“Ready for your caning, Barkley?” she asked boldly. “Oh, Miss,” I groaned, tears rushing to my eyes. “Please have mercy!” “I told you, Barkley, you were going to be caned today. I am a woman of my word. Now, which cane shall it be?” I blinked and stared at the woman through my tears. She had turned away from me and was unlatching the cane case. I couldn’t help but notice her slender figure and rounded bum as she leaned forward and stretched upward. She slid the glass panel up and studied the canes. To my horror she took down the senior cane! She bent it experimentally in her hands. “Ah, a nice stout cane this one. Been here for generations. I tasted it myself when I was a schoolgirl.” My jaw dropped open imaging Miss Craven bending over for a caning. And with the senior cane no less!
A Trip to the Head25
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