tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73853440747633703372024-03-13T08:05:22.917-07:00The Headmaster's StudyThe Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-71199811525482843772010-08-20T06:00:00.000-07:002010-08-20T06:00:01.747-07:00Miss SidneyThe 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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
I was at work late the other evening in my study when I heard a knock at my door. <br />
<br />
'Why Miss Sidney!' I exclaimed. 'This is indeed a pleasure.'<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
'My dear?'<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
'My dear!' I began, 'We all know how stressful and busy those final weeks of term can be...'<br />
<br />
But I was not allowed to continue. <br />
<br />
'And that's not all, sir.'<br />
<br />
I have to confess to a certain stirring in the loins at her use of the word 'sir'.<br />
<br />
'No sir,' she went on. 'I'm afraid I've something rather serious to confess.'<br />
<br />
'Go on,' I ventured in my most encouraging tone.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
'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...'<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
'Well, I dare say I could contrive to flick that damned leather thong at your backside a dozen times,' I answered.<br />
<br />
'A dozen times?' she laughed. 'Oh no, Headmaster. You don't understand. I've been a wicked, wicked woman. I deserve the strictest punishment.'<br />
<br />
'What do you suggest?' I asked.<br />
<br />
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...'<br />
<br />
'My dear...'<br />
<br />
'... and fifty.'<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
'I'm afraid I couldn't possibly...'<br />
<br />
'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.<br />
<br />
I sighed, and rose from my chair.<br />
<br />
'Very well, Miss Sidney, if you insist. Bend over!'<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwm4K1tKVhU_UFY7wPE148nvyvwgZqer-aTM_ilg9iXM8bTe1KYffC7Gq4IGnG1hZIN5z-5FXFLOhAXsbxrSTAaIt-rsW7q6QDVROqupBcrzz92m25kgA3erxLSvQPSCayFtGe_1udsNsy/s1600/C21_18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwm4K1tKVhU_UFY7wPE148nvyvwgZqer-aTM_ilg9iXM8bTe1KYffC7Gq4IGnG1hZIN5z-5FXFLOhAXsbxrSTAaIt-rsW7q6QDVROqupBcrzz92m25kgA3erxLSvQPSCayFtGe_1udsNsy/s400/C21_18.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-39115066863936773202010-07-16T02:06:00.000-07:002010-07-16T02:06:51.335-07:00New PrefectsBusy 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...<br />
<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
"You two!" I shouted. "What do you think you're up to?" <br />
<br />
The girl looked up. <br />
<br />
"Oh" she said, surprised. "Where's Jessica?" <br />
<br />
"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." <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
"The Headmaster will hear of this," I told them. I was shocked. <br />
<br />
"Fuck off!" the boy said before he clamped his open mouth to the girls lips. <br />
<br />
I grabbed his shoulder. <br />
<br />
"Want some, do you?" He turned and scowled at me. <br />
<br />
"Get dressed - now!" I ordered. <br />
<br />
"Come on Jen" the he said. "She'll only make it worse for us," and he started buttoning up his shirt. <br />
<br />
"Ok, then. Have it your way," said the girl. "We'll see what Jessica has to say when she gets back to school."<br />
<br />
"Oh no we won't" I said, and marched them straight to the Headmaster. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
After listening to my description of events, The Headmaster told them they were going to be punished, and punished severely. <br />
<br />
"You know how," he said to them. <br />
<br />
He reached behind a cupboard and took out a long, thin yellow cane. I made to leave. <br />
<br />
"No, stay" he told me. "I think you should see what happens to pupils who are rude to prefects."<br />
<br />
He pointed to a place just on the edge of the large square carpet in the middle of his study. <br />
<br />
"Now, you two are going to get the cane" he told the misceants. "Who wants to go first?" <br />
<br />
Neither of them spoke. They both looked at the floor. <br />
<br />
"Well, it had better be you then" he said, pointing to the girl. <br />
<br />
"What's wrong?" he asked her. "You had plenty to say when you were apprehended, didn't you?" <br />
<br />
He told her to take two steps forward, so that she was standing in the middle of the study. <br />
<br />
The girl did as she was told. <br />
<br />
"Now, remove your skirt" he said. She fumbled with the zip, and then stepped out of it. She looked up at him. <br />
<br />
"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. <br />
