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Name: Portia
My age: 40
Where am I from: Panamanian
My figure type: Skinny
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I can remember the discussion we had when the cane was banned in state schools years ago; although I was teaching in a fee-paying school at the time, we had to stop too, as the law covered girls who were at our college but on government grants under the Assisted Places scheme.

I was never a fan of using corporal punishment in any case.

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I guess I ought to give you a bit of background on myself. I need to go back a bit before that, though, so you understand the reason why the caning, well, mattered so much to me. During the time I was doing my research, I found myself becoming more and more attracted by the idea of teaching as a career. I settled down very quickly — the teaching was great fun, with classes in Economics for O and A Level, mixed with teaching French to some of the younger girls.

I had been quite concerned about one thing before I started — teenage girls, all boarders, aged fromstuck in a country house with a group of mainly male teachers. Most of the men were happily married, with their wives living with them in the staff accommodation at the school.

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There was one thing that did slightly worry me, though, and that was the disciplinary regime at Winthrop. To say it was strict was an understatement: the girls seemed to live in almost constant fear of punishment, and some of the staff seemed to take an almost unhealthy delight in meting out correction. Come and bend over my desk at the front of the class and take three swats with the slipper.

Report to your housemaster this evening for six of the best with the tawse. Punishments were a frequent topic of discussion in the staff room as well.

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And I also remember how the housemasters agreed that they would each find an opportunity that day to use the new implements, and then reporting back that evening on the agonies that they had inflicted. Now, I found it somewhat difficult to relate to all of this. Here, I cane a girl was lucky if she got through her time at the school without at least one whacking in front of the class.

Far better, to my mind, to trust your students, so that they learn to trust and respect you. By the end of my second year at the school — in summer — things were going well for me at Winthrop. The kids I taught seemed to like me — and to get good exam ; I managed to get quite actively involved in various extra-curricular activities sports, adventure trips, that kind of thing. And even the headmaster, the dreaded Mr Evans dreaded, that is, by stories of the staff, as well as the pupils! I went to spend that summer vacation in France.

My girlfriend at the time, Marie, was French, and lived in the Loire valley. I look erotic on that summer very fondly: lazy days, good food and wine and — particularly memorable — making passionate, erotic love to one another whenever and wherever the opportunity arose!

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It was towards the middle of August that Marie came into the bedroom one morning with the pile of post, and passed me a letter from the school. As dessert arrived, Evans turned the conversation to the project which he had mentioned in his letter.

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Frankly, I was astonished. There was I, story in my late twenties — a good ten years younger than any of the other housemasters. Primarily, I wanted his assurance that I would have full flexibility to run the house exactly as I wanted to, and that he would back any decisions that I made. And secondly, I wanted to select a small team of girls straight away, to work with me on deciding how the house should be run. Much to my satisfaction, Evans agreed to both. Parents live in Bristol, he does something for the council?

So, I left dinner that night a happy man, with Evans having agreed to all I had requested. The next few months were great: the building was taking shape, and the girls and I met regularly to make our plans. Our aim was to make the house the one to which the girls in the school most wanted to belong — not just because of its modern facilities, but more because of its atmosphere and approach. Ideas were exchanged freely and openly, and we began to trust each other erotic much completely; the girls were forever popping into my office to discuss this idea or that.

One of the interesting topics that came up was — not surprisingly — the one of discipline. The team desperately wanted me to agree not to use corporal punishment in the new house, and I was minded to cane, given my own thoughts on the matter. So I sent a note to Evans My team has requested that I agree not to use corporal punishment in the new house.

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I am sympathetic to this request. The reply came back the following day, and I read it to the girls. As you know, I believe corporal punishment serves two vital roles in a school such as ours: as a deterrent, and as a strong punishment for those who do misbehave.

If, however, you do not wish to use it in your house, I am prepared to accept that policy, as I have given you the authority to take decisions on how the house should be run.

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This is, however, subject to your agreement that you would indeed administer such punishment if I were ever to require you to do so in a specific instance. The girls could hardly believe their luck: the head never interfered in house matters, so the chances of him using his power to override me seemed remote — and a condition worth accepting! By Septemberthe new building was complete, and we moved in, with a full complement of 60 girls.

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Of the six who had formed my team the year before, two had left to go to university. At the first house assembly in September, I explained the philosophy of the new house to the girls. I will, however, reserve the right to administer the cane if you put me in a position where I have no choice. If this ever happens, I will be extremely disappointed in you. Things went well — very well.

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And we were having fun! I took some flack from my colleagues in the staff room about the discipline issue, though. The only downside for me was the ending of my relationship with Marie. I had less and less time to travel to France, and her work stopped her from getting to Shropshire. In January, she called me, and told me that she had found someone else and was planning to marry him.

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I was miserable for about a week — so much so that Sally and Imogen, who was in the Lower Sixth by now, bought me a box of chocolates to cheer me up! At the start of the summer term, the headmaster was on the warpath. As I walked into the staff room the following morning, I was greeted with sarcastic cheers. I wondered why.

This was terrible. She was too…. But it sounded very worrying. The bell rang for the start of lessons.

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I daydreamed my way through the first three lessons, and wandered up to my office at break. I felt betrayed, angry. As I opened the office door, I noticed a cane, white envelope on the carpet. I picked it up and opened it. You story recall my speech in assembly yesterday morning in which I outlined the erotic steps that would be taken against any girls found drinking alcohol. Yesterday evening, I found a group of girls in The Swan public house in Ilfley, all drinking alcohol.

One of these girls, Imogen Jones, is a member of your house. I am writing to the housemasters of all of the girls involved, to instruct them to give each offender eight strokes of the cane before the end of today; four for the drinking, and four for their gross disobedience. I know that I can trust you to deliver this punishment, and look forward to receiving the ed punishment form attached by midday tomorrow.

Eight strokes!!!

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This was disastrous. But I had no choice…. I went over to my desk, and scribbled a note. I would like to see you in my study this lunchtime at 1. Thank you. I found it quite hard to concentrate for the rest of the morning, and only nibbled at my lunch. It would be better that way: I might not feel so angry with her by then, and at least she would be able to lie on her front for the night rather than having to sit in a classroom all afternoon on her whipped backside.