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Assume the Position by Kenny Walters – Extended Preview

Assume the Position by Kenny Walters

The Head Girl’s Dilemma

“Jemma, can I have a word?”

“God, Ginnie! You made me jump!”

“Sorry, Jemma. Only I saw you were deep in your studies and I didn’t want to disturb you in the middle of a sentence or something.”

Resisting the urge to tell her best friend she hadn’t succeeded, Jemma Wharton closed the exercise book she had been copying copious notes into and sat back in her chair as Virginia Griffiths, her best friend and head girl of St. Mary’s, sat down beside her. It was gone five o’clock and the school library was otherwise deserted.

“I need you to be very honest with me, Jemma.”

“Right.” A combination of Virginia’s words and the anxious expression on the tall dark-haired girl’s face meant Jemma was pretty certain she knew what this was all about.

“Why is everyone being so ‘off’ with me?”


“Yes, everyone. Even the prefects. You’re a prefect, Jemma, surely they’ve been saying something?”

“Well, it might have something to do with a little unofficial outing you took last Wednesday evening.”

“That could have been school business, Jemma. I am head girl, after all.”

“Oh, really, Ginnie! And this alleged school business meant you were forced against your will to consume a goodly quantity of alcohol, did it? Such that you were struggling to climb the stairs without falling over. I think not!”

“Well, no, I admit I was a little naughty and went out to see Robert. I had to. He was talking about ending our relationship. But I was summonsed to Miss Clark’s office and given a good telling off. I thought everyone knew that.”

“But that’s the point, isn’t it, Ginnie? You got a good telling off. Anyone else would have come away from our beloved headmistress with an extremely sore bottom.”

“Well, what do they expect? She could hardly have caned me. I’m head girl, for heaven’s sake!”

“It still makes it one rule for you and another rule for everyone else, Ginnie. You must admit, they do have a point.”

“And that’s really what this is all about, is it?”

“That is what I’m led to believe, Ginnie. Yes.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! How small-minded can you get?” Virginia Griffiths got up and stormed out of the library.

“Bye, Ginnie,” Jemma Wharton called, after the door had slammed shut.

The following day, towards the end of the lunch break, Virginia called a meeting of the prefects in their common room. Nine of the school’s fifteen prefects turned up. Jemma Wharton, out of loyalty for her friend, was among them.

“I’ve called you here for this meeting because of the negative effect my little excursion last Wednesday evening appears to have had on the school. I’ve been giving the matter a great deal of thought and I can see how some might get the impression I was let off rather lightly.

“I would point out in my defence that Miss Clark, our headmistress, was extremely firm in the lecture she gave me and I was warned in the strongest terms possible about my future conduct. I think also you know that incident was totally out of character for me. I was extremely foolish and such an event will never happen again.

“However, I’ve been thinking what I can do to try to put things right with you and the rest of the girls. We all know there have been times in the past when someone has done something the others found highly objectionable and, well, a way was found to right the wrong. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

Virginia Griffiths looked around, expecting to see the small group of prefects grinning back at her as they relished previous acts of revenge taken against girls who had offended the unwritten code of conduct expected of all at St Mary’s. Virginia was disappointed. Everyone appeared uninterested apart from her friend, Jemma, who at least offered a weak sympathetic smile. Having started on this thread, though, Virginia felt she had to continue.

“Therefore, any time after eight o’clock this evening I shall be waiting in my room for anyone who cares to find me there and I shall be quite willing to submit to any humiliation you and the girls care to submit me to. You all know the form—cold bath, public stripping, whatever you want.

“You have my full permission to broadcast this to the entire school and to allow any of the girls from the most junior first formers upwards to witness my humiliation. Any questions?”

Virginia looked around. Still she was faced with apparent disinterest.

“Okay, thank you for your time,” Virginia concluded, then added with a smile, “I hope you won’t be too harsh with me.”

