APPLY WITHIN

Margaret Simpson looked up and down the small road desperately.
Rummaging in her handbag, she produced the newspaper cutting which had
brought her there. It was just a small lineage ad. "Disciplinary
canes, suitable for all children, available from T H Grey, 20 New
Road, Tinsley."
Well, after a hour-long drag through town, this was New Road, butit
just couldn't be right, thought Margaret.  This was a quiet
residential street, not a shop in sight. She was on the verge of
giving up, but after all her effort she decided to walk up the road
anyway.
On reaching number 20 she found that it had been converted into
offices. There was an architect's, an insurance agent, and last of
all "T H Grey, Supplies". That was all it said.
Margaret pushed the button on the intercom next to the name.
"Hello?" A man's voice.
"Is this the right place for school canes?" "Yes indeed," the voice
replied, "please walk up."
A buzz announced the opening door, and Margaret entered the building.
Of course, it had to be the highest office up - just her luck.
The door in was plain, just a brass plate with the name again. Inside
was a counter, behind which stood the owner of the voice. He was quite
old - early 60s Margaret thought - but had a kind face.
"Mr Grey?"
"That's right."
"My name is Simpson, I understand you"
Mr Grey interrupted her, gently but firmly. "If you'd just like to
hold on a second, my wife will be down to see to you. I deal with the
dads, and she deals with the mums - we find things less awkward that
way."
As he finished speaking, a grey-haired lady of about the same age came
through from the "back" of the shop.
"You'd like to buy a cane? Follow me, please."
The old lady led Margaret past the counter, through a door and up some
stairs to a second room. It was lined with shelves, each in turn
stacked with thin, green, rectangular boxes. A table and a couple of
chairs were the only other things in the room.
"Now then, dear, is it for a boy or a girl?"
"For my daughter, Laura."
"I see. And how old is Laura?"
"11."
"Right. Does she get her bottom smacked at the moment?"
"Just my hand. Really she's getting a bit big to put across my knee,
but"
"but at that age they still need a good bit of discipline, don't
they? Yes. Well, I think you'll find the cane ideal. Now, is it going
to be yourself doing the whacking?"
"Yes."
"That's good. I always suggest that mum does the whacking when it
comes to girls. They're usually embarrassed enough by having to be
caned, anyway, without dad being involved. Take her somewhere nice and
private, just the two of you, that's the way - either your bedroom or
hers, really. Now then, let me see11 years oldhmm, I think a junior
school grade two will be about right for your Laura"
Mrs Grey went over to the shelves and after scanning them for a
moment, brought down one of the green boxes and opened it on the
table. Inside was plenty of blue tissue paper, and wrapped in this was
a cane. The old woman took it in her hands and offered it to Margaret.
She was surprised how insubstantial it was. It was extremely light,
barely 3ft long, a thin corn-yellow streak with the traditional crook
handle. Margaret was dubious as to its power to punish. "And how much
is this one?"
"That one's ten pounds," replied the old lady.
"Ten pounds?" Margaret echoed incredulously, "I could buy a whole bag
of them for that at the local garden store!"
Mrs Grey remained unruffled. "But you see, my dear," she explained
patiently, "those are not the same. Those are bamboo, all stiff, which
could cut your daughter's bottom to ribbons. This, on the other hand"
(she took the cane back) "this is rattan. It stings a lot, but that's
all. See how bendy it is?" With that, she placed a hand at either end
of the cane and almost bent it in two."
Margaret was taken aback. She didn't want to cause any permanent
damage to her daughter's bottom. A little instructive temporary heat
was all that was required. But she was still unconvinced of the
implement's capabilities. "But this is only a junior school one," she
objected. "Surely she's old enough for something a bit heavier?"
Mrs Grey shook her head vigorously. "No, dear. I only ever recommend
senior canes for very recalcitrant teenagers. Don't worry, it won't
break and I assure you it'll hurt very much indeed. And it's lovely
and light - just the thing for a mum to use. However, perhaps you need
a little demonstration, do you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Well, I usually suggest to mums that they have a dose themselves
before they take the cane home anyway, just so they know what a harsh
implement it can be if it's used incorrectly."
A rebuke of the harshest kind rose on Margaret's lips, but it froze
there. Perhaps it was only fair that she knew what Laura would go
through, she reflected. She felt herself blush deeply, and the old
lady noticed her embarrassment.
