New Prefects

Busy just doesn't adequately describe the current state of affairs here in school, and as you may have noticed, I have hardly had the time to write any new posts. Dear Lord above, some days I have hardely even had the time to write my entries in the punishment book, there have been so many. The warm summer weather we have been enjoying recently seems to have gone to the girls' heads. Uniform infringements have been an almost daily occurance and there have been other, more serious, transgressions necessitating the administration of more strokes of the cane to one girl's bare bottom than it has ever been my misfortune to apply. But I digress. Having not the time to update you on our doings here, I have invited one of our new Year 12 prefects to write a guest post describing an unfortunate incident which certainly tested her authority, as well as endurance. She writes...


I was proud so to be appointed as a school prefect last term. I take my duties very seriously. Whereas some of the others wander round their duty area, sniff the air and stroll back to the sixth-form common room, I stay out all break, walking up and down, making sure that no-one misbehaves. It's my job. I do it well. I take a pride in what I do. Once or twice I catch somebody where they shouldn't be; I send them on their way. Occasionally, somebody might argue - then I sent them to stand inside outside the staffroom where they had to wait for the captain to take their names. Only once recently have I had any serious problems, and that was earlier this term.

For some reason I had changed my duty area. Instead of walking round the yard and making sure that no-one strayed onto the grass, I was at the back of school, behind the boiler room, where no-one should have been at all. But the boiler-house was the equivilent of the bike-sheds in our school. If any mischief was to take place, that would have to be the setting. There were enormous bins to hide behind, and small, low walls to duck beneath. The area was like a maze. Hiding was easy, which was why the area was usually patrolled by two prefects. But that day, there was only me.

I rushed straight there as soon as I got out of lessons. Arriving early and preventing trouble seems to be the best way of approaching any situation. But I was at the other end of school, and by the time I got to my duty area anyone with lessons nearby would already have arrived and be well hidden. As I raced along the corridor I had visions of the fifth-formers locked in clinches hiding behind every corner. So when I opened the door and walked outside I was relieved to see that there was no-one there. I walked around to check. Nothing. No sign of anyone. I walked back to the door and made to go inside. And then I heard it. Somebody was giggling, well not giggling, trying not to but not quite succeeding. I stepped back into the yard and stopped. No sound. I had imagined it. No. There it was again, two voices this time, coming from behind the fence that surrounded the base of the chimney. I marched towards the sound, making as much noise as I could. I was cross. I wanted them to hear me coming. But they didn't. Or at least, I assume they hadn't given the state of undress they were in. Let me describe what I saw as I stepped around the far side of the fence. Two sixth-formers in an intimate embrace, the girl with her skirt lifted and her knickers round her ankles, the boy with his belt undone and trousers round his ankles. I walked over to them, expecting them at any moment to break off, to look ashamed, to say sorry, something. But they just carried on. And as I stepped towards them I could see the boy's hand moving slowly and rhythmically up and down the girl's crotch. Slowly, methodically, rhythmically, sexily.

"You two!" I shouted. "What do you think you're up to?"

The girl looked up.

"Oh" she said, surprised. "Where's Jessica?"

"Away," I said, not knowing if she was. "She sometimes joins us" said the other. "You can if you want to, as she's not here."

Jessica was Head Girl. Something in the way the girl looked at me, and in the way she spoke persuaded me she weren't exactly lying.

"The Headmaster will hear of this," I told them. I was shocked.

"Fuck off!" the boy said before he clamped his open mouth to the girls lips.

I grabbed his shoulder.

"Want some, do you?" He turned and scowled at me.

"Get dressed - now!" I ordered.

"Come on Jen" the he said. "She'll only make it worse for us," and he started buttoning up his shirt.

"Ok, then. Have it your way," said the girl. "We'll see what Jessica has to say when she gets back to school."

"Oh no we won't" I said, and marched them straight to the Headmaster.

The Headmaster at our school - who you know, of course -  is in his forties I suppose, tall and suntanned with small a beard. Of course I'd heard about his punishments, even seen some of them on stage. I'd seen the marks they left on girls' bare bottoms when they were in the showers after PE. But I never dreamt I'd witness one at such close quarters.

