The Headmaster's Study

Eliane was nervous. She hadn't had to visit Headmaster Higgins study before, but she'd heard tales of the girls who had. On reflection, going along with EmmaJane's idea to go to the college disco in town dressed in their school uniform had probably not been the brightest decision in the world. The idea had seemed even worse when Mr Jackson, their young history teacher, spotted them in the disco, drunk and dancing with abandon in the middle of the dance stage.
And so retribution fell the next day, as they were summoned to the study. Standing outside waiting, they were tormented by two of the other pupils who were passing, and so the first thing heard by the headmaster was the voice of EmmaJane remonstrating with the other girls. This earned her a hand tawsing before anything else happened. Eliane screwed her eyes tight shut and winced as she heard the tawse slam into her friend's hands four times.
Then the head turned to them both, and began a stern lecture on their stupid behaviour. He pointed out that the school worked very hard to keep up a good reputation, that breaking bounds was bad enough, but to behave in such a manner in their school uniform was appalling. That EmmaJane should know better as she had been in trouble before. Eliane could take in very little of this lecture. Standing in the head's study, knowing she would at the very least receive a strapping, she could barely even raise her eyes to meet those of the formidable man standing in front of her.
Then the lecturing stopped, and he pulled a chair into the middle of the room. He took a seat, and Eliane wondered what he was doing. She was horrified to realise that he was going to spank her over his knee like a little girl. She was 17 and in the sixth form, not some little first year. This was mortifying. She had enough good sense not to protest though, and went over his knee. The smacks that rained down from the very start were like fire, each one stinging unbearably. All thoughts flew out of her head as she just prayed for the pain and the embarrassment to be over. Eventually she was told to get up, and was set to stand facing the wall, holding her skirt up, while EmmaJane received the same treatment. The sound of the smacks on EmmaJane's bottom was so loud that her ears were ringing.
Eventually they stopped. Eliane held onto a small hope that this might be the full extent of the punishment, but that silly notion was soon corrected when she was called over and instructed to bend over the desk. "Twelve".
The three tailed tawse slammed into her bottom twelve times, and Eliane focussed entirely on counting correctly and not moving too much. When all twelve had been dolled out she was instructed to stand and adjust her clothes. But instead of the instruction to get back and face the wall, she was ordered to stand at the side of the desk, and watch what happened to girls who appeared for a second time in the Headmaster's study.
When EmmaJane was in position, the Head informed her that he would tawse her until he felt she was sorry, and then she could start to count out the strokes. With each slap of the tawse into her friend's bottom, Eliane felt more and more upset. She tried to watch, but ended up flinching and closing her eyes as every stroke fell. She could see EmmaJane writhing and trying so hard to stay still. She desperately wanted to hold the hand that was so near to her, bring some comfort, but she did not dare move for fear of how much more retribution she would bring on their heads. Eliane had no idea of how many strokes fell before the Head informed the prone girl that she would count 18 more. The pain could be heard more and more in her friend's voice as the strokes rained down, and tears welled up in Eliane's eyes as she witnessed the punishment. Every fibre in her body was telling to interrupt, grab the strap, scream at the Head to stop hurting her friend, but her sense of self preservation prevented her. Finally, the last 18 strokes had been dealt, and the girls were standing next to each other once more. They managed to squeeze hands briefly as a last admonishment to never find themselves in such a position again was issued, and then the torment was over.