A Learning Experience

A Learning Experience

by Hitttite

Somewhat inspired by this news item: http://www.corpun.com/ugs00504.htm#16308


Just like every other student entering their 8th grade year of school at the high school in Uganda, Maria was nervous.

However, what made her different was that she had not been in school since she was 10 years old. She was 24 years old, and in a white blouse and a blue uniform skirt, she was lining up with a group of adolescents to begin her education.


She had quit school when she was ten years old, because her father had ordered her to. Her father had instead wanted her to be a housemaid. The family could not survive without she and her two sisters working as house-maids.

So, until two years ago, she had spent her days cleaning the homes of rich people. She had kept her reading skills intact by looking at old magazines she found in the garbage, and seeing the occasional newspaper.

But now, at the age of 24, she was able to get a student loan. She could attend university, but prior to that she needed to complete four years of high school.

There was no formal adult education program in Uganda, so after talking with the principal, she put on a white and blue uniform and walked in on the first day.

As she waited for school to start, she sat and read. She slowly made her way through the sentences on the bright new book she had bought with her loan money, that allowed her to complete high school, and move on to the University.

The young people around her were talking, whispering and gossiping. One group of girls was nervously climbing up an apple tree near the outside of the school, and picking the apples from the tree. They were handing them to the other children who ate them excitedly.

Most of the children there, much like Maria, had not had breakfast.


When school was to begin, the headmistress, a tall black woman, just as dark as all the other children walked out onto the lawn. She blew her whistle, and soon all the children, and Maria were lined up in perfect formation, ready to march into school for their first day.

The headmistress carried with her the symbol of her authority, the long slender cane.

She held it up before the silent students, all nervous about beginning the first day of school.

The headmistress spoke.

“Welcome to a new year at school. Before we march in, something must be done. I noticed that four of the girls here were eating apples from the tree here in the yard. Those apples did not belong to you! The tree belongs to the school! You cannot just take things that do not belong to you! We are a Christian all girls school! We do not allow stealing!”

She then called off the name of the four young women who had climbed the trees. They were all trembling, scared of being punished before their classmates on the first day of school.

“You shall each receive three strokes of the cane. It will be a good lesson. I do this because I want to raise you girls to behave properly. Once you have been caned, you can consider the matter closed. I will thrash each of you with the hardest strokes I can muster, though.”

The four girls lined up. With her cane over her shoulder, in almost military like formation, the headmistress walked behind the girls, who stood separate from their classmates in a perfect row.

The headmistress stopped before the first girl. She then yelled in the harshest tone she could: “PRESENT YOUR BUTTOCKS!”

The first girl did as she was told, and flipped her skirt up, before bending forward.

The students all looked at the look of terror on this girls face as she was about to receive the first caning of the year.

The headmistresses pulled back and swung the cane down three times, hard and swift. The girl stood up and was sobbing in pain, she then rain back to join her classmates out of the line.

The headmistress walked to the next girl, and with the loudest voice she could muster screamed the same command. “PRESENT YOUR BUTTOCKS!”

It was like clock-work.

Maria was nervous as she walked on. Was she subject to being caned on her buttocks, even though she was 24 years old? Could she get a spanking in front of her classmates?

Certainly not, she thought. She was an adult. She was 24 years old.

The last time anyone had laid a punitive hand on her was when she was 12 years old. It was two years after leaving school. She had been late to her job as maid. The man who headed the household gave her the choice of a licking with his belt or being fired. She took the licking.

Maria’s buttocks clenched in fear as she remembered this experience, marching with all the other girls into school. But then she remembered how receiving corporal punishment was not the same as being hit by her father in a fit of rage.

After she had laid down on the couch, so the head of the household could give her a dose of the strap, he had hugged her. He had spoken softly and said “be a good girl and be on time now.”

It had been all over then. The pain had been gone.

In a way, recalling her last spanking relaxed her as she walked in to the strictest, all girls academy, to finish her education and complete her road to a University and Good Life.

Two months later, the students in her biology class all frowned as their test results came back. All except Maria and one other girl had failed the test.

Their teacher, a young Black woman, just one year older than Maria stood up in front of the room.

“The results you girls received on this test were reprehensible!” She barked. “You will all meet the cane today! Six strokes for the entire class!”