As the prefects got up and left, all rather quietly, and Virginia was left alone, the head girl felt confused, worried, and bewildered. Her offer to allow the girls their revenge had been a huge concession for Virginia to make, certainly not a proposition made without hours of deliberation, and yet the gleeful excitement Virginia had expected simply hadn’t materialised. Oh, well! At least, hopefully, the awful feelings of resentment she’d experienced against her over the past few days would end at eight o’clock this evening.

Just after four o’clock, Virginia met Jemma walking along the corridor.

“Any news, Jemma?”

“News, Ginnie? About what, in particular?”

“This evening, of course!”

“This evening?”

“Yes, this evening. You know, Jemma, like what they’re planning to do to me.”

“Oh, that. No, sorry Ginnie, I haven’t heard.”

The girls parted company, leaving Virginia wondering whether her friend really didn’t know what was being discussed or perhaps was keeping the plans secret, leaving Virginia to fret all the more on what was going to be done to her that evening.

Supper was at seven o’clock, as for any evening meal at St Mary’s, and Virginia found herself sitting alone. That had been the case for most meals since her fall from grace the previous week, except occasionally for the presence of Jemma who was at least still talking to her. Tonight, though, Jemma was enjoying the company of three of the other prefects.

“Probably putting together the final details of what they’re going to do to me this evening,” thought Virginia.

At seven-thirty, Virginia showered and dried herself on a large warm bath towel, then brushed out her long dark hair as she sat on the edge of her bed. When her hair was dry and finely brushed, Virginia secured it tightly back in a ponytail using a pale blue band she found on the top of her bedside cabinet. “I hope this will stop it getting too messed up,” she thought to herself.

Standing, the head girl selected brief black pants and bra from her chest of drawers and slipped the underwear on. A white tracksuit with a thick blue stripe running down the sides of the top and trousers was then taken from a lower drawer in the same chest. “It won’t matter too much if these get dirty or screwed up,” thought Virginia as she put the garments on.

After a brief check of her ensemble in the full-length mirror fronting her wardrobe, Virginia sat back down on the edge of her bed and waited. It was now ten minutes to eight, and she felt her heart beginning to beat a little faster as the tension increased. Perhaps, too, she was a little excited at finding out just what sort of torment the girls had devised for her.

At exactly eight o’clock, Virginia was feeling extremely apprehensive with just the thought that soon her ordeal and all the previous ill feeling would all be behind her. She listened intently for any sign of movement outside her room, but for the moment all was quiet.

Finally, at four minutes past eight, a single set of footsteps could be heard approaching Virginia’s room.

“Oh, God!” thought Virginia. “And why only one person? Perhaps they’ve sent someone to fetch me and take me along to wherever they’re going to deal with me. Yes, that must be it.”

Even though she was waiting for it, the tap on the door made Virginia jump.

“Come in,” Virginia called out. “I’m all ready for you.”

The door opened and Jemma entered the room.

“That’s nice of them,” Virginia said genuinely. “Sending a friendly face to take me to my humiliation.”

“Ah, well, I’m afraid it’s not quite like that, Ginnie,” Jemma replied.

“How do you mean?” Virginia frowned anxiously.

“There isn’t going to be any humiliation, not tonight anyway.”

“Why? What’s the problem?” Virginia sat down on the edge of her bed again, leaving the one chair for Jemma.

“Basically, there wasn’t much enthusiasm for your little plan, Ginnie,” Jemma explained as she moved the chair closer to Virginia and sat down herself.

“Why ever not?” Virginia exclaimed. “I’d have thought everyone would have loved seeing the head girl get humiliated.”

“Normally they would. But this isn’t really about an arrogant head girl being taken down a peg or two, is it? For a start, you’re not like that.”

“What is it about, then?”

“Justice, Ginnie.”


“Frankly, yes.” Jemma massaged Virginia’s knee to demonstrate her concern for her friend. “You know as well as I do that if any other girl in the school had been caught out of bounds or the worse for wear with alcohol, either of those offences would have got them caned. No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts,’ just an automatic caning.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Virginia said thoughtfully. “If there were extenuating circumstances, Miss Clark might have shown some leniency.”

