Seamus spent his morning talking with a group of men who were about to make a sales trip to London. They spoke reasonably good formal English, so he spent his time teaching them jokes and pointing out some of the less intuitive pieces of English slang. He told them the words “hyperbole” and “litotes”, and explained that in Britain, unlike America, an ounce of litotes was worth a tonne of hyperbole.

He felt he’d done well and went to lunch feeling he was a tolerably clever man who knew what he was doing. As two approached he finished his tea and sushi and arrived at the English Course Room (Eigo Kyōshitsu). He carried Gentaro’s cane, though it made him feel faintly awkward.

Fifteen “students” waited for him, six young men and nine young women. The women outnumbered the men because they were expected to write more letters to customers – or take Japanese-language dictation from the company’s senior staff, turning it into English text. They’d probably heard about his disappointing conduct the night before – the young men would have too – so they were surprised to see him with the cane.

He let them into the room, then stood at the front and flexed the cane, glowering fiercely. He assumed that was the right approach. “Some of you have not been taking this course seriously,” he said. “You will remember that you are being paid to learn good business English, and that I am being paid to teach you. To disrespect me, or my lessons, is to disrespect the company. From now on, if I feel I have to remind any of you of this, it will be a very painful lesson.”

As Gentaro had suggested, he carried the cane into the storeroom as if it were a sceptre of office. He put it on the desk, the top obviously polished by the clothes or bellies of many English students over the years. He collected the day’s homework, until he came to Yua.

She looked up at him, innocent and wide-eyed so he could admire her green and pink eyeshadow. “I’m sorry, Sensei. I did the work. But a fox chased me … I was very afraid of her. I lost my paper.”

So he found himself saying, “You’ve disrespected me by lying to me. And again by expecting me to believe such a silly story. And you didn’t do the work, did you?”

Her tongue appeared between her lips as she shook her head. “Those foxes! They can be very fierce! If you’d been with me you’d have seen her. And then you’d have chased her away, Sensei. After all ,you’re very brave.”

She looked triumphant. She meant his failure to accept her offer last night.

“Right, that’s enough from you, Yua. Go and stand in the corner, since you haven’t prepared for this lesson. And after class I’ll see you in the storeroom.”

Yua rose and took her place in the corner. She wore very tight little white pants, cut high at the back to reveal the crease where her buttocks and thighs met. She put her hands on her head unasked, accentuating that display. She never quite stood still, but she did not seem unhappy.

He began the day’s lesson, which was about things English people said and never meant, like “you must come for dinner some time.” But after a while Chiaki raised her hand.

“Chiaki?”

“Sensei, are you going to cane Yua very hard?”

He tightened his lips, annoyed. “Yes, I am. Now if you’re in a meeting with English customers or suppliers -”

“Is the cane going to land on those shorts? Or on Yua?”

“I’ll decide later. It depends how she behaves herself. Chiaki, this is your own last warning: be quiet. Now if the people at your meeting are late, it doesn’t mean the disrespect that could mean in Japan. The English can seem casual about -”

“Mr Robbins used to make Yua take off everything when he caned her.”

So that was the name of his predecessor, not that it mattered. “Right, Chiaki. Fetch the cane. Bring it to me, and then bend over my desk.”

Chiaki rose, having achieved her goal. She too wore high-cut little shorts, though hers were maroon and apparently velvet. As she had in his apato, she wiggled with every step she took, knowing there was no one in that room who wasn’t watching her. Except Yua, nose in the corner, of course.

Seamus considered apologising to the class for the interruption. But he knew that none of the male students, and probably none of the young women, would be anything but happy to watch Chiaki caned. Chiaki returned from the storeroom, still a-wiggle, and smiled sweetly at him. Her mouth formed a kiss, though she made no sound. She carried the cane over her shoulder like a wooden soldier might carry a rifle.

She offered it to him, holding it in both hands, then went to his desk. She put her hands on the surface and lowered herself.

“Should I take down these pants, Sensei? You’ll want to be able to aim at the target properly.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he wasn’t capable of thinking clearly. “Yes,” he said. Then, quickly, he added, “But leave your underwear on.”

