For bunking off cross-country (yet again) Potter had to stay after school for a very long, very brutal reminder not to dawdle again. Over the caning stool she whipped his back hard (not a recognised school punishment but most effective). He started making pathetic pained sounds when she took some serious leather to his arse and he began to breathe deeply. She was going to take sadistic pleasure in this and happily assured him that after school there was no rush. The prison strap, swung with determination at full stretch is a terrifying experience, the blistering cracks reverberating round the room. The old leather crop is almost as frightening (swung as she does). Finally it was over the horse for the cane. There has to be a caning. She adores caning. By the time she was done his arse was crimson and striped.
