has landed, understood, girl?’

‘Y-Yes, Miss.’

‘Very well. You are about to realise what happens to deceitful pupils in my school. You are about to feel the pain — the awful, searing pain — that results from such offences. You will take it well — or suffer the consequences.’

Up the cane went. Joanna looked over her left shoulder then shut her eyes. The rod sped down, cutting through the air with a sickening Swoosh! — and landing with a Thwack!

‘Ow!’ Joanna had forgotten just how terrible the cane was. It had been some months since her last experience of the implement. She waved her bum almost rudely, her hips swung from side to side. To her credit, she refrained from throwing an arm back to defend and rub her burning behind. There was quite a lengthy pause during which the pain from that first stroke surged throughout her entire body.

There was heard another Swoosh! as the cane whipped down again, then the Thwack! as it came into contact with Joanna’s naked posterior.

‘Arghh!’

‘Be quiet, girl!’ Miss Hobbs barked, well knowing that such an instruction would be impossible to comply with. ‘You have ten more to come. I suggest you calm yourself down and stop making so much fuss.’

Swoosh!… Thwack!

‘Oooch… Owch!’

Swoosh!… Thwack!

‘Arghh! Please, Miss… Please…’

Swoosh!… Thwack!

‘Owch!… No… no more, pleeease!’

‘I’m not even halfway through yet,’ the Headmistress announced — a statement which, along with the awful pain she was experiencing, caused Joanna to burst into a flood of tears.

Swoosh!… Thwack!

‘Ohh! Oh-Owch!!’

‘Right now, young lady,’ said Miss Hobbs, ‘we have reached the halfway point of your thrashing… Or should I say we would have done but for one thing. I told you to count aloud each stroke, and in your discomfort you have obviously forgotten my instruction. So, you will now get six light strokes and you will count every one of them.’

The woman held the cane a third of the way down its length and about nine inches from its target. Then she administered six sharp taps with the tip of the instrument — three to each cheek.

Thwick! ‘One’… Thwick! ‘T-Twoo!’… Thwick! ‘Th-reee!’… Thwick! ‘F-Four! Owch!’… Thwick! ‘F-Five! Oh! Oooh!’… Thwick! ‘Sssixx! Oh-oh-owch!’

Miss Hobbs stood back and viewed the punished hindquarters of the tearful girl. Six parallel tramlines were visible across the entire breadth of the twin mounds, and six shorter marks — three on each buttock — were now appearing.

‘We will now continue with the punishment proper,’ the Head announced, ‘and this time you will count out loud each of the six you have to come. Is that perfectly understood, young lady?’

‘Yes, Miss… But please, Miss — not so hard.’

‘You dare to tell me my job?! You will get them as hard as I choose… In fact, now that you have been impertinent enough to talk to me in such a cowardly manner, I shall make them harder than I had intended.’

‘Oh! Please, Miss Hobbs… Please don’t!’ Joanna begged.

‘Anymore of this,’ the young woman raged, ‘and I’ll give you extra strokes! Now get your big backside in its proper position!’

The girl shifted her feet slightly and went further over the hard-topped desk, her tummy and breasts being flattened by the unyielding support.

Swoosh!… Thwack!

‘Oh! No. I c-can’t… t-take anymore, Miss!’

‘Yes you can, Joanna Redstone … And yes you will. Now, back into position, girl!’

Joanna couldn’t help but watch as the cane sped downwards towards her naked, vulnerable cheeks. She was mesmerised by the blur the rod made. She then threw her head up as the seventh official stroke found its mark. Swoosh!… Thwack!!

‘Ooh Oh!’ she cried, remembering this time to call out the number of the stroke. ‘Sseven… Oooch!’ Swoosh!… Thwack! ‘Eight! Ow! Oh! Pleeease, Miss — no more. I’ve l-learned my lesson. Please!’

‘You have had your final warning, Joanna Redstone. Anymore pleadings and you will get extra. Now, straighten this backside of yours and prepare yourself for your next stroke. Come on, girl — I’ve spent more than enough time on you as it is. I can only hope that it proves to be time well-spent; and that you will not be back here for a repeat dose. That’s it, girl — hold that position. Four more to go.’

