A few days following her horrible ordeal at the hands of the Colonel, Anna found herself once again sitting squeezed behind one of the small desks in the same classroom. Somehow the cramped size of them just added to her sense of discomfort and humiliation as she forced her long thighs under the low desktop.
On this occasion however, the lesson was being taken by Jackie Frayn, the 18-year-old niece of the Governess. Anna’s heart was pounding. Mainly with hate. For a few brief moments she let her mind dwell on what she would like to do to the girl... then switched away. Such thoughts were too dangerous. Her hatred for this teenage bitch - who held temporary power over her - knew no bounds. But as always, there was nothing she could do about it. Or, rather, nothing she dare do about it!
Jackie Frayn looked round her classroom with complacent satisfaction. Before her, eight heads were bowed down. Black, brown, dark blonde, light blonde, even red. Her 'pupils', whose ages ranged from 20 to 35, were all dressed in schoolgirl uniforms - at least, a bizarre travesty of school uniform designed deliberately to degrade. And that afternoon they were doing long division sums. Twenty of them. The concentration and the silence was intense. The penalty of failure in this arithmetic exercise was known by all.
One stroke of the cane for every wrong answer and a period of detention for some.
This classroom regime was one of the integral parts of the discipline at Blackfriars Grange, one of half a dozen Senior Reform Schools throughout the United Kingdom. Others were planned over the next three years. The Reform School inmates, mature young women each of whom had been sentenced to a term of strict re-education for their crimes, were being treated as schoolgirls again.
"Five more minutes," announced the young warden complacently. She turned a page of the novel she was reading ... hearing a gasp or two of anguish form various members of her class. Some were very bad at arithmetic ...
A little thrill of pleasure went through Jackie. She loved her work. Being the niece of the Governess also gave her a special kind of authority. She was not simply another prison official; she was in charge of the 'educational' side of Blackfriars. Like her aunt, she adopted a Victorian style in dress, although her long gowns were rather more frilly and fanciful, as befitted a young woman. Her gown that day was of pale lilac with a white ruffed lace collar. Very fetching.
"Two more minutes," announced Jackie.
Again came that anguished murmuring ...
Yes, it was tough at Redesdale, thought Jackie. But then, it was supposed to be tough. The state decreed it so. Amelia Frane, her aunt, like all the other officials in the place, were only doing their duty. Carrying out policy laid down.
"Time's up. Bring up your exercise books."
Each woman stood up and extricated herself from the small desk at which she had to sit. Those with long legs had an uncomfortable time of it. In a tense silence they filed up and, in turn, placed their work on Jackie's desk. She looked at each pale, frightened face ... seeing the tension and the dread in uneasy eyes ... sensing which ones had made the biggest hash of the exercise. Well, she would soon know for sure.
The women returned to their places where they waited, still and silent, hands clasped on top of the head - the obligatory posture whilst an exercise was being marked. Many an eye flickered with anguish to the cane which hung on display behind Jackie Frayn. It had a hooked handle, was three feet long, slim and whippy, and highly polished, especially at the last twelve inches. This was because this 'business end', as it was sometimes referred to, had been lacquered to increase its hardness. And, thus, its efficiency. This lacquering had been the idea of the Governess, and had swiftly gained Ministry approval. It was with some pride and pleasure that the Governor had recently learnt that these lacquered canes were now used in all Senior Reform Schools.
Certainly, each woman in the classroom knew just how painful a full-blooded cut from such a cane was.
Jackie's blue pencil was busily at work. She worked from a crib, slashing through each incorrect answer and noting how many problems had not been solved. Then she sorted the pile of books into some order. Though she sometimes dealt with the women at random, it was more usually her policy to summon out first those who had done best. Thus, those who remained at their desk had to watch the preliminary punishments, all the time knowing that her punishment was bound to be worse! That indeed was a most salutary experience.
Jackie looked up and then slowly round the class. By then you could almost cut the tension with a knife.
"Some good efforts from a few," she announced, "but bad efforts from the majority. Some VERY bad efforts." Jackie could see many of them trembling. Lips being bitten. Tears already beginning to form in terrified, despairing eyes. Well, they were there to suffer ... and suffer they would!
"It seems to me," she continued, "That this class is particularly inept at this form of arithmetic. Very well. I intend to change that. We shall have more long division in future. Also, if there isn’t a rapid improvement, I shall increase the penalties. Two strokes instead of one for every error might make some of you wake your ideas up! And anyone making more than three errors will have a spell in Detention"
There was a low horrified gasp ... Detention was feared even more than the cane.
Then Jackie stood up and took down the cane. She flexed it and then ran her fingers almost lovingly along its smoothness. It was her favourite corrective instrument.
"Alice Williams!" she barked. "Come out here ... "
With something like relief, a tall young woman with red hair stood up. She had a willowy figure and rather small breasts.
"Not a bad effort. Just the one sum uncompleted."
It was no mean feat to have got nineteen of the sums correct! Jackie didn't pay compliments.
"I ... I'm sorry, Miss ... I didn't quite have ..."
"Silence, girl! Get over my desk."
Without demur or delay, Alice knelt on the trestle stool that ran along the front of Jackie's desk, her back to the class. Then she pulled down the absurd bloomer-style shorts and regulation knickers worn by all inmates. Her bottom was unmarked and the flesh exceedingly white, as it often is with redheads. Alice bent across the desk and clasped the back edge ... and Jackie, almost casually it seemed, measured the naked bottom before her.
Then the cane went up fast and high ... and came whistling down even faster.
