It is now Sunday evening. The police have called Mr Preston, the Maths master, to say that his car was stolen by a joy rider and written off in an accident. When he gets up to Tamsin's room, she is face down on the bed weeping. But Mr Preston is in no mood for sympathy. He determined to give her a hundred strokes for what she did to his car, and there was no way she was going to escape the final thirty five. Time and again the whippy cane swoops down until her bottom finally glows red. But he has to concede that she took her caning century pretty well and at the end cannot but feel some sympat...

It is now Sunday evening. The police have called Mr Preston, the Maths master, to say that his car was stolen by a joy rider and written off in an accident. When he gets up to Tamsin's room, she is face down on the bed weeping. But Mr Preston is in no mood for sympathy. He determined to give her a hundred strokes for what she did to his car, and there was no way she was going to escape the final thirty five. Time and again the whippy cane swoops down until her bottom finally glows red. But he has to concede that she took her caning century pretty well and at the end cannot but feel some sympathy towards the nubile young lady. (CA222)