Undoing the shorts took much wriggling, of course, then she lowered them slowly to below her knees. Her bottom was almost entirely bare, except for what seemed to be a string across her lower back and a tiny black strip between her plumply perfect, golden brown bottom. She must have heard from Asuka that he’d acquired a cane. He expected she’d planned this moment then, and she’d have changed in the toilets to be ready for it. Thongs were still a new fashion in 1980, but Chiaki, like Yua, was the sort of girl who’d be the first to acquire a pair or two. She held on to the edge of the desk and arched her bottom up.

Seamus realised he should have expected some such provocation, especially from Chiaki. He stepped to the side of his desk and tapped the cane against Chiaki’s immensely cute, incredibly desirable (no! he thought; he wasn’t to think about that!) bottom.

“You’re to count the strokes out loud, Chiaki. And after each one I want to hear you say you’re sorry for being a bad girl, and that from now on you’ll behave yourself.”

He was sure this would not make her any less inclined towards mischief.

But this was a ritual, and he knew his part in it, and hers. He tapped her bottom again, aimed carefully for the plumpest, roundest flesh, raised the cane and struck.

Chiaki jolted though she held her place, and she cried out in surprise and pain. A second later the stripe formed, running diagonally down her left buttock and catching her right thigh. He assumed the mark on her thigh hurt more than she’d expected, or he’d meant. She took a breath to control herself before she said, “One, thank you, Sensei. I’m sorry I’ve been trouble for you, and I promise I’ll behave myself from now.”

He doubted that. He crossed the desk to deliver the next stroke backhand. It caught her right cheek and some of her left, but left another dark red stripe across her thigh. He nodded, satisfied. He’d meant to strike her thigh this time. He waited for Chiaki to count, and deliver her thanks (which he’d forgotten to ask for), her apology and her promise to behave. The third stroke he managed to lay with reasonable accuracy on her underbum, avoiding her thighs.

Chiaki yelped loudly, and there was a sniffle in her voice when she made her little speech. Seamus nodded. “You’d better learn from this, my girl.”

The next stroke cut across the backs of her thighs, an inch below the crease of her bottom. She wailed in the pain of it, and it took some time before she could speak her lines.

He crossed to the left of his desk to deliver the last two. He laid them across her bottom, making sure the last stung deep. His aim had improved, partly because her stripes told him where a particular angle of stroke was likely to land.

He took up position behind his desk to address the class. But Chiaki still sobbed loudly. Mascaraed tears ran down her face, and she spoke quickly to get her last count and her apologies and promise out before she gave herself over to tears. She had run out of bravado, at least for the moment.

“This has been a lesson for all of you, not just Chiaki. Do your work diligently, or, man or woman, you’ll find yourself in Chiaki’s position. Is that clearly understood?” There were wide-eyed nods and murmurs of assent from everyone.

“Chiaki, go and stand beside Yua. I’ll see both of you in the storeroom after this lesson.”

“I’m not finished, Sensei?”

“You’re not finished, Chiaki.”

She straightened up painfully, and yelped again as the movement reawakened the stripes. “Do I have to pull my shorts up again, Sensei?”

Seamus considered that. That would of course be painful for her, and in his current mood there was something to be said for that. But she’d be less decorative with her stripes covered. “No. There’s no need. You’d only have to take them off again in the storeroom anyway. Go!”

Chiaki moved, snuffling over to the corner beside Yua. As she crossed the room she wiggled at him. He was amazed how fast she’d recovered her spirit.

All that was needed now… “Stand up, Asuka.”

She looked at him, surprised, innocent. “Me, Sensei? I haven’t done anything bad. I gave you my homework.”

“I told you to stand up, not argue with me. Go and join Yua and Chiaki now. I’ll  see you in the stockroom too.”

She stared at him for a moment, then hastened to her place next to Chiaki. Seamus allowed himself a smile. They really were three very pretty girls. He turned to the class. “At the start of a business meeting an English person may ask you how your flight was. They don’t care. The polite answer is always, ‘Oh, good, thanks.’ Then ask them a question you don’t care about, like where in England they come from. Now –”

Behind him, Chiaki snuffled again.