Girl Caning
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Girl Caning
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Выбрать язык русский азербайджанский аймара албанский амхарский арабский армянский ассамский африкаанс бамбара баскский белорусский бенгальский бирманский болгарский боснийский бходжпури валлийский венгерский вьетнамский гавайский галисийский греческий грузинский гуарани гуджарати датский догри зулу иврит игбо идиш илоканский индонезийский ирландский исландский испанский итальянский йоруба казахский каннада каталанский кечуа киргизский китайский (традиционный) китайский (упрощенный) конкани корейский корсиканский коса креольский (гаити) крио курдский (курманджи) курдский (сорани) кхмерский лаосский латинский латышский лингала литовский луганда люксембургский майтхили македонский малагасийский малайский малаялам мальдивский мальтийский маори маратхи мейтейлон (манипури) мизо монгольский немецкий непальский нидерландский норвежский ория оромо панджаби персидский польский португальский пушту руанда румынский самоанский санскрит себуанский сепеди сербский сесото сингальский синдхи словацкий словенский сомалийский суахили сунданский таджикский тайский тамильский татарский телугу тигринья тсонга турецкий туркменский узбекский уйгурский украинский урду филиппинский финский французский фризский хауса хинди хмонг хорватский чви чева чешский шведский шона шотландский (гэльский) эве эсперанто эстонский яванский японский
When I was a little girl, the discipline I dreaded most was a beating with the cane. My mother used a rattan cane and it never failed to leave a nasty sting. I would have red lines and raised welts decorating my bare bottom for the next two to three days, and the entire ordeal was very painful.
When Mum told me that I was going to have the cane, my buttocks would clench up, and I became nervous and afraid. Previous memories of the cane’s lasting sting would fill my thoughts and begin to haunt me, even before I had been beaten this time.
To receive my punishment, I had to bend over a wooden chair, keep my legs together and stick my bottom out nicely. With every stroke, I would flinch and squirm. Mum would take her time and pace the canings so that the sting of each stroke settled before the next was administered, and I could really appreciate the searing pain from each whack.
Mum had three distinct caning styles. In the most common method, she first held the cane firmly against my buttocks and stalled for a couple seconds. She would then pull the cane back and flick her wrist forcibly. The cane would travel parallel to the floor and end its journey across the width of my bottom.
The second style hurt more. Here, Mum would raise her hand high and bring the cane down perpendicular to the floor. The cane would come down whistling and slice through my protruding buttocks. I would flinch and grunt in pain with each impact.
The last was the most severe. In this method, similar to the previous one, Mum would raise her hand and lash the cane down swiftly on my flesh. But the swing here was at a 45-degree angle to the floor. Furthermore, the target area was the far edge of my buttock. In fact, the cane landed just below my hip and on the outer side of my thigh. These canings were always given on my right side, as Mum was right-handed.
Trust me, canings along the width of the buttocks hurt plenty, but the ones landing right below the hip, where the buttock cheek ends and the outer side of the thigh begins, are excruciatingly painful.
I lived through these canings. My mother was certainly very strict, but it helped keep me in line and mould me into the person she wanted me to be. I am a strict mother myself and use a rattan cane to discipline my son. And yes, I do cane him in all the three ways my Mum caned me.
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All Maman stories are copyright, unauthorised reproduction may lead to legal action.
Maman is an adult website containing recollections of corporal punishment experienced during the contributors' childhoods. By proceeding, you are asserting that you are over the age of majority for the country in which you reside, and you further agree to the use of cookies on this website. Note that although this website contains only legal content, Maman is nevertheless a fetish site and should be considered Not Safe For Work (NSFW). Maman does not advocate corporal punishment for today's children. If you are a minor or likely to be upset by the subject matter, please do not proceed any further.
Выбрать язык русский азербайджанский аймара албанский амхарский арабский армянский ассамский африкаанс бамбара баскский белорусский бенгальский бирманский болгарский боснийский бходжпури валлийский венгерский вьетнамский гавайский галисийский греческий грузинский гуарани гуджарати датский догри зулу иврит игбо идиш илоканский индонезийский ирландский исландский испанский итальянский йоруба казахский каннада каталанский кечуа киргизский китайский (традиционный) китайский (упрощенный) конкани корейский корсиканский коса креольский (гаити) крио курдский (курманджи) курдский (сорани) кхмерский лаосский латинский латышский лингала литовский луганда люксембургский майтхили македонский малагасийский малайский малаялам мальдивский мальтийский маори маратхи мейтейлон (манипури) мизо монгольский немецкий непальский нидерландский норвежский ория оромо панджаби персидский польский португальский пушту руанда румынский самоанский санскрит себуанский сепеди сербский сесото сингальский синдхи словацкий словенский сомалийский суахили сунданский таджикский тайский тамильский татарский телугу тигринья тсонга турецкий туркменский узбекский уйгурский украинский урду филиппинский финский французский фризский хауса хинди хмонг хорватский чви чева чешский шведский шона шотландский (гэльский) эве эсперанто эстонский яванский японский
In my fifth year at grammar school, there was a girl in my class called Julie. She was a gorgeous-looking girl but was very much a loner. She was also something of a snitch, and one day she managed to get both myself and my friend Roger caned.
