Rebecca

My eyes locked on his, challenging him. I wasn't going to make this easy- he needed to learn who I was.
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Two weeks ago Mr Holden arrived to take over as head of sixth form, since then he has started to try and change things- which wasn't going down well with me.
Rebecca Jones, Upper Sixth. After six and a half years at at St. Georges I had earned a certain amount of respect from the staff. 12 A*'s at GCSE, and was predicted four A's in the A2 exams, not to mention drama club, debating society, riding team and netball team captain. All of this had put me in a position to pretty much get away with murder. My choice of short skirts or strong make up wasn't questioned, and if I got in a bit late on a school night, or hung out of my window to have a cigarette staff turned a blind eye, a system that suited me very well, until Mr Holden arrived, and started messing around with the great system I had going.
It had been a Thursday night, and one of the kitchen boys asked me if I wanted to go to the pub with him, it seemed like a good idea, and so I went along. A couple of Bacardi Breezers later and I was feeling light headed and optimistic, I'd made my way through a whole packet of Malbro Menthol's and had started kissing the afore mentioned kitchen boy against the wall of the pub's garden when my phone started vibrating in the pocket of my school skirt, I pushed the boy off and picked it up,
'Bex? Where the hell are you?' said the panicky voice of my best friend Alice.
'I'm at the pub babe, whats going on?,'
' Mr Holden is doing a room check, we've all got to be in our rooms in five minuets, you need to get back RIGHT now!'
I hung up quickly and started to make my way to the car, quickly garbling some excuse to the boy. I sped through twisty country lanes, praying that I wouldn't meet a car coming in the opposite direction. I screeched into the sixth form car park and then scrambled up the fire escape, in the escape method that I'd discovered aged 15 when I ran out of phone credit and needed to sprint over the the garage.
I stood, rosy cheeked and out of breath in my bed room, there was no time to change my clothes so I'd still smell of smoke, but I grabbed a bottle of perfume and in a last attempt, liberally sprayed myself. Just as I chucked the bottle onto my bed the door opened and in walked Mr Holden. He was tall and good looking, typical ex-public school rugby player, he looked directly at me, distinctly unimpressed.
He broke the icy gaze between us first.
'Miss Jones, nice of you to join us.'
'I'm sure I don't know what you mean sir, I've just been down at the music block, practicing piano.' There was no way I was going to help him incriminate him- and what was his problem anyway? I'm seventeen, I'm perfectly capable of looking out for myself.
'A well rehearsed excuse I'm sure Miss Jones, but not one that I'm inclined to fall for, especially as I've just seen a VW convertible Beetle that looks astonishingly like yours, being driven irresponsibly fast into the car park.'
'But sir, All due respect but I've been going out in the evenings for years. Anyway, I was just in the village getting some...' I looked around desperately for inspiration, none came so I gave up. It was clear the he knew as well as I did where I'd been.
'I'm well aware of what you've been getting away with for years Jones, but coming into school stinking of smoke with lipstick smeared all over your face is not acceptable. It's a terrible example to the younger years, and I don't even like to think about the volume of alcohol you drank and then still saw fit to drive. Honestly, I'm shocked at your irresponsible, not to mention promiscuous behavior. I'll see you in my office tomorrow morning at nine thirty.' I looked at him angrily.
'I look forward to it.' I replied cheekily. He closed the door behind him and I picked up my Latin dictionary and threw it at the door in anger. Bastard! How dare he? I picked up my phone and called Alice to tell her to come to my room. I'd never admit it, but his words had sort of got to me- especially about the driving, I'd only just passed my test and if I had met another car- the guilt made me angry.
'Honestly Al, how dare he say that stuff to me? He basically called me a slut! , I mean, he's payed to be in charge of us, not be a fucking bastard and ruin my life!' I yelled down the phone. Five minuets later she turned up at my room with hot chocolate. Alice nodded sympathetically as I told my story and we curled up in my double bed and watched friends on DVD until we fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up. It was nine twenty five. I rolled over, about to go back to sleep when I remembered- shit! Mr Holden. I scrambled out of bed, waking up a very grumpy Alice in the process.
'Fuck Alice- I'm late to see Mr H! Where the fuck is my school skirt? Fuck Fuck Fuck!' I sprinted down the corridor in my school skirt and a t-shirt that I found in my wardrobe, I barely had time to grab a pair of shoes, in a final attempt at looking presentable, I tied up my hair, attractively smoky after last night, in a bun. I arrived at his office only five minuets late- which I thought was pretty impressive, and knocked.
'Come.' Come? What happened to Come In? How pompous.
'Hey Sir.' I smiled widely, and fluttered my eyelashes lightly- the flutter that got me free rides on the bus and A grades when I really deserved a B. I sad down delicately in the chair opposite him and positioned myself so that he had a good view of my cleavage. To my surprise he ignored this.
'Jones. Late, not that I'm surprised. Your records don't exactly show a predisposition for being on time.'
'I prefer fashionably late actually Sir.' Another wide smile, seriously, this man has no sense of humor.
'Fashionable or otherwise, your behavior is unacceptable.' He looked at me, taking in my messy almost school uniform look and sighed, as if my rule breaking was personally offensive to him. 'You've got vast amounts of potential, Rebecca, but you've been allowed to get away with murder, and its going to stop. ' His steely grey eyes surveyed me. I did the same thing. I find that meeting a teacher's eyes when they're telling you off can be quite disconcerting.
