Cathy’s smooth white bottom was mooning up over the back of the chair and as tight and well presented as any disciplinarian could wish. She was bent double and so low to the floor that her paper white short and rather thin hair was brushing the carpet.

Braden stood over her now with a medium heavy tan-coloured cane making a show of being totally unmoved, as Cathy was. But surely at 22 she was far too old to be treated so especially so casually. At least that was Martine’s view.

“Mr Braden,” she began, swallowing back the view and trying to focus on the matter at hand. Although, she supposed, Cathy’s bare bottom was very much the matter and very much on hand. “Mr Braden, I know Cathy’s behaviour was… is unacceptable but you can’t just… well, don’t you think she is too old for a spanking?”

“Oh?” he said imperiously. His arm was stopped mid-air and he lowered it as if considering new data. “You think so?”

“Yes, yes I do,” Martine said confidentially.

She may only be a few years older than Cathy and she may not have been there long but she was determined to make a stand. Braden seemed to think so too, she decided, for he had stepped back now and was regarding Martine very seriously. At six feet two he was imposing enough and for him to take note was a bit of a coup, Martine decided.

“Why?” Braden asked. He was frowning now and while he waited for Martine’s reply he sucked on the inside of his cheek.

“Well… I-I would have thought that was obvious, I mean to say…” Martine was rather dumbfounded by the question. “In this day and age…” she continued.

“It’s Thursday, what of it? If a young woman is needful then any day of the week is suitable,” Braden said without a hint of irony.

Martine tugged at a black hair that threatened to stray across her face and finally realising it had a mind of its own blew on it in frustration as if that might shift it.

“Mr Braden, you know perfectly well what I mean,” she chided him.

“No Martine, I really don’t,” he frowned, “Cathy has a punishment coming and I see no reason why you should prolong it with uninformed chatter.”

“Yes Martine, give it up,” Cathy said miserably from somewhere just above the carpet, “Go away.”

Martine looked frantically from the bottom to Braden and blustered for a moment.

“But… but, it wasn’t even her fault,” Martine said anxiously, “I mean if I hadn’t… well I am in charge and… and… Mr Braden come on, this just isn’t fair.”

“Cathy,” Braden said sharply to the bottom, “Am I being unfair?”

“No Sir,” Cathy said earnestly.

“So if there is nothing else…” Braden said impatiently.

Martine let her mouth hang open for a second and the closed it. She was about to go and then thought of something.

“Look Mr Braden, you can’t just go around caning girls because…”

“Yes?” he barked.

“Well you can’t. I told you, Cathy is my responsibility and I can’t allow…”

Braden gave her a hard look and turned on his heel. Then as if by showing through action what his words could not convince her of, he lashed the cane down angrily with a sharp crack. Cathy squealed.

Martine could only gape as a thin red line developed on Kathy’s otherwise unmarked bottom. Then she marvelled as another stroke dashed a white on pale line just under the first stroke. This too soon reddened.

Cathy squirmed a bit and she had gasped at both impacts, but apart from some laboured breathing she gave no sign of resistance. Nor did she for the next six that followed.

“How many did I promise you?” Braden asked casually.

“A dozen Sir,” Kathy replied, her voice sounding wet now.

Braden obliged with four more and then told the girl to rise.

“Thank you Sir,” she sniffed as she extended her hand.

Braden shook it and smiled.

“Alright you can go,” he said.

Kathy returned a tight smile of her own as she hauled up her knickers and let her short skirt fall to cover her. Then she left.

“Now Martine,” Braden sighed, “Did I understand you to say that all of this was your fault?”

Martine blanched and half turned to look towards the door.

“I… that is…” she muttered.

“Alright, let’s get you over, Cathy took 12 so I suppose you can handle the same,” Braden said wearily.

“Mr Braden I…” Martine remonstrated.

“Martine, bend over now,” Braden barked.

Martine was still denying him in her mind when the first stroke cut the air and very shortly after her bottom. By then of course her behind was bare and presenting itself to the ceiling.

“Ahhh,” she yelped as the sting tore home.

“I think you can count them Martine,” Braden said sternly.

No way, Martine thought, in fact what am I doing…? The second stroke seared through her thoughts and she yelled out again.

“Two, two Sir,” she blubbed eagerly.

“Too late,” he snapped, “We’ll call that one if you’re quick enough,” Braden told her.

“But…” Martine countered.

The third landed with a will and Martine’s shrill hurt both their ears.

“Three… I mean two… I mean…” she blustered.

Braden caned again hard.

“One, Martine, that is one,” he told her firmly.

“One Sir, yes Sir,” she sobbed.

This time she declared the next as two in good time.