The next day, we decided we would get our revenge on Julie and set her bottom up with an appointment for the cane. The problem was how to do it. All the teachers liked Julie – she was generally a very well behaved girl and only occasionally committed minor misdemeanours, which were rarely punished. She had certainly never been sent for the cane.
In the end, Roger and I decided that the only way this would happen was if Julie was discovered to have committed one of those serious offences at our school which meant an automatic caning – such as playing truant, bullying or smoking. The latter was the only one we could think of that might work.
We got hold of an opened packet of cigarettes and somehow managed to sneak them into Julie’s school bag during the break. We had held one cigarette back – we this smoked sneakily between us and kept the butt. This we placed carelessly on the floor of the classroom, right next to the teacher’s desk.
Our plan worked perfectly – the teacher quickly noticed the butt and demanded to know who had been smoking. Of course, everyone denied all knowledge of it but our teacher wasn’t to be deterred – she announced that there would be a search of bags and desks. She made everyone stand up behind their desks so nothing could be moved, and began.
Julie was sitting on the front row, so it wasn’t long before here bag and desk were checked and surprise, surprise, the teacher found the partial packet of cigarettes. The fact that they were the same brand as the stub pretty much sealed her fate. Of course, Julie denied she had been smoking and said someone must have planted them, but the teacher wasn’t in the mood for arguments and continued with her search.
One unexpected consequence of our plan was that toward the end of the search, the teacher found more cigarettes, this time in a boy’s bag. That boy admitted it immediately, and the teacher then sent both him and Julie to the office with report slips.
As expected, both pupils were told to report to the deputy headmistress at the end of the day. Julie spent the rest of the time protesting her innocence to everybody and anybody, which of course I found highly amusing.
At the end of the day, I casually strolled past the deputy head’s office. Sure enough, Julie was there, looking very upset and nervous, along with the boy who had been caught out. I hung around close for a little while longer and after several minutes, Julie appeared walking up the corridor. She was rubbing her bum vigorously through her skirt and tears were running down her face. I couldn’t help but grin at her obvious distress.
Despite her best efforts, Julie never found out how the cigarettes got in her bag. One thing did change, though – she stopped being a snitch and gained some proper friends.
Around 20 years later, I met Julie again at a school reunion. We got chatting – she was still single – and actually hit it off really well. Ironically, I found out that she was now deputy head at a private school.
That revelation emboldened me to bring up the cigarettes incident. Julie told me that she had Roger and myself as her prime suspects, because she had got us both whacked the previous day. I had the good grace to blush and finally admitted what I had done. To my relief, Julie was more amused than angry. “Well, I guess we’re equal now,” she remarked. Then she revealed that she had been given eight strokes that day, rather than the usual six of the best reserved for such offences, because she kept jumping up during her caning.
I then carefully raised the subject of corporal punishment at her current school. Although the cane had been abolished in state schools by this time, it was still permitted in private education and Julie said it was still an option at her school, though rarely used, and that she had given the cane herself on several occasions.
With something of a wicked grin, I asked whether she enjoyed dishing it out. She replied: “Well, I do it as a last resort – it feels rather barbaric, to be honest, especially when you’ve had it yourself and know what it feels like.”
Part of me had been getting up the courage to ask Julie to cane me privately some time, but her comment seemed to put the lid on that idea. We did agree to meet again, though, and indeed we dated casually for some time – but sadly, it seemed Julie was too focused on her career to have much time for men, and we drifted apart.
All Maman stories are copyright, unauthorised reproduction may lead to legal action.
Maman is an adult website containing recollections of corporal punishment experienced during the contributors' childhoods. By proceeding, you are asserting that you are over the age of majority for the country in which you reside, and you further agree to the use of cookies on this website. Note that although this website contains only legal content, Maman is nevertheless a fetish site and should be considered Not Safe For Work (NSFW). Maman does not advocate corporal punishment for today's children. If you are a minor or likely to be upset by the subject matter, please do not proceed any further.
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