Friday, 20 August 2010

Miss Sidney

The long summer holidays see the school - usually busy with the movement of over one hundred quantly uniformed schoolgirls, its ancient walls resounding with the echoes of their girlish laughter - unnaturally still and quiet. The caretaker uses the time to splash some paint on the barest of classroom walls; the groundsman tends the winter sports pitches in preparation for the coming hockey and lacrosse season; most of the teachers disappear for several weeks not to be seen again until the start of term, and I enjoy the peace and quite of my study, attend to my memoirs and have a week by the sea at my sister's house in Frinton. But just a week. For the reins of Headship are not easily relinquished and although the summer vacation necessitates but the lightest hand on the tiller, I still prefer to remain on site and supervise the preparations for the new school year. But I would be lying if I were not to say that it can be a little lonely.

Although frequently to be found inflicting well-deserved pain upon their naked rears, I feel nevertheless that I am one of those rare teachers for whom the company of his or her charges is - on the whole - entirely enjoyable. I do so like the liveliness of school in term-time; I do so miss the adolescent chatter; I confess, I even miss the spankings. Far be it from me to join the ranks of those who take pleasure in inflicting punishment on tender young behinds, but the sight of a pair of taut buttocks exposed to the sharp admonishment of my senior rattan is nothing if not one of the perks of the job. Of course, my heart bleeds for the girls who burn with shame as they bare their bottoms and touch their toes; naturally I wince for them as the red weals encroach across the pale, virgin flesh; without question, I regret the reappearance in my study of the same girl, signaling the abject failure of a previous punishment.

But no matter. Twelve weeks of no spankings is not so great a hardship, especially if one is blessed with the company of one's young senior housemistress for much of the vacation. For Miss Sidney has abjured the joys of a south African winter for the gentler pleasure of an English summer, remaining in her quarters in the school house for all but the briefest of forays into town to meet with friends, or purchase some new shoes, or an outfit or some such similarly feminine entertainment. I confess it has been especially pleasant for me, as I have been able to plot and plan with the aid of a trusty lieutenant, and enjoy the company of one of the most able, intelligent and attractive colleagues it has ever been my pleasure with which to share a staffroom.

Miss Sidney and I have enjoyed strolls around the ample school grounds, a spin in my Rolls, cream teas in the local village, pints in the pub and late suppers in my study. We have also, on occasion, enjoyed the full range of those, ahem, more 'intimate' pleasures more often reserved for the conjugally conjoined. It has indeed been a blessed summer.

But you aren't hear to read of my contentment, are you? I suspect, given the number of followers whose avatars feature either their own or someone else's naked buttocks that you 'tune in' as-it-were to keep abreast of the spankings I administer, maybe pick up a tip or two and possibly comment on our never-ending need to inflict corporal punishment on shapely female rears. And I am not about to disappoint you.

You may recall some time ago my writing of one of the most shapely female rears it has ever been my pleasure to gaze upon, on the occasion of last year's school fete. Miss Sidney - our intrepid Housemistress - was prepared you may recall to bare and indeed bear all in the cause of our chapel roof, making a tidy sum by having the girls (and one or two boys) pay handsomely to whip her rump. Well of course, I have had the opportunity since that day to reacquaint myself with the curves and proportions of that pretty near perfect gluteous maximus on more than one occasion. I have already hinted at just such an occurrence in this very post. What I have not divulged, however, is the circumstances under which it befell me to imagine I had before me not the bottom of a shapely female colleague, but the rear of a contrite schoolgirl eager to receive the punishment she deserves. Those circumstances were thus.

I was at work late the other evening in my study when I heard a knock at my door.

'Why Miss Sidney!' I exclaimed. 'This is indeed a pleasure.'

She was wearing a rather small black dress of the kind frequently sported by young ladies of a more sophisticated disposition. As I had observed only the other evening, Miss S is nothing if not an athlete - a fact I knew of course thanks to witnessing her energetic spankings of her charges. I knew, of course, of her past in South Africa; I surmised she was no stranger to being on the receiving end of a thrashing; indeed, I imagined her stoicism at the school fete was borne of bitter experience.

We chatted for a while about this and that. I discussed my plan early next term to take a tour of neighbouring schools to better acquaint myself with their own disciplinary foibles. Miss Sidney readily agreed to my suggestion that she take the reigns of Headship in my absence. Then came the blow.

'But I feel I should admit to you, Headmaster,' she began solemnly, 'that I haven't always been worthy of your high opinion of me.'

'My dear?'