“Miss Clark’s idea of leniency is to allow a girl to keep her knickers on, so long as they’re very thin and brief!” Jemma retorted. “Ginnie, suppose it had been me that did what you did. What do you think would have happened to me?”

“Miss Clark would have caned you,” Virginia admitted.

“And what would your attitude have been?”

“I’d have been sympathetic, of course.”

“But would you have tried to intervene? Would you have tried to persuade Miss Clark not to cane me?”

“Well, no,” Virginia had to confess. “Perhaps I might have suggested that as, like me, you’re eighteen now and maybe caning isn’t the most appropriate way of dealing with you.”

“And what good do you think that would have done?”

“Not a lot,” Virginia answered pensively.

“Right. Well, that’s why no one is queuing up to tug your clothes off and dunk you in a cold bath.”

“Were there really no takers at all?” Virginia asked, clearly greatly dejected. “Wasn’t there at least some discussion about it?”

“We talked about it,” Jemma admitted. “A couple thought about an extremely lengthy slippering across the vaulting horse in the gym, and someone suggested we strip you and leave you tied to the front gate for the night.”

“I’d have taken the slippering,” Virginia answered, picturing the scenes in her mind. “I’m not so sure about wanting to be left naked at the front gate all night for anyone passing by to see me.” She half smiled. “But for half an hour or so tied to one of the columns in the inner garden, maybe. That would have been okay.”

“Well, Ginnie, like I say, it’s not going to happen. No one is that interested.”

“Okay, I could only try,” the dejected head girl answered.

The following day, it soon became apparent Virginia’s efforts had not improved matters. Indeed, if anything, they were worse. The head girl called another lunchtime meeting in the prefects’ common room. It was slightly better attended with eleven prefects present.

“As I guess most of you will know, my offer of an unofficial solution to the present difficulties was not taken up last night.” The attractive tall dark-haired girl looked around. Most looked disinterested, a couple of expressions verged almost on the point of contempt. She continued.

“It goes without saying that I’m disappointed. We have a tradition of sorting out these sorts of things amongst ourselves. So, you leave me no choice. I have requested a meeting with Miss Clark, our headmistress, this evening. That meeting will take place at five o’clock.”

A couple of the prefects, including Jemma Wharton, were visibly surprised, even a little worried. Whilst there was a great deal of unhappiness with Virginia’s conduct, no one wanted her to resign—if that is what she intended.

“I shall ask Miss Clark to look again at my offences of absenting myself from school without permission and for returning to school in an inebriated state. I will also point out that a reprimand, however severe, is not sufficient for such offences and ask her to deal with me in such a manner as she would deal with any other girl. I think we all know what that means.”

A few raised eyebrows, one or two nodding of heads, led Virginia to believe she may at last have embarked on a course of action that would bring all the past ill feelings of the past few days to an end. She needed to make sure.

“It is also my intention to ask Miss Clark to deal with me especially severely in view of my position as head girl, someone who should have known far better than to have flouted the school rules in such a cavalier manner.

“I expect my caning to take somewhere around twenty minutes in all to be administered. Therefore I would like to think all the prefects, in turn, have the good grace to meet me here immediately afterwards to shake my hand and bring this matter to a conclusion. Is there anyone who feels they could do not do that?”

Looking around, more nods and a seemingly accepting mood suggested the head girl had finally found approval.

“Please make sure those who are not here are aware of what is going to happen.” Virginia concluded the meeting.

When Virginia heard a gentle tapping on her door, the time was twenty to five and she was standing in just her underwear, brief white knickers and a matching bra.

“Come in.”

“Thought I’d come and offer moral support.”

“Thanks, Jemma. Much appreciated.”

“Going for the formal look, are we?” Jemma remarked on the dark charcoal grey striped trousers and jacket laying on Virginia’s bed.

“I thought it appropriate. Do you think a white blouse would be overdoing it? I could wear the purple.” Virginia pulled a couple of blouses still on their hangers from her wardrobe.

“No, white is good. More suited to the occasion, I’d say.”

