Cane and Consequence (Part 2 of 4)


cane and consequence

Our story began here.

Melanie had given up trying to hold back the tears. There wasn’t the slightest chance that anyone seeing her walking back to her room wouldn’t know she had just been thoroughly thrashed in any case. Her hands hovered permanently over her behind, which managed to at the same time throb with aching lines of dull pain and be raspingly sore. Her footsteps were slow and awkward and to relieve the point where her two swollen buttocks met she had to keep her legs apart as much as possible to avoid chafing.

Sitting down wasn’t going to happen for the rest of the day and for a few days to come she would have a choice of either taking a pillow to the refractory or standing up to eat; both options being too embarrassing to contemplate.

As she turned the corner she took a quick look about her before attempting a quick massage of her bottom. She immediately winced as she hefted both her hams through her skirt but strangely the pain was addictive and she persisted with the surreptitious rubbing for a moment longer.

Then she saw someone coming and tried to appear casual.

The intruder was a new face at Hardham and for a moment Melanie forgot her troubles. The newcomer was a pretty girl in her early middle 20s, with something of a snotty look. That won’t last, Melanie thought with a snort.

As the new girl got nearer, Melanie could see that the she was shorter than she first appeared, almost like a scaled-down dinky version of a leggy supermodel. The girl’s head was bowed and she didn’t bother to look up as she passed.


Catherine barely noticed the tearful girl at the corner of the yard. Although she did spare a glance for the imposing main building where she knew most of the courses and all of the administration was carried out. She wanted to hate it and re-imagined it as a Colditz-like place. However, the warm red brick edged in stone was rather beautiful and it put her in mind of one of those stately homes her parents used to take her to.

It was so unfair, she raged inwardly, she wasn’t a criminal, she didn’t deserve to be in gaol; not even a posh one run along the lines of mid-20th century public school. So lost in her self-pity she almost didn’t register the bell; a short sharp two toned clang that she only caught on the second ring.

She racked her brains for a clue to the meaning of the sound, sudden apprehensive despite herself that she had overlooked some petty rule.

“Can’t be a fire drill,” she murmured, “Not with just two rings.”

She looked back the girl she had seen who appeared to be limping so had got so far and hastened after her.

“Hey you, I say,” Catherine called out, “What the devil is the bell for?”

Melanie cringed at the other girl’s clipped glass tones, even subdued and muted, they screamed superiority. She hurried on.

“I am addressing you,” Catherine persisted, “What does that bell mean? Are we supposed to be somewhere?”

Melanie rolled her eyes up and turned around.

“Oh,” Catherine was thrown by the young woman’s obvious tears. “Are you alright?”

“What? Oh yes, sure. I have just paid a social call on Mr Alexander,” Melanie said ruefully.

Catherine returned a blank stare and slowly shook her head.

Melanie frowned, she hated new girls. This was so embarrassing.

“I made a muck of things in the laundry,” Melanie said, as if that explained everything.

“Surely they will understand, I mean it isn’t something to cry about surely,” Catherine said brightly.

Why she should offer comfort to a laundry girl Catherine couldn’t quite fathom, but maybe it was because she was the first person who had not either given her an order or looked down on her since she arrived.

“Oh Ms Barry understood alright, that is why she sent me to see Alexander,” Melanie said and looked askance.

“Oh? … Oh,” Catherine said, the penny suddenly very much dropping. “You mean he…?”

“Eighteen bitey-witey little swipes you know where,” Melanie said chewing her lower lip and again clutching at her behind.

“Eighteen, but surely that’s…?” Catherine gaped.

“Oh sure, it took some doing, but I have been running up a decent bill for weeks now. I can’t wait for Christmas I can tell you.” Melanie felt another stray tear roll down her cheek, but suddenly she felt okay talking to the new girl. “Name’s Melanie Quaid.”

“Catherine Overton, how do you do,” Catherine offered her hand.

“Oh… eh,” Melanie stared at it and then after a pause shook it. Just like the movies, she thought.

“Christmas? What has that got to do with anything?” Catherine continued with the previous topic.