'No. I'm ashamed to say I've been rather slacking recently; I've only beaten half-a-dozen girls in the last term; I've still a pile of outstanding marking from my last three classes; and my house log is at least three weeks overdue.'

'My dear!' I began, 'We all know how stressful and busy those final weeks of term can be...'

But I was not allowed to continue.

'And that's not all, sir.'

I have to confess to a certain stirring in the loins at her use of the word 'sir'.

'No sir,' she went on. 'I'm afraid I've something rather serious to confess.'

'Go on,' I ventured in my most encouraging tone.

Miss Sidney then proceeded to regale me with the following information. It seems that the half-dozen or so spankings she admitted to administering during the summer term were not - as I assumed - inflicted on several different pairs of buttocks. Oh no. All six had been administered on the bare behind of Miss Sidney's House Prefect, for a variety of rather trivial misdemeanours and solely for the satisfaction my colleague received on witnessing this young lady's vulnerable nakedness.

'I mean, it's not as if I play for the opposition,' she went on. 'I'm not like Miss Andrews [she, dear readers, is the gym mistress] taking advantage of my position in the girls' locker room. I'm a healthy, red-blooded female [I could vouch for that] and I'm ashamed and puzzled by what's happened.'

'My dear,' I soothed, 'such things are by no means uncommon. Indeed, I have, on occasion, been obliged to instruct a well-thrashed girl to submit herself to a private, oral examination as a means of relieving the sexual tension. I understand.'

'You're too kind,' she replied. 'And you're a man; I'd find it hard to credit if you didn't get excited by the sight of a pair of shapely female buttocks. As for myself...'

The discussion went on at length, covering a wide-range of issues but it was clear no amount of rationalisation was going to suffice. Miss Sidney was naturally worried by this development - the first such of her teaching career - and was on the verge of handing over responsibility for corporal punishment in her House to her assistant before I made it clear that such a move was unnecessary as well as unacceptable.

'In that case,' Miss Sidney went on, 'there's only one thing for it. I shall have to be punished for what I've done. I need both to pay the price, and feel the pain by way of aversion therapy.'

She stood up and lifted the black dress up over her head, shaking her long brown hair and letting the garment fall to floor while standing before me, naked. I could not but enjoy the view. Her breasts pert, compact and focussed on a small, dark nipple; her pierced naval; the delicate cut-strip of dark hair above her neat pudendum; the long, tanned legs; that curious tattoo she sported on her ankle. I was in no mood to hurry things along.

'Will you beat me please, Headmaster? Will you whip me with the sjambok that I used so shamelessly on Keely Brooks? Will you hurt me, please? I deserve the pain; I need it. And I'd like you to be the one to inflict it. You have to be the one. You are the one.'

All the time she was making this little speech her gaze was as unflinching as it is when she takes aim with that wicked sjambok at a pair of adolescent buttocks. Her dark brown eyes spoke of sorrow, but also great determination. She knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it.

'Well, I dare say I could contrive to flick that damned leather thong at your backside a dozen times,' I answered.

'A dozen times?' she laughed. 'Oh no, Headmaster. You don't understand. I've been a wicked, wicked woman. I deserve the strictest punishment.'

'What do you suggest?' I asked.

She looked, for the first time in the entire exchange, at the floor momentarily. Then she straightened up, stretched her arms and ran her hands through her hair and announced, 'one hundred...'

'My dear...'

'... and fifty.'

She held my gaze again, defying me to contradict her. My mind was in turmoil. I was torn between an urgent desire to take Miss Sidney in my arms, and the need to administer the justice she so craved. But the thought of over one hundred lashes with that wicked implement left me cold; I had no desire to permanently scar the smooth olive skin of those perfect curves, as such a punishment would inevitably entail. She could sense my misgivings.

'I know this must be difficult,' she went on. 'I know how hard it's going to be, but you must see that it is the only way.'

'I'm afraid I couldn't possibly...'

'Please!' she demanded, and for the first time I could see traces of anxiety in her eyes. She looked down at the floor as tears began to well up and flow. Suddenly, she picked up her dress and ran from my study. The silence must have lasted for, oh, at least fifteen minutes before my attention was distracted by a knock at the study door. Miss Sidney entered, wearing nothing but stockings, suspenders and a black lacy bra. And in her hands, proffered to me as she stepped towards me was the wicked five foot length of pleated tan-leather rhino hide I was to whip her with.

I sighed, and rose from my chair.

'Very well, Miss Sidney, if you insist. Bend over!'

 

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