It lashed across the waiting buttock cheeks ... instantly raising a vivid twin-tracked weal. Seeming all the more vivid on account of its extra-white background.
"Oww ... oww ... aaaahh ... ooowwww!" gasped Alice, red head jerking up and back, bottom squirming uncontrollably as it absorbed the excruciating pain. She managed, however, to maintain her grip on the desk edge.
Oh how thankful she was to be getting only one!
"Back to your place!"
Alice wriggled her knickers and shorts up, stood down and walked back to her desk. For her it was over. Just one burning weal to be endured. But when one had had a dozen or more ... sometimes many more ... to endure, that was really nothing.
"Deirdre Smith!"
A mousy-haired, rather plain woman came out to the front.
"Again ... not a bad effort. Two errors. Over you go, girl." Deirdre was a rather ungainly individual with a big bottom and thick thighs. That bottom was exposed to the class. Not very attractive, thought Jackie; on the other hand, it was a bottom made for corrective treatment. Plenty of flesh, Jackie liked that. The soft, rather loose whiteness quivered as she touched it lightly with the tip of the rod. She could see Deirdre's knuckles clenching white. The woman was a relative newcomer to Blackfriars.
As with Alice, the twin-tracked weal flamed instantly over both big buttock cheeks. But, unlike Alice, Deirdre lost her grip. As she uttered an agonised yelp, her arms were flung back and her hands clasped urgently to her jerking-juddering bottom.
"OOOWW ... OOOWW ... AAAAAGGGHHHH!" she cried, head thrown back.
"I've told you about that before," said Jackie acidly.
She was supposed to keep her grip and not interfere with the punishment as Deirdre had done - even if she were a newcomer and unused to withstanding pain. The penalty was that the girl got the stroke again.
Deirdre's hands unclamped form the weal encircling her bottom and gripped the edge of the desk again. Too late!
"Here it comes again, Deirdre," said Jackie.
Deirdre's bottom seemed to quiver all over in anticipatory dread.
Up went the cane ... down it came ...
"OOOWW ... AAAGGHH ... OWW ... OOOWW"
A second long weal over the madly juddering flesh and Deirdre jerked under the grip of the Monitors. But there was nothing she could do, except take whatever Jackie had to hand out. Luckily for her, on this occasion, it was but one more stroke.
She got it ...
Sssswwweeee ... ccrraacckkkk!
"AAAAGGHHH ... OOOWWWW ... AAAGGHHHHH!"
A third encircling weal striped the big bottom vividly. A bright red which purpled towards the end of the weal where the lacquered part of the cane bit more effectively.
Deirdre was sobbing, even though she had received only three cuts ... a potent sign of her lack of experience.
"Back to your place ..."
A struggle with the knickers and her baggy shorts, then Deirdre stepped down and went tearfully to her desk.
The next three punishments ranged from two to four strokes. All the girls, Jackie knew, were considerably more experienced than Deirdre.
One by one they were called out to the desk ... knelt and pulled down their shorts and knickers ... gripped the edge ... and got their stripes. But each girl was far tougher than Deirdre and all maintained their grip to the accompaniment of breathless gasps and whinnying yelps.
Jackie was warming up nicely, rather like a golfer hitting practise shots before the real thing. She was just in the mood to hand out this kind of mass caning ... which was becoming a pretty regular event in her class. They were coming at something like once a week now and, needless to say, were much dreaded. The long drawn-out aspect of them was a terrible thing to have to endure. To witness the torment of others while one waited one's turn. For the women who were left, it was worst of all, in every sense.
In her long, lilac-coloured dress, Jackie faced the class. She was a pretty young woman - but in a rather hard way. Especially hard were her dark brown eyes. And especially now, as they glinted round the classroom.
Oh how terrified of her they were!
And rightly so!
"That has disposed of those who made some effort to use their brains," she announced. "Now we come to a wider band of defaulters. Those who made between five and a dozen mistakes, or failed to finish problems. There are three of you ... a disgraceful performance," continued Jackie. "There is NO excuse for it. Long division is not difficult. It simply requires effort and application. Each of you will spend the rest of the week in Detention. As for the rest of you," Jackie tapped the cane in the palm of her hand, "I want you to remember my warning. If there is not a distinct improvement in the near future, any girl is likely to find herself getting TWICE the number of strokes!"
She consulted the books on her list.
"Melanie Perkins!"
An attractive young blonde girl rose from the back row and came forward, moving with a natural, seductive grace. Just 29, Melanie had served five months of a nine month sentence for having illegal sexual intercourse with three young men on different occasions (three months for each man she had taken!).
"Six errors, Melanie," said Jackie, smiling at her.
The pretty blonde bit a fulsome, pink lower lip. She knew only too well what fate awaited her, having been in Detention before.
“Next, Catherine Green…”
Catherine had so far managed to avoid Detention but she was nevertheless aware of what others had had to endure there. Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she slowly made her way to the front of the classroom.
Anna waited for her name to be called out. She knew, almost certainly, that she had not got many right. Her brain, never too good when it came to arithmetic, had seemed like putty that afternoon.
“… and Anna Dobson!”
Nervously, Anna extricated herself from the small desk at which she had been sitting at and joined the other two women at the front, each of them pale and fearful ...
“Right, you three. Report to Matron upstairs for Detention.” Jackie dismissed them with a wave of the hand towards the door. “Be quick about it... and no talking.”
Dejectedly, the three women made their way up the long staircase to the top floor in silence, broken only by Melanie muttering under her breath: “It’s so fucking unfair. Just for getting a couple of sums wrong”.
Anna sighed miserably in agreement. There seemed no end to their wretchedness in this awful place.
