The senior mistress kept me bent over like that for about a minute, still crying, my bottom flooded with pain. Finally, she patted me on the back and told me to stand up. I can still remember my relief! I stood up slowly, my whole body was hurting, and pressed both hands to my poor injured bottom.
“Trousers back on!”
This took a while, given the painful state of my posterior. Eventually I stood, still tearful, facing Mrs Seaton. My hands were carefully massaging my smarting rear. I could feel the mark left by that wayward third stroke on bare flesh, not covered by my short trousers as the others were.