<br />
"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. <br />
<br />
"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. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
"Oh no," he shook his head. "I think that's far too lenient, don't you?" he asked the boy. He didn't answer. <br />
<br />
"I said, don't you think six a little lenient, young man?" <br />
<br />
"Yes, sir" the boy mumbled quietly. <br />
<br />
"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. <br />
<br />
"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. <br />
<br />
"You will call each stroke out nice and loudly, thanking me each time. Do you hear me?" <br />
<br />
"Yes, sir" she replied. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'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. <br />
<br />
The next six strokes were counted out and then again the Head allowed the girl to rub her bottom. <br />
<br />
"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. <br />
'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.<br />
<br />
'Now, how many have you got to come?'<br />
<br />
Six, sir' she said.<br />
<br />
'Well then' and he tapped the floor, then bent the stick against her back, encouraging her down. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'One?' he asked 'Eleven more to come, then?'<br />
<br />
'No sir, I mean seven sir, thank you sir'<br />
<br />
'That's better' and he tapped the swollen little line the first stroke he had given her had made. <br />
<br />
Ow! Eight, sir - I mean, thank you sir!'<br />
<br />
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.<br />
<br />
'Twelve, thank you sir' she shouted, panting slightly, still bent over<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
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'<br />
<br />
'Yes, sir' I replied. He started fingering some papers on his desk. <br />
<br />
'Never had the cane, I see' he said.<br />
<br />
'I haven't, sir' I told him. <br />
<br />
'Far too well behaved' he said, not entirely approvingly. I said nothing. <br />
<br />
'It would be a shame to leave the school without experiencing everything it has to offer, don't you think? he asked me. <br />
<br />
'And nobody is perfect, are they Keely?'<br />
<br />
I sat with my hands between my knees and shook my head. <br />
<br />
'So you must have once done something wrong, something that you got away with, donlt you think?'<br />
<br />
'I...I suppose so, sir,' I muttered. <br />
<br />
'And it would be wrong not to get what you deserve - unfair, don't you agree?'<br />
<br />
'Er ... yes' I said. <br />
<br />
'So, tell me Keely. What misdemeanours haven't we found out about?' he asked. <br />
<br />
'I don't know, sir' I said.<br />
<br />
'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?'<br />
<br />
'No' I shouted, but my mind was still a blank. I had to think of something. But I couldn't. <br />
<br />
'No homeworks copied?'<br />
<br />
'No, sir!'<br />
<br />
'No cheating in exams?'<br />
<br />
'Sir!'<br />
<br />
'Or on cross-ccountry runs?'<br />
<br />
I caught his eye. A look as if he knew already. I hung my head. <br />
<br />
'You see, I knew there would be something, didn't I? when was it? In the first-form?'<br />
<br />
And I nodded. <br />
<br />
'The short-cut?' he enquired. <br />
<br />
'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'<br />
<br />
'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.'<br />
<br />
Good, I thought. <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'Really, sir?'<br />
<br />
'I'm afraid, so yes' he said. <br />
<br />
'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?'<br />
<br />
No, sir I replied, of course...<br />
<br />
'And you surely don't think I should slipper you? he went on. <br />
<br />
There was no reply. <br />
<br />
'Well then' he sighed 'the cane it is'. He got up and went over to the corner. <br />
<br />
'Now, you've seen what happens Keely,' he said. 'I'd be obliged if you would step out here and touch your toes.<br />
<br />
I looked at him.<br />
<br />
'Yes, Miss Lacy, with your knickers down if you please.' <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'How many stroke doe you think such a crime deserves?' I heard him ask. <br />
<br />
'Er, six?' I said again.<br />
<br />
'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? <br />
<br />
'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. <br />
<br />
'Right, six it is' he told me. Are you ready? <br />
<br />
'Yes sir'<br />
<br />
'Well then, bend right over. Touch you toes, Miss Lacy.' <br />
<br />
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. <br />
<br />
'Call out every stroke' he told me. <br />