Swoosh!… Thwack!

‘Arghh!’ came Joanna’s response, followed by a whispered ‘N-Nine’ That stroke had landed high up on her bottom, just below the very top of the separating of her cheeks.

Swoosh… Thwack!

‘T-Ten! Ohh!’ — this one bisecting the burning buttocks an inch or so below its predecessor.

The wicked wand fell again. Swoosh!… Thwack!

‘Eleven!… Christ! I’m on fire… Pleeease, Miss…’

For the twelfth time the cane rose and fell — this time low down and on the fleshiest part of the proffered rear.

‘Tw-Twelve!’ Joanna practically shouted. ‘Oh! Oh! Ooooh!’

The girl rose stiffly from her bent-over position, her hands going straightaway to her throbbing buttocks and cupping them gently.

‘Right, my girl,’ Miss H intoned, ‘I did warn you but you chose to ignore my warning. The fuss you made after the penultimate stroke was a disgrace — apart from being blasphemous. You will therefore receive one extra stroke.’

‘No, Miss… I c-can’t, Miss,’ Joanna pleaded.

Ignoring this cowardly  display, the Headmistress took hold of the girl’s left arm and spun her round so that her bare bottom was facing Gail. She told Joanna to bend forward and put her hands on the front of her legs — and to be quick about it, adding: ‘One more, Joanna Redstone… And this one will be a sizzler, I can assure you.’

Joanna, having emitted a long, heartfelt sigh, bent over She placed her hands around the tops of her grey cotton knee-length socks. During the shifting of position her skirt had fallen back into place, and this was rectified by Miss Hobbs. She took hold of the hem of the garment and pushed it well clear of the girl’s bottom. She looked at the white knickers encircling the tops of her thighs. One side of this garment had ridden up quite appreciably, so she placed the fingers of one hand inside the pants at the centre of her buttocks and, with her hand gently brushing the girl at the apex of her thighs, dragged them down to slightly above Joanna’s knees.

The already well-thrashed schoolgirl bottom was now completely bare; totally at the mercy of the redoubtable Miss Hobbs and her trusty length of bamboo. And Joanna knew only too well that mercy was Something she had little chance of receiving.

She had to endure one last stroke — that is, the girl thought, as long as she didn’t emit any more protestations. Her whole body trembled as she awaited this final one. She had to use her perspiring hands to keep her knees from knocking.

There would be the initial searing pain, the flow of hurt that would engulf every part of her, then the dull throbbing. It would not in fact, take too long — and Joanna just wished that it could be got over with as soon as possible, while at the same time fearing greatly the final visitation of that horrid cane.

She felt the implement tap-tap on her quivering bottom. She was only seconds away. The cane was raised and Joanna’s ears were filled with the sound of the cane speeding through the air towards her nether regions. Swoosh!… Thwackkk!!!

The girl winced, emitted a series of Ow’s and Ouch’s, then her whole torso shot bolt-upright as the terrible agonising pain surged from her bottom right through her.

It had been by far and away the most severe of all strokes — far more severe than any she had ever received at any time in her young life. And it had landed across the base of both cheeks — an area of the backside that she well knew was particularly tender.

Joanna stood rubbing ever so gently her smitten bum-cheeks. It was over; at long, long last it was over. Though quite how long it would take before she could sit down in comfort.

Although the ordeal of the thrashing of her life was now behind her Joanna had yet another awful surprise just around the corner. Having pulled her knickers up ever so gingerly over her throbbing buttocks, Joanna let her skirt fall back into place. Her breathing slowed as she wiped her eyes on the cuffs of her school blouse — an act frowned upon by Miss Hobbs.

Little did Joanna Redstone know that Miss Daphne Hobbs, Barningham’s youngest ever Headmistress, had plans as regards who should be her next Head Girl — plans which did not in any way involve the former holder of that post.

A Head Girl, thought Miss Hobbs needed to be from the ranks of the senior pupils. And in any case it would serve Joanna right. The Head Girl was to be one Gail Trotter…