“White it shall be then.” Virginia replaced the purple blouse and slipped the white one off the hanger.

“You haven’t had the cane before, have you, Ginnie?” Jemma frowned as she looked across at her friend.

“No, have you?”

“No. Ever had the slipper?”

“A couple of times, once in the first year and then again in the third year. Why?”

“Nothing.” Jemma chewed her fingernails. “Are you sure you want to do this, Ginnie?”

“I am if that will put an end to everyone’s hostility towards me.” Virginia had now slipped the white blouse on and was just finishing doing up the buttons. “I just hope it works. Have you heard anything? What are the others saying?”

“Oh, you’ve certainly convinced them of your remorse this time. No worries about that.”

“Well, that’s one good thing at least. I just hope I’m going to be able to sit down tomorrow.” Virginia pulled her trousers on and fastened the zip. “I’d have been pretty upset if I’d got a caning and they were all still acting the same towards me.”

“That won’t happen. I’ll see to that,” Jemma declared forcefully, as she helped Virginia on with the matching jacket.

“You are sure Miss Clark will cane you, aren’t you?” Jemma asked.

“Oh, God, she will, won’t she?” Virginia sounded horrified as a possible flaw was revealed in her scheme. “Yes, surely I can convince her, can’t I?”

“Let’s hope so, Ginnie.”

The two girls left the room together and Jemma escorted Virginia along the corridor as far as the stairs, where Virginia then continued on her own up to the third floor where Miss Clark’s study was situated. Meanwhile, Jemma went down the stairs to the prefects’ common room.

“Is she going?” someone asked, as Jemma entered.

“Yes, saw her going up the stairs myself.”

“I hope she doesn’t just get a token couple of taps,” another prefect spoke.

“From Miss Clark? You’re kidding!”

Soon the assembled prefects settled down to wait. At ten minutes past five, much sooner than anyone had imagined, footsteps were heard in the corridor outside.

“That’s quick!”

“Too quick!”

“She lost her nerve!”

“No, she didn’t!” Jemma responded, not at all certain she was correct.

Everyone held their breath as the door opened. Virginia entered the common room, hardly elated, but certainly not in the state they would have expected after punishment from Miss Clark. Virginia took several steps into the room and waited in silence, the door still open. After a few moments, Miss Clark followed and everyone got to their feet.

The silver-haired headmistress took several steps into the common room and looked soberly around, sternly surveying the group of prefects who in turn looked anxiously back at the headmistress. Any visitation by Miss Clark would have had the girls on edge; the sight of the slender cane held by their headmistress only served to heighten their unease.

“Be seated,” Miss Clark’s voice boomed.

Everyone, including Virginia Griffiths, sat down with just the odd scraping of a chair against the wood floor breaking the silence that pervaded since the arrival of the headmistress.

“Right! Is everyone here?” Miss Clark asked as she remained standing. “Yes, I think we’re all present and correct. Perhaps you could bring your chairs a little closer so I don’t have to shout.”

More scraping followed as the prefects grouped around their headmistress, although everyone made sure they kept a respectful distance.

“I understand some of you feel better suited to perform the role of headmistress of this school than myself. Is that correct?” Miss Clark’s face was austere and unsmiling, as it usually was.

All the prefects stared back blankly.

“Or perhaps you feel your judgment far exceeds my own feeble efforts. Is that the case?”

The headmistress was met with another round of blank expressions.

“Stunned silence, I see. Marvellous. As I believe you are aware, our head girl, Virginia Griffiths, has come to me asking that I cane her in order to correct the excessively lenient way I dealt with her recent transgressions. She feels, apparently, there is a consensus of opinion amongst all the girls that this was unfair. Is this true?”

Miss Clark waited for someone to speak. After some long silent moments, it became obvious she was waiting in vain.

“Come along, girls. You are the prefects of this school. If there is a problem, it is part of your duties to make me aware of it. Will no one speak?”