After listening to my description of events, The Headmaster told them they were going to be punished, and punished severely.

"You know how," he said to them.

He reached behind a cupboard and took out a long, thin yellow cane. I made to leave.

"No, stay" he told me. "I think you should see what happens to pupils who are rude to prefects."

He pointed to a place just on the edge of the large square carpet in the middle of his study.

"Now, you two are going to get the cane" he told the misceants. "Who wants to go first?"

Neither of them spoke. They both looked at the floor.

"Well, it had better be you then" he said, pointing to the girl.

"What's wrong?" he asked her. "You had plenty to say when you were apprehended, didn't you?"

He told her to take two steps forward, so that she was standing in the middle of the study.

The girl did as she was told.

"Now, remove your skirt" he said. She fumbled with the zip, and then stepped out of it. She looked up at him.

"Place it on the chair" he told her, pointing to it with his stick. "Then come back here and touch your toes". She quickly walked to the chair, and placed her folded navy pleated skirt across the arm.

"No" he said to her as she bent over, "I said touch your toes. Now, bend right over - do it properly" He waited for her to do exactly as he asked. Then he stepped towards her, placed his thumbs in the elastic waistband of her knickers and tugged them down sharply.

"I think we'll do this properly today" he said, "don't you?" The girl nodded silently. "And you," he nodded to the boy, "can stand over there and count." He clearly wanted him to have a good view, just like me. He wanted him to see what was happening, what was going to be happening soon to him.

The head stepped to one side and began measuring the cane across the girls bare buttocks. I saw everything. Her bottom, obviously. But her crack as well, just bulging out between her legs a little bit; the pink lips protruding through some wispy strands of hair like soft pink rose petals. "How many strokes do you think she deserves?" the Head asked me. I shrugged. I didn't know. 'Six, maybe?' I suggested. I thought that six was what you got. Six of the best, I'd heard them say. But I was wrong.

"Oh no," he shook his head. "I think that's far too lenient, don't you?" he asked the boy. He didn't answer.

"I said, don't you think six a little lenient, young man?"

"Yes, sir" the boy mumbled quietly.

"You see, young lady - even your boyfriend thinks that you deserve the strictest punishment". He swished the cane a few times in the air. The girl squeezed her cheeks together.

"I think we'll give you twelve, young lady" he announced, "and you can have another six on top of that for being cheeky." Her face flushed and her mouth fell open.

"You will call each stroke out nice and loudly, thanking me each time. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir" she replied.

The head took aim. He tapped the cane across the taut white mounds of flesh, then drew it back, then tapped again. The girl flinched, but the headmaster wasn't ready. He was aiming carefully. 'I want you to remember this, young lady'. Then with a rush of air he finally brought down the cane across her buttocks. The noise cracked like a rifle shot. It must have hurt - the girl shot up and grabbed her bottom with both hands, digging in her nails.

'BEND OVER' shouted the headmaster. And stay down. Do as I tell you, and count each stroke out loud. If you forget, that stroke won't count.' I'm sorry sir, the girl sobbed. 'And?' he went on. 'One, sir - thank you sir.' she sniffed and bent forward once again. The next stroke made a lightening white line flash across the pale cream of her flesh, which then immediately turned red. The headmasters aim was good. 'Two, thank-you sir' the girl called out, then 'Three' and 'Four' and 'Five' and there was now a burning grid of red across both cheeks, as if straight lines had been drawn across her buttocks with a lipstick. Number six cut down diagonally across the other stripes, making a pattern like a five-barred gate. 'Six, thank you sir' the girl called out through gritted teeth. 'I think we'll pause there, for a moment' said the Head, tapping the back of the girls bare legs. 'You may stand up for a moment'. The girl stood up, and twisted her head to see the damage to her bottom. The boy stood watching her, no doubt contemplating what was soon to come to him. Their eyes met, briefly. Faint traces of a wry smile flickered on the corner of the girls lips. She rubbed the cheeks a little, but there wasn't much that she could do. As she bent down once again, she placed her legs apart and turned slightly, as if to give her boyfriend an even better view.