“You know, the amnesty. Actually I was thinking of opening up a book. What are the odds do you think of not topping 24 before Christmas Eve?”

“A book?” Catherine was genuinely puzzled. “And what amnesty? An amnesty for what?”

“You know, a tote, making bets on my chances of racking up another two or three sessions with Mr Alexander before Christmas,” Melanie explained.

“Oh I see,” Catherine said, although she wasn’t sure she did. “Like the horses.”

Melanie grinned. She felt better already.

“And this amnesty…?”

“You are new here aren’t you?”

“I came last night,” Catherine explained.

Then the bell rang again.

“What was that?” Catherine asked nervously.

“Beginning of lesson, for those doing courses,” Melanie shrugged, “Last one of the day; I didn’t have any. What are you going in for?”

“Oh I… I already have a degree,” Catherine explained.

“Oh you too, I have one in Sociology,” Melanie said brightly, “Sussex.”

“Really but I thought… you mentioned the laundry?”

“Part-time jobs, part-time courses, country walks, it’s all good here apart from the paddy whacking,” Melanie laughed. “That I don’t mind so much. You kind of get used to it. I am studying for my Master’s; criminology this time. I reckon I have a bit of an insight now.”

“I have a BA in fine arts,” Catherine said woodenly. Nothing here was what she expected.

“So about as useless as my first degree then,” Melanie laughed, “How long are you here?”

“A year I hope,” Catherine sighed.

“You can do a Master’s too then,” Melanie said, “Or maybe something vocational. We have a lot of plumbers here.”


Catherine couldn’t quite take it all in. After her meeting with Melanie she could almost convince herself that she was in college and not in a prison at all. The girl had been altogether a surprise. While she wasn’t exactly from Catherine’s class, she was clearly not quite the ignorant plebeian that she had expected to meet.

It had irked her a little that Melanie had compared her sociology degree with Catherine’s own in fine arts. However, the suggestion that she might get a master’s degree went some way to lifting the gloom that had assailed her since sentencing.

She could hear her friends now, “Where have you been? I heard you had been detained at Her Maj’s pleasure.”

Now she could reply, “Oh no, nothing like that. After that business with Rupert, Daddy thought it best if I went away to improve my education. I have a master’s now you know.”

It was beginning to sound so much better.

The more she thought about it the more she wanted to talk to Melanie again about her master’s degree. After all, she could hardly talk to one of the staff or that awful Barry woman; it would look too much like she was buckling under.

The knock at the door at that moment came as an intrusion. Catherine ignored it until whoever it was knocked again.

Sighing in irritation she finally said, “Come in.”

The door swept open and Jeanette Barry came in and closed the door behind her.

“How are we settling today?” she said with an air of expectation.

Catherine glowered at her but swallowed the urge to be sarcastic.

“Everything is fine,” she replied.

“Good.” Jeanette had a knowing smile.

As Catherine watched, Jeanette made a circuit of the room, picking up objects and testing for dust as she went.

“Tomorrow I will assign you your duties for next week and allocate you a place on the roster for the coming weeks. Also we need to talk about which courses you wish to pursue,” Jeanette said without looking up. “Meanwhile, you need to clean and tidy this room. Is that clear?”

Catherine bristled, she wasn’t a child.

“Is that clear?” Jeanette said again.

“Yes, perfectly,” Catherine replied tartly.

Jeanette studied the girl for a moment and then nodded.

“Good, I’ll drop by later to see that you have.”

Once Jeanette had gone Catherine hurled a book across the room and stamped her foot in frustration. Who does she think she is, Catherine thought bitterly? I haven’t had to clean my room since…

“Ooh,” she howled in frustration..

In a show of defiance she grabbed her jacket and decided to go and see Melanie. She would carve out her own path at Hardham and Melanie seemed just the girl to advise her.

There were only two halls of residence and the 30 or so names of the inmates were posted in the lobby on a single sheet of A4. There was only one Quaid and Catherine found her quickly at the building across the green.