There was another long pause before Jemma Wharton spoke nervously. “I have heard suggestions there appeared to be one rule for the girls and another for the head girl. Yes, ma’am.”

“Has anyone else heard these allegations?”

“Yes, ma’am,” a number murmured.

“Perhaps even ‘one rule for the prefects and another for the head girl,’ would that be the case?” Miss Clark suggested, and Jemma was grateful the headmistress didn’t look specifically in her direction for a response.

“No answer,” Miss Clark commented to no one in particular. “I am sure you are all quite aware I am not accustomed to having my decisions questioned, nor, I would have thought, do I have a reputation for being unduly lenient. It therefore grieves me that Virginia felt the need to raise the matter with me at all.

“My immediate reaction was to impose some sanction on every girl in the school for having the temerity, even the impudence, to question my judgment.”

Miss Clark paused to gauge the reactions of the gathering of prefects. Most appeared appropriately stunned. The headmistress continued.

“However, after further discussion with Virginia, I have been persuaded there might be some merit in reviewing the matter. I shall therefore ask you, the prefects, to assist me in deciding the correct course of action for the good of the school as a whole.”

Had the headmistress not still been holding the cane in both hands, the group of girls might have more openly displayed their curiosity at this unexpected honour. Trepidation kept their thoughts well concealed.

“Is Virginia correct when she tells me there is still a mood of unfairness prevailing amongst the girls?”

Miss Clark looked around. No one spoke, just a few gentle shakes of the head suggested the consensus might be that there was.

“Come, girls! Will no one speak?”

Jemma looked around. None of the other prefects seemed inclined to voice an opinion, with several looking in her direction as though suggesting she might want to assume the role of spokesperson. This was not missed by Miss Clark.

“Jemma. It seems you have the popular vote.”

“Well, ma’am.” Jemma coughed to clear her throat. “I suppose several days have gone past and the subject is still being actively spoken about.”

“To the point where it is having a damaging effect on morale?”

“Possibly, ma’am. Yes,” Jemma answered.

Miss Clark nodded thoughtfully as she took her time considering the response.

“And you all feel that my caning Virginia would put an end to the talk and restore morale? Is that what you are telling me?”

Virginia hastily diverted her eyes to the floor. When she did risk a glance around to seek the reaction of the prefects, the head girl found they, too, had mostly opted for a study of the wooden floor. Just one or two looked out of the window or anywhere else they could think of, except in the direction of Miss Clark or, indeed, Virginia herself. Miss Clark was also quite alert to the prefects’ actions.

“Come along, girls. Will no one voice an opinion?”

Virginia looked towards the others. Everyone had found the floor, the window, a blank wall, anywhere was obviously preferable to looking Miss Clark or the head girl directly in the eye.

“If just one of you will have the courage to tell me directly that caning Virginia would be the most suitable course of action, then that is what shall happen. Please have only the good of the school in mind as you consider.”

Miss Clark awaited any response amid minor shuffling as the prefects deliberated and then hunted around their colleagues, everyone looking for someone else to speak.

Virginia Griffiths bit her lip anxiously. She knew that had it been down to a secret ballot, her fate would have been instantly sealed. As the seconds ticked by, it seemed increasingly likely that no one would speak and she would escape unscathed. The head girl certainly had no great desire to feel the might of Miss Clark’s cane, but neither did she much like the animosity that had been shown to her over the past few days. A thought crossed her mind that maybe she, herself, should be the one to speak. The option was suddenly removed.

“I think it might be for the best, ma’am. Yes.”

Everyone hurriedly searched the room to see who had condemned the head girl. The pronouncement, though, had been too short and too unexpected for them to accurately identify the speaker.

Miss Clark, facing the girls, was in a better position to identify the source.

“You think? It might? I feel we need something more concrete before I embark on such a serious course of action, don’t you?” As the headmistress spoke, so everyone strained forward in their seats in an endeavour to identify the girl who had voiced the thoughts of them all. Even Miss Clark was looking around. Perhaps she, too, was unsure of who actually had spoken, or maybe she thought someone else might be spurred on to add their opinion.

