Stood outside my door waiting, hands on your head and trousers at your knees, the sound of my heels clicking on the wooden floor of my office fills you with dread. You know what a stickler for discipline I am and you are in no hurry to be stood before me. You jump when the door opens sharply and I order you into my office. standing before me, hands still on your head, you begin to tremble as my stare seems to penetrate right through you.
I order you to come closer, my face showing mild disdain as you shuffle towards me. You cast your eyes to the floor but I insist you look right at me and explain to me exactly what on earth you thought you were doing. It is bad enough that you missed class but to be brought back to the school by the police quite clearly intoxicated is reprehensible. You have dragged the reputation of my school through the mud.
I order you to sit on the punishment stool and write 20 lines. You gingerly sit down and quickly realise why this particular stool has gained its name. It digs into your bottom, making it very difficult for you to concentrate on the task. By the time you are finished and I have you stand up your bottom feels rather tender.
I drag you by the ear and haul you across my lap for one hell of a spanking. Each smack seems to be harder than the last and there is no let-up despite your pleas for it to stop. To your relief I order you to your feet, however this relief is short-lived when you realise you are in for a taste of the slipper. I bend you over for twelve searing strokes before having you stand in the corner to await the cane.
You have never had the cane before, but you have heard the stories from other boys. As you await your fate, I berate your behaviour further, informing you that the usual six strokes has been increased to twelve in your case. I have you stand in the middle of the room and order you to bend over and touch your toes. Bottom taught and bared, you feel exposed and quiver with nerves as I warm the cane with a swish. Each stroke appears to land in the same spot and the pain builds as stroke after stroke is applied to your now very sore bottom.
Finally I allow you to stand, but the punishment is not over yet...
You have me stand outside your office, bottom bared with hands on head so that any pupil passing may see just what happens to boys who disgrace the school in such a manner.