The residence was much like her own and smelt of polish and lavender and the walls were half panelled in a light tan wood that matched the parquet floor. Tasteful prints of Constable and early Turner England hung on the walls and only the fire and smoke alarms gave any hint that the halls were of an institution.

Melanie’s room was on the first floor at the furthest end from the stairs. Her door had a picture of a puppy on it and a name plate onto which had been stencilled some impromptu roses. There was no bell, so Catherine knocked with her fist.

“If that’s you Jan, piss off,” Melanie’s voice rang out from inside.

Catherine frowned. “It’s… eh… Catherine,” she ventured, “We met yesterday.”

The door opened almost at once and Melanie peered around the door.

“Oh you, um,” Melanie stuck her head out and looked down the hall. Then she added, “You had better come in.”

As the door was pulled back Catherine could see that Melanie was dressed only in a T-shirt and short white socks. She was holding a pillow over her front for modesty’s sake, although she didn’t appear the least disconcerted that she was half naked.

“Is this an awkward time?” Catherine asked hesitantly.

“No you are alright,” Melanie said easily, “Tea?”

“Eh… no thanks I…”

Her words were cut short when Melanie threw herself face down on the bed and Catherine saw her bare bottom. Near perfect parallel plum lines scored the girls behind from the top of her cleft down to just above her thighs.

“Oh gosh,” Catherine gasped.

“Pretty ain’t they,” Melanie snorted, but she had the good grace to blush a little.

“Oh gosh,” Catherine said again, “You weren’t joking were you? I thought…”

Catherine didn’t know what she thought. Until this minute part of her hadn’t believed that women were actually caned at Hardham.

“It isn’t so bad. So long as I avoid hard chairs for a few days more,” Melanie said ruefully, “I have had worse.”

After that all thoughts of courses and recreational activities at Hardham dropped off of Catherine’s agenda and she pumped Melanie for accounts of her punishments. In fact she was still gaping in fascinated horror half an hour later when she remembered that she was supposed to be tidying her room.

Suddenly the threats and promises Jeanette Barry had made seemed more real and any doubts about the Hardham regime were dispelled with one look at Melanie’s welted bottom.

“I had better eh,” Catherine gulped, “Go.”

“Sure,” Melanie beamed, “Next time we’ll have tea and you can do the talking.”

Catherine nodded uncertainly and made to leave.

“Bye,” Melanie said without moving off her bed.

“Yes, good bye,” Catherine said hastily.


Jeanette was just coming out of Catherine’s room as she arrived.

“Miss Overton, there you are,” Jeanette said sharply.

“Ms Barry, I…” Catherine felt the blood drain from her face.

“It seems that not only can you not obey simple instructions, but that you do not take me very seriously Miss Overton,” Jeanette cut her off. “Did I, or did I not tell you to clean and tidy your room?”

“I… I just popped out, I had to…”

“You had to do exactly as you were told,” Jeanette scolded. “Come here.”

Catherine felt her mouth go dry, but was unable to examine the reason for her discomfort too closely. Her stomach did a flip and somewhere in her head a vein gently throbbed. There was something about the set of Jeanette’s shoulders as she went back into Catherine’s room that suggested gravity and for a moment the world went into slow motion.

It felt as if someone else followed the house mother as Catherine went in to the room after Jeanette. As she did so, she saw that Jeanette had taken something from the back of the door. Seeing the paddle in her the house mother’s hand was a shock but not a surprise.

“What… why… eh… what’s that for?” Catherine asked, blustering.

“You know exactly what it is and what it is for,” Jeanette said, “It was explained at your induction. It was made clear to you when you signed the papers before sentencing.”

“But I…”

“Remove your skirt, take down your under things and kneel upon the bed with your head down facing the wall and your bottom up at this end,” Jeanette said brusquely pointing to the foot of the bed with the paddle. “It is high time we christened this.”

“Look, this is absurd, I only…”

“Do as you are told and at once,” Jeanette barked.

Catherine’s hands fluttered at her waist and taking half a step backwards she felt a little faint. Then she straightened up and put on her best confrontational face.