“Caning Virginia would be the best solution. Yes, ma’am.”

The voice was clearly the same that had spoken moments earlier. Now, there were no doubts as to who had actually sealed Virginia’s fate. It was Jemma.

“And is that the opinion of you all?”

A few faint murmurings accompanied by rather more silent nods left the headmistress in no doubts.

“Very well. I shall administer four strokes of the cane to Virginia for being out of bounds without permission.”

Miss Clark looked grimly down at the assembled girls while Virginia counted herself fortunate she was only to receive four strokes, and the other girls pondered on whether just four strokes was really what any other girl would have received. Just as they frowned displeasure on concluding it was insufficient, so Miss Clark continued.

“And another four for being present in school having consumed alcohol.”

The prefects’ demeanour changed instantly, only Jemma remaining with a worried expression as she considered the severe punishment her words had earned for her friend.

“Stand up, Virginia.” Miss Clark ordered, instantly awakening everyone from their thoughts. “Do you have anything to say?”

“No, ma’am,” Virginia answered, her mouth too dry to offer much else.

“Come forward and bring that chair with you, Virginia.”

Amidst a deathly hush, the head girl picked up the chair rather awkwardly and carried it with her until she stood directly before the headmistress.

“Put the chair down, Virginia.”

The tall, dark-haired girl was uncertain as to which way to position the chair, and eventually settled for placing it sideways on towards the audience behind her.

“No, please turn it so the back is towards the others, Virginia.”

Virginia made the adjustment, the chair scraping against the wooden floor.

“You’d better remove your jacket, Virginia.”

Every slight sound of material rubbing against material appeared quite deafening as Virginia slipped off her charcoal pinstripe jacket and stood clutching it to her chest, uncertain what to do with it.

“Perhaps someone could look after it for you,” Miss Clark suggested.

Virginia turned to face the others and took a couple of steps towards them, while Jemma got up and came to take the jacket. Jemma was clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable at having to face her friend after condemning her to the cane, and Virginia was too anxious to even contemplate offering a smile or maybe a couple of words to say that it was all right. Instead, Virginia returned to her position in front of the headmistress and to one side of the chair she had brought across with her.

“Position yourself ready to assume the position, Virginia.”

Virginia hesitated, not knowing quite what was meant of her, then swivelled to her right so she faced the side of the chair. She looked down at the seat, expecting that soon she would be lying across it. Miss Clark read her mind.

“I think you’re a little tall for that, Virginia. Stand behind the back of the chair, please.”

Virginia shuffled round, the back of the chair now brushing against the front of her charcoal pinstripe trousers, a little below the waist.

“Unfasten your trousers and push them down to your ankles, Virginia.”

Virginia set to unfastening the trousers with haste, having already anticipated the command. Within moments they were pushed down to cover her shiny black shoes, leaving the tail of her white blouse just managing to cover her knickers.

Miss Clark peered around.

“You’d better tuck your blouse up, Virginia. At the back, at least.”

Virginia made the necessary adjustment, exposing her firm round bottom clothed in her brief white panties to the gaze of the prefects sitting behind her.

“Bend over the back of the chair, Virginia.”

As Virginia leaned over the chair, pressing her head down and thrusting her bottom out quite deliberately to present herself well for the caning, she breathed a secret sigh of relief. Taking her pants down in the privacy of Miss Clark’s study was one thing, here in front of all the prefects was quite another.

“Ready.” The word was spoken as a warning, not a question. Virginia had heard and seen from the corner of her eye Miss Clark moving round to the side and a little behind her, now she felt the cane being laid carefully and gently across her panty-covered bottom.


In one swift movement, Miss Clark drew the cane back and sent it whooshing down until it cracked across Virginia’s waiting bottom. Virginia gasped as the pain seared across her backside and she gripped the chair a little tighter.


Just as the sting from the previous stroke was just beginning to subside, Miss Clark brought the cane rattling down again. It whipped into Virginia’s bottom with a fresh scorching sensation that made the girl’s eyes begin to water. Virginia knew Miss Clark’s canings were something to avoid and, with the tears beginning to flow after the second stroke, she was quickly realising why.


