A little judicial punishment from the British Isles, as three rowdy young college ladies get the tawse and the cane from an entirely unsympathetic public employee:
I picked up the tawse, and moved to her left side. Holding the handle in my right hand, and the other end in my left, I draw my arms upwards, holding the tawse out before moving my left hand away and arcing it down across the her backside. She yelped — whether through the shock of the blow, or the pain that must by now be starting to radiate out across her behind, I didn’t know. I looked with satisfaction at the red outline that the tawse had formed — perfectly horizontal, right across the centre of her buttocks. Very good, I thought to myself: practice clearly does make perfect.
The other thing about the first stroke, of course, was the impact it would have on those waiting on the other side of the door. Up to that point, they had doubtless been straining to hear the conversation, wondering whether they would be in for a “workshop or a whipping”, as I termed it. Well, they would know now, all right.
I liked to deliver the second and third strokes in quick succession, aiming them directly on top of one another, below the first mark. With young Samantha, these were beauties, and she let out a cry of surprise as the third stroke descended. Her breathing was deep now – trying to keep control; trying not to give in to the ever-increasing pain.
I paused, making sure the effects of the previous strokes had had their full effect, and building the tension in the room as the girl braced herself for the next blow, not sure when it would land. And then: a beauty. Low down. Hard. Very satisfying: I do like the sound of the tawse as it cracks across its target. And a real sob from the young offender, as the blow struck home.
From Serving Her Majesty by Abel Jenkins.