There was an uncomfortable shuffling sound amongst the 200 other girls in the main hall as the younger girls, sitting in the ranks of chairs closest to the stage, turned to look round at the rows of older girls at the back.

Slowly, hesitantly, three of the sixth formers stood up, each looking sheepishly around the large hall as they did so.

"Miss Carol Chivers, Miss Fiona Schlum and Miss Rachel Fortnoy, stand up."

The headmaster, Edward Crimsley, stood gravely on the stage looking out over the assembled school. He was flanked by two other teachers who sat on chairs either side of him. In his right hand he held a solitary piece of paper. The paper was shaking in the teacher's hand for the teacher was angry. No, I apologise, he was not angry, he was livid.

"Miss Felicity McGyver, Miss Rebecca Mason and Miss Heather Linhouse, also stand up."GBP

In a minute there were nine girls all from the sixth form standing up, all of them looking sheepish. If after the first three names had been read there had been confusion in the girls' minds as to why they were being made to stand in the assembly, as the last three names were read, any confusion surely evaporated into thin air.

"You nine young ladies will report to my office immediately after this assembly. The rest of you will go to your first lessons of the morning and then you will all gather back in here at ten o'clock for a special assembly. Now, Mr Dickenson, you will kindly escort the nine young ladies to the waiting room next to my office while the rest of the school will sing "I Vow To Thee".

There was more shuffling as the nine selected pupils made their way to the end of the aisles in which they had been sitting. A few mumblings of "good luck" followed them, but in reality the whole school knew what was about to happen. It did, after all, happen at least once a year and had already happened the previous term when two girls had broken one of the strict rules of the school; but never before had any of the pupils witnessed nine of their number being called out at the same time.

"Come in," said Crimsley harshly, as he walked past the waiting area beside his office.

Silently the nine girls stood and trooped into the office behind the headmaster.

"You know why you are here, don't you?" He said, standing behind his desk, looking out over the pretty young girls standing nervously before him. A few nodded heads signified recognition. "Speak up girls," he added.

"Yes, sir," some of them mumbled.

"Well, just in case there is any doubt, you are here because en masse you were caught in the town yesterday in lunch break; not by one of my staff but by the local police and, according to them, three of you were caught with stolen property in your bags and the other six made false statements to try and protect them. So, we will start at one end, and work our way down the line. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Nothing sir," said Tammy Verica, the first in line. The other girls followed suit, which angered the headmaster that none of them were prepared to offer an explanation.

"Miss Schlum, why did you steal two bottles of perfume?"

"I, I needed to get something for my Mum's birthday, tomorrow."

"Well, stealing is not the answer, is it?"

"No, sir," the softly spoken 18 year old red-head with full breasts muttered.

"And you know the school's policy on theft, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, twelve strokes of the cane."

"Precisely, that is what we give to the younger girls. When you reach the sixth form and eighteen, matters are more serious. We could allow the police to deal with you direct, but as we know the officers who attended the incident, they have given the school first option to administer due punishment. If you would prefer to be dealt with by the police ..."

"No, sir, please don't do that. That would mean my parents find out and my Dad would go berserk with me."

"So, the alternative for you is a dozen strokes of the cane, a dozen by the plimsoll and a dozen with the leather tawse."

"My God that will kill me." Fiona Schlum had gone pale and tears were in her eyes at the pronouncement of her sentence.

"It won't, but it will leave a memory you will never forget. Miss Mason, you were caught stealing clothes in the same spree of criminal activity. An explanation please." Crimsley had sat down now as he turned his attention to the leggy blonde with pert breasts and shoulder length hair.

"I don't have one, sir. It was just on impulse."

"I see, well you too can either accept the same punishment as Miss Schlum or we will hand you back to the police."

"I'll take the punishment."

"I thought you might. Miss Linhouse, your explanation for the clothing you stole."

Heather Linhouse was also blonde, shorter and stockier than Rebecca Mason, and had a bosom that heaved as it tried to escape from behind her school blouse.

"Again, I don't have any explanation, sir," she said demurely.

"Same choice, police or punishment."

"Punishment, sir," she replied, her voice faltering.

"Very well, then. Now you other six are being treated as accomplices. So each of you will either be dealt with by the police or you will receive a dozen strokes of the cane and a dozen strokes of the tawse. If you want to be dealt with by the police, please go back to the waiting room now."

Not one girl moved. A sense of 'we're all in this together' seemed to have pervaded the group of girls and the six accomplices seemed determined to support the actual thieves by accepting their own punishments.

"In that case, the six accomplices will go and stand over by the long wall behind you. Turn to face the wall and put your hands on your heads. You three little thieves will first of all receive the dozen strokes of the plimsoll."