A gasp, louder than before, let everyone know Miss Clark was punishing Virginia with her customary vigour. They could see the red lines beginning to form across the entire width of the head girl’s firm round bottom, but that served only to heighten their concentration.



If Virginia’s little cry meant little to either Miss Clark or most of the prefects, the same was not so true for Jemma. Up until then, the friend was savouring the spectacle almost as much as anyone else, but now she felt the odd pang of guilt and questioned herself as to whether she might have done more to sort out the animosity shown towards Virginia.



The cry was longer, louder than before and the sore red tramlines displayed across the bare portions of Virginia’s bottom appeared more noticeable, not that anyone, Jemma included, gave any thought to suggesting some mercy might be shown the head girl.



A long, sharp intake of breath signified Virginia’s growing anguish as the cane rendered its punishment. A couple of creaks from chairs and the odd cough suggested the audience, too, were appreciating the strength of Miss Clark’s arm.


“Eeeeeeeeeeesshh!!” Virginia breathed out vocally, paused, then drew breath in with equal intensity. Jemma clenched one hand tightly in the other, knowing, at least from hearsay, Miss Clark had a habit of making the last stroke the most severe. She wondered whether Virginia had heard the same rumour; certainly there was no visible sign of the head girl bracing herself.



As Virginia arched her back and struggled to hold onto the chair, Jemma felt mainly glad her friend’s ordeal was over. Although the other prefects seemed to be relaxing slightly, signified by yet more creaking chairs but certainly not any talking in Miss Clark’s presence, Jemma felt an increase in tension. Now she would have to face Virginia, uncertain what the head girl’s reaction might be.

As Virginia eased herself tenderly up from her bending position over the back of the chair, Miss Clark turned to the audience of prefects.

“Right, now it’s your job to make sure this really is the end of the matter. I expect you to make sure that it is. You may tell the other girls what has happened, for I’m sure the rumours will get around quickly enough. If you find any girl not willing to let the matter rest, then please inform me and I will deal with them—firmly! Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all murmured, and the headmistress left the room.

Virginia, by now, was standing behind the chair gently massaging her sore bottom, but had left her trousers still around her ankles.

“I presume you all wish to inspect the evidence.” The head girl turned her head and smiled weakly.

A combination of Miss Clark no longer being present and the end of Virginia’s punishment meant the tension had noticeably eased, and the prefects soon gathered round and checked the angry red weals across the head girl’s bottom. Several girls soon complained they couldn’t see much with Virginia’s knickers still in place and they were voluntarily eased down. Only Jemma remained seated in her chair.

The comments made about Virginia’s bottom were remarkably few and mainly consisted of low whistling at the efficacy of the punishment. Within a couple of minutes the prefects, too, left the room, leaving Virginia and Jemma alone.

“Want to look?” Virginia offered before she pulled her knickers up.

“Not really,” Jemma replied, and remained seated.

“As you wish.” Virginia gently pulled her brief white panties back up and eased them carefully back into place. Dipping down, she pulled her trousers up and fastened them around her waist. As soon as the zip was fastened, Virginia turned and approached Jemma to retrieve her matching jacket.

“Thanks,” the head girl said as she took the proffered jacket.

“You okay?” Jemma enquired.

“I fancy I’ll be sleeping on my tummy tonight,” Virginia answered, as she replaced her jacket. “But otherwise okay, I think.”

“How was it?”

“Worse than I thought. That cane really cuts into your backside.”

“Yes, I noticed. Coffee?”

“Good idea.”

As they walked slowly along the corridor towards Jemma’s room, Virginia commented, “I thought they were very restrained.”


“The other prefects. I was expecting them to put me back over the chair and whip my pants down. It’s funny, it’s like the whole thing was being orchestrated by someone.”

“Orchestrated? Who by?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Nor I,” Jemma said, hoping Virginia didn’t notice her face becoming rather flushed.

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