'I understand sir, and I'll try and improve. Can I go to breakfast now?' He looked at me like he didn't know what to say.
'Miss Jones, I don't think that you appreciate the seriousness of your situation. You've effectively been caught smoking, drinking, out of bounds and from what I can gather, acting inappropriately with a member of the kitchen staff. Do you know how trouble you are in? ' I senced it was time for the act of contrition, so I bend my head, looking down at my lap and slumped my shoulders.
'I'm sorry Sir.'
That should work. And if not a few false tears should sort him out- after all, hes just a male teacher- manipulation is easy.
'Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be Jones.'
What? Thats not right. What's he saying?
'Your going to have to be punished.'
Oh- detention. Fair enough, I'll turn up, do an hour of home work under supervision and then leave. For a minuit there I thought he meant-
'And in the circumstance it is well within my rights to use the cane.'
For a minuet there I thought that he said the word cane.
'Unless you'd rather I called your parents?'
The act of contrition is over, and one of desperation is about to begin. He can't call my parents. My Dad's an ex-army ambassador. He would not take well to finding out that his daughter was leaving school to smoke, drink and do all kinds of naughty things with boys. They'd probably make me go and join them in India. I gave up the act.
'Sir! Please, please don't. My parents would kill me- and as for.. that thing you said, you can't. You just can't!' He smiled, Oh so now he discovers a sence of humor.
'Is that some genuine fear, from the infamous Rebecca Jones? Well, that was easier than I had expected. Yes, I can cane you, and I intend to do so. Hard.'
Smug, self satisfied , sadistic bastard, how dare he? I'm not afraid- anyway, how much can it hurt? I looked up to see him crossing the room and taking a long thin, evil looking object out of his desk. I smiled at him.
'Fear? Oh sir you clearly have no idea who I am.' He smiled again.
'Clearly. Now you will remove your knickers, raise your skirt and bend over the desk.' Well, if he's going to play with me, I'll play right back at him. Tantalizingly slowly, and as if performing a strip show I slip down my bright pink topshop lacy French knickers. Bet the pervert was enjoying this.
'Isn't there some kind of uniform underwear that you're expected to adhere to Jones?'
'Oh like you said sir, I've been getting away with murder.' I bend provocatively over the desk and lifted up my skirt, sticking out my arse, with the smug satisfaction of one who knows that they have a perfect derrière.
'Headstrong aren't we? Lets see if we can thrash some of that out of you.'
The word thrash did throw me a bit, I have to say, but as ever, I refused to be beaten (in spirit at least.)
'Go on then sir.'
'You'll thank me after each one, and count.' I felt the cool of the cane being lined up against my arse, and then, a few seconds later, a sickening swish as the cane flew through the air, and a crack as it landed on my so far unmarked backside. The pain was like nothing that I had ever felt, red hot and searing. I cried out in shock as much as in pain and leapt up.
'One, Thank you sir.' I said shakily, the tone of my voice drenched in hate.
'Not so cocky now are we Jones? Back over the desk please, you've got another five of those coming to you.' I was lost for words, five more? Five more? There was no way I would ever survive that, but his strong hands were on my lower back, bending me back over the desk. Once again he brought it swishing through the air and landing directly underneath the previous stroke, where a bright red welt now stood out, furious against the rest of my lightly tanned, unmarked flesh. I burst into tears at this stroke, unable to hold them back, I also jumped up. Holden didn't seem surprised, and he pushed me back over the desk. Only this time he stayed behind me, and whispered in my ear.
'Hold onto the other side of the desk, it'll help.'
'Two, thank you sir.'
The same drill, another breathtaking swish, and searing pain, lain perfectly below the previous, in true Holden perfection. This time, with his advise, I manged to stay in place, but I still cried out and tears still flooded my cheeks. I took a deep breath. My pride was destroyed, I was no longer above begging.
'Please, please sir, Please stop.'
'Three more Jones.' How was he remaining so stoic?
The next two landed in quick succession, with equal force to the previous three, I cried out after each, but continued to stay in place.
'Last one Jones, one to sit on I think.' He brought the cane down again, this time right at the base of my bottom, where it meets the thighs, I cried out, louder than before. The bastard. That had been the worst one so far. I pulled my skirt back down and turned to look at him.
'Thank you sir.' I said shakily. I had never been in so much pain before, but worse was how I felt about myself. He pulled me towards him and hugged me. I cried into his chest, feeling horribly guilty- already when I looked back at my behavior, I could see what a brat I had been. He got a tissue and gently wiped off the trails of black eye make up that streamed with my tears.
'Sir?'
'Yes?'
'I'm sorry.'
'I know Rebecca.'
We sat in silence for a moment.
'Was that the first time that you've been beaten Rebecca?'
'Yes sir. I don't think anyone's ever quite dared before.' He laughed.
'You put on quite a performance I have to admit, I've never seen anything like it.' I giggled despite myself.
'Thanks.'
'I wasn't lying when I said you've got a lot of potential, you know Rebecca. You could even make Headgirl next year. Of course you'd have to make the decision between head girl and headstrong.'
I looked at him and smiled. For the first time it wasn't me against the world. I felt defeated, but happy.
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