The third stroke landed lower than the first two had, whether intentionally or caused by my involuntary wrigglings across the desk. It whipped down across the very tops of my thighs and stung like bloody hell – even worse than those first two strokes. I screamed at the top of my voice and writhed over the desk in agony. Somehow I managed to stay down and to channel all of my efforts into holding on. But I was sobbing as I awaited the fourth and final stroke.
Mrs Seaton kept me waiting for a long time, sobbing over her desk, my poor little bottom bouncing up and down as I awaited the last stroke. Finally it came. Another real stinger across the centre of my bottom. I howled out in pain again, but still kept a grip on that desk. I didn’t want to earn extra strokes now!