The next six strokes were counted out and then again the Head allowed the girl to rub her bottom.

"Unless you would like to do it for her?" he asked the boy, sarcastically. I caught their eye. They would have done. They would love to. There was something about what was happening that they both found a tiny bit exciting.
'Right, young lady - stand there in the corner. Your turn now' he said to the boy. 'Bend over' and the boy stepped forward, and immediately bent down to touch his toes. 'Oh, no' said the headmaster. 'That will never do. Your girlfriend didn't have the protection of her skirt and knickers, did she?' The boy shook his head. 'Stand up, and take your trousers down'. The boy stood up, and started loosening the button of his trousers. He looked across at me, then stopped. 'Not shy, are you Appleby?' the Head asked, seeing the direction of his gaze. 'You weren't shy when this young lady found you, were you?' 'No, sir' said the boy. 'Neither were you shy of giving your opinion, were you Appleby?' 'No sir' the boy replied. 'Which is precisely why you'll be getting six more strokes than your young lady. Now, bend over.' The boy stepped into the middle, with his trousers round his ankles. The headmaster pulled his pants down, then took aim. This time he drew the cane up high above his head and sliced the air and cut into the buttocks with enormous force. Blood filled the red line he had made. 'One, thank you sir' the boy responded. Stroke two was even harder. And stroke three was harder still. The girl turned round to see. The noise was terrifying. The fourth stroke missed the buttocks, slicing across the top of the thighs instead. 'Ow! Thank you sir, four - thank you, sir' The boy grunted. Five and six hit the same line made by one and two. The line was swollen now, and tiny spots of blood began to trickle down the smooth flesh. 'Seven, thank you - ahh, sir'. 'One more then' said the Head. 'Eight, thank - you - sir'. The boy stood up and limped over the corner. 'Stand there, face the wall, hands on head'. Miss Lacy, it is now your turn again,' he said. Jen's knickers were still around her ankles. She shuffled to the middle of the room. 'Lets get rid of these' the Head said, hooking them onto the end of the cane.

'Now, how many have you got to come?'

Six, sir' she said.

'Well then' and he tapped the floor, then bent the stick against her back, encouraging her down.

Six more' he said, and tapped the poor girls bottom. He seemed almost to be searching for a fresh white bit of skin. The red had spread across her buttocks like a tan. He tapped the yellow cane across the topmost of her thighs, ust where they meet the bum. 'We'l try here' he said, then lifted up the cane as high as he could go. Then - thwack - it hit exactly at the spot he'd aimed. 'One, thank you sir' the girl said.

'One?' he asked 'Eleven more to come, then?'

'No sir, I mean seven sir, thank you sir'

'That's better' and he tapped the swollen little line the first stroke he had given her had made.

Ow! Eight, sir - I mean, thank you sir!'

Then nine was back on the girls bare legs, and ten. He was trying not to cut her. But her legs were softer and would hurt more. For the last two strokes he tapped the middle of her bum again, the peak of the flesh as it stretched out over her thigh bone like a taut sheet. 'Te-e-en, thank you sir' she stuttered. 'I mean eleven, thank you' 'One more then, said Mr Lacy. Better make it a good one, hadn't we?' Without waiting for an answer, he stepped back two paces, then ran up and sliced the cane across the flesh.

'Twelve, thank you sir' she shouted, panting slightly, still bent over

'Ok, put these back on' the Head said as the girl stood up, flicking up her knickers with the cane 'and stand there, in the corner. Put your hands on your head and face the wall.'

You, next, boy he added, hurrying through the punishment, having suddenly seemed to lose interest. When he had finished, he invited me to stay and sent the others back to lessons.

So, Miss Gordon, what did you think? he asked. I didn't know what to say. 'Very good, sir' I replied inadequately. 'Good - you approve, then'

'Yes, sir' I replied. He started fingering some papers on his desk.

'Never had the cane, I see' he said.