A girl in the front row, the only other girl not have failed along with Maria, raised her hand hopefully, still looking scared.

“But what if we got a good grade, Miss?” She squeaked.

“You girls are a team. You need to encourage each other. If you received good marks, and your classmates did so poorly, why did you not help each other out? Why did you not help our class to succeed?”

The girl, as well as Maria, gulped.

“Line up!” Said the teacher, doing her best to repress a vengeful smile, as she pulled the cane from her desk.

Then Maria, spoke using a full adult voice.

“You don’t really expect me to get a thrashing? I’m 24 years old!” Maria said, firmly, with defiance.

“You are a member of this class!” Snapped the teacher. “I’m sure several of your classmates would happily restrain you if necessary, but you have an appointment with the cane, no matter how old you are!”

So, Maria stood in line, with the rest of the girls. They stood in line, as the epic command “PRESENT YOUR BUTTOCKS!” was uttered, before six loud thwacks, sobs, and the next girl being given the order.

Maria gulped, and awaited the pain.


After getting spanked, Maria went to the restroom and felt her behind. She could feel some real groves that had dug in from the cane. She was furious.

“I am adult.” She thought. “No one has the right to do this to me!”

Instead of going to the next class, she stormed into the headmistresses office.

“I was caned!” She said, after throwing the door open.

“Sit down! And Keep your voice down!” Said the headmistress.

Maria, setting her rage back and finding her place, sat down, painfully in a chair in front of the headmistress.

“What is your concern!” The headmistress said, after pausing a moment in order to create calm.

“I was caned.” She said. “I am 24 years old, and I got spanked like a child.”

The headmistress sighed.

“At this school, all girls are subject to corporal punishment. Its just as much part of your education as learning biology or mathematics.”

“Yes.” Said Maria. “But I am an adult.”

“Being in school is about learning to obey, to face consequences, to deal with authority, and work among your peers. Getting a good thrashing is part of your education.”

Maria was shocked, and struck speechless.

“Maria.” She said. “Did you ever get spanked growing up?”

There was a pause. Maria spoke.

“I got the strap several times when I was working as a maid…”

“No.” Said the Headmistress. “Did you ever get spanked at home?”

“My father struck me…”

“No.” Said the Headmistress. “Spanked. Not slapped, not kicked, spanked. Lovingly corrected with a sore buttocks.”

After a pause, Maria spoke.


Then the headmistress lit up her face with a smile.

“Then as part of your education, I’m going to spank you. You’ve been caned, but never gotten a good, motherly spanking. That will change today.”

Maria was again shocked. She looked as if she were about to speak, but the headmistress interrupted her.

“If you don’t wish to be spanked, you can dematriculate.” She said, coldy.

So, Maria, sighed.

“What should I do miss?” She said.

“Pull your knickers down.” She said. “Lay over my lap. Think about your insolence, and your sense of being better than your sisters at this school.”

Maria then nervously lay herself across the headmistress lap.

With her shining black buttocks rounded and ready to be punished, Maria felt weak and frightened. Then the spanking began.

The headmistress gave her a number of hard slaps.

“When girls misbehave at this school, they learn a lesson on their bottoms! I’ll beat your bottom till its got a thousand bruises if need be. Girls at my school behave!”

The whacks continued. Hard. Fast.

Maria knew she couldn’t hold out for them to end. They were just going to rain down on her and there was nothing she could do.

She sobbed and screamed as the spanking got more intense, almost unbearable.

Finally, the slaps slowed down. Finally, after one last soft swat, the spanking was over.

Maria stood up, sobbing. The headmistress hugged her.

“Now go back to class. I think you’ve gotten a very valuable part of your education today.”

Relieved, Maria agreed.

When she returned to class, however, she remembered she had not gotten a pass from the headmistress. The teacher treated her as any other late student, and pulled the thick punishment belt from the desk.

“Hold out your hand.” The teacher had said.

Though her eyes were still wet with tears, and her buttocks was sore, she did not argue. She held her left hand out, as her teacher reared back the punishment strap.

She did not panic now. It was for her own good.

About hittitespanks

Young writer. Spanko since earliest memories. Stories. Dreams. Fantasies. Freedom.
This entry was posted in African/Black, Caning, F/f, Hand Spanking, School Discipline. Bookmark the permalink.

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