"Come on, my dear, don't be shy. We've all had our bottoms smacked,
haven't we? You see, there's a knack to caning, and the best way to
learn how to do it is to get it. Take off your coat and bend over the
back of one of those chairs, there's a good girl."
Her voice was so kind and soothing that Margaret, hardly believing
herself, obeyed.
She felt Mrs Grey lift her skirt over her back, but froze as she felt
rough, wrinkled hands on the waistband of her panties.
"No! I don't smack Laura on the bare bottom."
"Well, dear, I'm going to suggest that you do from now on. It's
important when you're caning to keep an eye on where the strokes land.
Now don't be silly - it's not as if I haven't seen a bare backside
before - raised seven of my own and they all got caned like this."
With that, she yanked the plain white pants down to the younger
woman's thighs and gave Margaret's right buttock a playful rub.
"Did you get this in school?"
Margaret nodded her head, and the years seemed to roll away. Suddenly
she was her daughter's age again, listening to the big clock tick on
the wall of  Mrs Evans's study. She remembered the awful feeling in
her stomach as her headmistress had produced the cane from a cupboard,
the incredible shame as her name was written in the punishment book.
"What's your first name, dear?"
"Margaret."
"Well, Margaret, I'm going to give you six of the best, which is what
your little girl will be getting for most offences. I'm going to start
just below the cleavage of your bum, and the last one will be on the
tops of your thighs. To do this, I step a little closer to you after
each stroke. Understand?"
"Yes."
Without warning, Margaret heard the hiss of the cane being drawn back
- the next moment there was a slash of pain across the centre of her
buttocks. She yelped, and to her amazement found tears welling up. She
blinked, and they trickled hotly down her face.
Mrs Grey remained calm. "I usually tell the mum to leave a good five
to ten seconds between each smack - that way the punishment lasts a
bit longer and the child has time to think about the next one." WHACK!
Another stroke. "Aargh!"
"That's an attractive little bottom you've got, my dear. I always
think girls are easier to cane than boys. Filled out better in the
right place, if you get me. Boys are all skin and bone down there, not
much of a target."
WHACK! Margaret whimpered like a newly-whipped puppy at another kiss
from the rattan. She no longer doubted the ability of the cane to
adequately chastise her daughter. And the waiting, the waiting was
WHACK! awful. Meanwhile, the old lady surveyed her handiwork. Three
nice red lines. And such an attractive little botty. And the bent-over
punishment position was so revealing. She admired the puckered little
brown anus, the thick black bush adorning the mother's most private
part. Oh well, time for another. WHACK!
Margaret began to cry constantly, though softly. She felt the old
woman's rough hand caress her sore bottom tenderly. "Never mind, my
dear. Two more, then we're done."
Or rather, you are, thought Mrs Grey. She brought the cane down again.
WHACK! Very low now, just where the two hillocks began to rise. She'll
remember that one when she sits down for a while, not to
mentionWHACK! A final, salutary stroke right on the tops of the
woman's thighs.
"Pull your pants up, Margaret, and make yourself decent." The woman
obeyed, wincing as the fabric of her knickers rubbed against the
ridges on her behind.
Mrs Grey offered her a paper tissue to wipe her eyes. "Hurts a lot,
doesn't it?"
"Yes it does!" Margaret wailed, almost accusingly.
"Hmm, well, I'll warrant she won't be such a naughty girl again in a
hurry. Is she due a punishment tonight?"
"Yes."
"Well, go easy on her the first time. Perhaps make it just three
strokes for her first time, then sixers afterwards." Mrs Grey put the
cane back in its box and began to wrap it up. She never questioned
whether Margaret wanted to buy it. "Oh, and you'd better have two, my
dear. Boys are more prone to breaking them as a prank, but you never
know, do you? Helps to have a replacement handy to teach them an
immediate lesson." Margaret fumbled for her purse.
Laura shuffled uncomfortably as she sat on the edge of her bed in her
pyjamas, still dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. The punishment had
been swift and deftly executed. No more for her the warmth of mummy's
knee and mummy's hand when she was a bad girl. Now there was only the
hard back of a chair and the stinging embrace of  rattan. And a pain,
without and within.
She stood up and put her hand down the back of her pyjama trousers.
Her fingers traversed her smooth bare bottom and felt three hot,
evenly spaced ridges. How had her mum suddenly become such an expert
with the cane, she wondered?