'I haven't, sir' I told him.

'Far too well behaved' he said, not entirely approvingly. I said nothing.

'It would be a shame to leave the school without experiencing everything it has to offer, don't you think? he asked me.

'And nobody is perfect, are they Keely?'

I sat with my hands between my knees and shook my head.

'So you must have once done something wrong, something that you got away with, donlt you think?'

'I...I suppose so, sir,' I muttered.

'And it would be wrong not to get what you deserve - unfair, don't you agree?'

'Er ... yes' I said.

'So, tell me Keely. What misdemeanours haven't we found out about?' he asked.

'I don't know, sir' I said.

'Oh come, now' he replied. 'Don't be coy. You've just agreed there must be something.' then he paused. 'Or maybe there are so many that you can't remember?'

'No' I shouted, but my mind was still a blank. I had to think of something. But I couldn't.

'No homeworks copied?'

'No, sir!'

'No cheating in exams?'

'Sir!'

'Or on cross-ccountry runs?'

I caught his eye. A look as if he knew already. I hung my head.

'You see, I knew there would be something, didn't I? when was it? In the first-form?'

And I nodded.

'The short-cut?' he enquired.

'Yes, sir' I replied. 'It wasn't only me, sir, though' I looked at him imploringly 'and it was so cold; I coulnd't run that far again, sir. I'd have died'

'I know, I know' he said. 'I understand. It happens all the time.' he said. 'Miss Peacock brings the girls to me, and I watch as she slippers them, and it's forgotten. Not a problem.'

Good, I thought.

But youlre now in the sixth-form. Youlre a prefect. You should set an example to the school, he told me. That makes it a bit more serious, he told me.

'Really, sir?'

'I'm afraid, so yes' he said.

'The slipper is for small girls, anyway' he said. 'as you well know. You don't think I'd have caned Miss Marchant if she'd been a junior, do you?'

No, sir I replied, of course...

'And you surely don't think I should slipper you? he went on.

There was no reply.

'Well then' he sighed 'the cane it is'. He got up and went over to the corner.

'Now, you've seen what happens Keely,' he said. 'I'd be obliged if you would step out here and touch your toes.

I looked at him.

'Yes, Miss Lacy, with your knickers down if you please.'

I lifted up my skirt and then I bared my bottom quickly, bending over at the same time as if somehow that would make the move less shaming. With my hand on my knees I stood there, waiting for the first touch of the cold cane. But it didn't come.

'How many stroke doe you think such a crime deserves?' I heard him ask.

'Er, six?' I said again.

'Six of the best!' he said and then he tapped my buttocks. 'But that would be what you deserved back then' he went on. 'You're so much older, now - and wiser. Therefore such a misedemeanour is more serious' he went on. was he going to ask for more. Eight? Ten, perhaps, or twelve? How was I to answer?

'But there is your record to consider, too' he went on. 'You've been a model pupil. Honours and achievements in every sphere of school activity. And this little incident was a long, long time ago,' he said. He tapped the cane against my skin. I flinchd, and my knickers - which I had peeled down just far enought to show my cheeks and nothing more, slid down to my knees.

'Right, six it is' he told me. Are you ready?

'Yes sir'

'Well then, bend right over. Touch you toes, Miss Lacy.'

As I did I felt my cheeks part and my vulva suddenly exposed. My bum was small. The flesh stretched tight across the bone just like the boys had done. The girl had much more padding. I wondered if it was that - rather than the force of the cane strokes - which drew blood. I was aboout too find out. I who had never even been son much as spanked at school before. The House Prefect and form-captain; Keely Lacy, whose names was up in gold on all the honours boards for music, for achievement, for service to the school, for netball. And now, one final school achievement was being added to a long list. I was about to get a bare bum caning, just like all the others. It was my turn. I had had to wait so long. But here I was, my bottom pointing upwards for inspection and a hiding. The hiding of my life. The yellow stick that I'd just seen slice into the flesh of Jenny Mumby and Richard Appleby was now about to whip down into mine.

'Call out every stroke' he told me.

And I did.