Sara dreaded Friday evenings, especially when she knew that entry's had been added to the weekly report which made up the family punishment book. When the rest of her friends would be looking forward to the weekend, she would be stood , cold and trembling with fear waiting for the inevitable thrashing. Her stomach knotted as she heard footsteps on the stairs. Soon denied any privacy, her bare bottom would hang loose and exposed, her knickers swaying below her slightly quivering cheeks.

No care was ever taken to aim the hard strokes of the cane where they may havehurt a little less. In Sarah's house punishment was meant to hurt! The cuts from the rod would land at random, across her broad buttocks, thighs and at times just below the crease of her cheeks. Strokes that landed across the back of her thighs always made her jump up, shrieking and tearing at her flesh as she did. This always resulted in further (harder) strokes being given.

By the time her punishment in the cellar was over, the whole of her buttocks and legs would be a vivid mess of welts and bruises that would last well into the next week. No thought was ever given for Sarah's modesty, it was just a simple fact that when she misbehaved she was stripped and thrashed as hard as possible until it was deemed that sufficient punishment had been inflicted to help modify and correct errant behavior!