I sucked greedily on her wet fingers, tasting for thefirst time the salty and bitter taste of my own sperm.How humiliating.‘Go to your room!R...7; she said. I slunk away, still unableto look her in the eye. I lay on my bed, crying into mypillow. But my tears stopped when I heard the soundscoming from her bedroom. My bedroom door was open and Icould hear her breathing deeply, breaths that werebecoming increasingly laboured.I got off my bed and tip toed across the landing. Momhad left her. I stood in front of the Head, my arm out straight, my palms flat, waiting for the stick to sting my tender flesh. My hands were shaking and it took a great deal of effort to hold them still. My excitement at witnessing my best friend's caning quickly disappeared as I concentrated on my own punishment I was about to receive.As the cane whistled through the air and struck my hand with a loud crack, the pain became unbearable as my palm felt damaged beyond repair. Being caned in class was nothing. More

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