“I only went…” she began.

Jeanette didn’t hesitate but extended one arm and seized Catherine by hers. A moment later she was sitting on the bed with Catherine across her lap.

“What are you doing? Don’t… I mean…”

Jeanette flipped Catherine’s skirt up and in one smooth motion drew her knickers down her thighs to her ankles.

Catherine gasped and wriggled a little in shock.

“Whaa…” she exclaimed.

Hefting the paddle Jeanette patted Catherine’s now exposed bottom with it and shifted a little where she sat to adjust the girl’s weight.

“Three options,” Jeanette growled, “Take what is coming to you and that is more than you bargained for now you have added further disobedience to your crimes. Refuse and come with me to see Mr Alexander here and now; or demand an R386 form and request a transfer. Choose.”

“Ms Barry, this stupid can’t we talk about this?” Catherine spluttered.

“Choose,” Jeanette said crisply.

“Look I’m sorry okay,” Catherine wailed.

“Option one then,” Jeanette rasped.

Catherine gave a small nod; she was too mortified to speak.

The paddle blasted down and robbed her of all breath, but before she could regain it Jeanette spanked her again and then again twice more.

“Ahh, nuggh,” Catherine groaned.

She could not believe the sting in her behind.

“When I am done with you, you will go and stand facing the wall outside your room until I send someone to release you. Do you hear me?” Jeanette punctuated almost every word with a slam of the paddle onto Catherine’s bare bottom.

“Yes, Catherine wailed.

Jeanette spanked the girl three more times until she shook with giggle-like sounds that ended in sobs.

“Do you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Catherine yelped.

The crisp thwack of the paddle fell a dozen more times until Catherine broke to genuine sobs.

“Once released you will tidy your room and then return to face the wall once it is done,” Jeanette explained.

“Yes Ma’am,” Catherine sobbed.

“You will remove your skirt and under things as I told you to and you will stand outside and when told to, work without them. Do you understand?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Catherine said miserably.

“Later I will return and inspect your room again. If it meets my satisfaction then you will submit to the punishment you have already earned. Do you understand?”

“What… but…”

The paddle descended thrice more, extracting heavy wails.

“Yes Ma’am,” Catherine hissed as she shimmied her bottom in a hopeless attempt to shake out the sting.

“Good girl,” Jeanette said, allowing Catherine to fall to her knees. “Now let me see what you have learned.”

Catherine couldn’t meet Jeanette’s eyes and bowed her head as she knelt crying.

Jeanette was patient and looked down kindly, still holding the paddle. Then finally, still without meeting the house mother’s gaze, Catherine got to her feet and undid her skirt to remove it. Her knickers were already at her ankles and the spanked girl stepped out of them with a blush. Then as Jeanette watched, Catherine walked woodenly to the door and went out naked below the waist into to the hall.

She is a natural; Jeanette observed when she saw Catherine standing at attention with her nose pressed to the wall. The house mother paused to study the girl’s bright red domed bottom so stark in profile and then she nodded in satisfaction.

“Every so often a girl thinks she can slink back into her room and I won’t find out,” Jeanette said in a soft voice. “I always do. But I wonder if you believe me.”

Her voice cracking, Catherine said, “Please, this is so embarrassing.”

“I know. But it was your choice wasn’t it?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Catherine wailed pressing her face into the wall and wishing she could merge with it and disappear.

“Why do all you girls need to learn the hard way?” Jeanette sighed as she walked away.

To be continued.

4 Responses to “Cane and Consequence (Part 2 of 4)”

  1. 1 paul1510

    I mostly like your stories, I certainly approve of M/s Barry. 😀

  2. 2 Mark

    “Why do all you girls need to learn the hard way?”

    Great question. The answer varies of course from woman to woman, but it is always interesting and important to know. Fun too!

  3. 3 Kia

    Where would the fun be in learning the easy way?

    Am I mistaken, or did this story grow an extra part? 😉

  4. 4 Raffe

    Learning the hard way and pushing the envelope, beging young and stupid, go hand in hand.

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