<br />
And I did. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2922ioQXQTn8Ysh3Kr0QZR8Tn7bBW7dHM-TfInlOiRuYDrwYsx6-OIWBfDSkAZIpc-DpIH1nzJv_TFEVEZIDdpJZWxUUOztuWn3DaEEr8Bp-RZIx58l_Qox9mXSXUMgCH6mP3I0oZL7RV/s1600/Cane(F)_127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2922ioQXQTn8Ysh3Kr0QZR8Tn7bBW7dHM-TfInlOiRuYDrwYsx6-OIWBfDSkAZIpc-DpIH1nzJv_TFEVEZIDdpJZWxUUOztuWn3DaEEr8Bp-RZIx58l_Qox9mXSXUMgCH6mP3I0oZL7RV/s320/Cane(F)_127.jpg" /></a></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-74465472520232324912010-04-30T01:42:00.000-07:002010-04-30T02:51:33.062-07:00New intake dayI thought I'd better stop by and pen a brief up-date on our activities here in the countryside. Nothing of significance has happened lately, unless you count the morning I had to cane the entire fifth-form for their collective misbehaviour the previous evening. Indeed, it was a very good job things had been rather quiet in the punishment department since that little al fresco flogging I described in my last post, otherwise my poor right arm would barely have been able to maintain the strength to wield the cane across three dozen different bottoms in a single morning!<br />
<br />
Mind you, such occasions are as nothing compared to whole-school canings of yesteryear, days when - merely to maintain the deterrent effect of corporal punishment - every girl would mount the stage at the front of the assembly hall and be reminded of what fate awaited her if she transgressed during the coming academic year. Ah yes, in my younger days I could deliver six stinging blows across a couple of hundred bare backsides and still have the energy to take the remainder of the day off and play eighteen holes of the school golf course, where the swish of my wood on the tee would remind each girl, sitting rarely gingerly on wooden chairs in classrooms up and down the school, of precisely where the strength she had felt an hour or two ago had been gained, and no doubt cause not a little sympathy for the little white ball I had sent sailing down the fairway.<br />
<br />
But I digress, though not too far, for it is soon to be the time of year when we show the 'new girls' round the school and make decisions about which ones to admit to our hallowed groves of academe. All prospective students sit our entrance exam, after which they are given a tour of the school and invited to participate in a little sporting activity. Thence lunch is served in the refectory before the girls assemble in the hall for me to address them. I welcome them to the school, express my hope that they have enjoyed the day and tell them all about the noble history of our institution. I regale them with tales of former glory, recount some of the more notable achievements and drop the names of some of our more distinguished alumni. I introduce some of my trusty lieutenants and invite the Head Girl to say a few words.<br />
<br />
Once over, I usually invite questions. As my eyes wander up and down the rows of eager faces looking for the first hand to go up it often crosses my mind to speculate about both girl and question. Who will ask the inevitable question about the length of prep? Will it be the rather shy looking girl with huge dark eyes and with the long, dark bunches? Which one of them will ask about the refectory menu? The rather well-fed looking blond girl in the middle, or the slim, attractive, sporty-looking girl at present picking her nails. My prediction of the content of each question is usually impeccable, but I am often surprised by the identity of the questioner.<br />
<br />
Last year, however, I was utterly flummoxed by both interlocutor and enquiry when one girl - tall, confident and darkly, almost bewitchingly good-looking - asked whether the cane, which I had of course shown to the assembled girls as part of my talk on the school's disciplinary methods, actually <em>hurt</em>! I could hardly believe my ears! Not only had this girl clearly never been on the receiving end of a few sharp strokes of the rattan, it was quite obvious from the nods and eager upward glances that her fellow prospective pupils were similarly inexperienced.<br />
<br />
Of course, I should have seen it coming. Girls these days are much more used to corporal pleasure than pain. Why, some of them have even been known to express surprise that the water in the post-PE showers is cold, or that we forbid the use of swimming costumes when using the lido. I suppose, therefore, it should have come as no surprise to be asked such a question by a young lady clearly ignorant of traditions and practices and woefully unprepared by her previous schools. And clearly no blame can attach to the questioner in such a situation, and I merely invited the Head Girl back to the lectern to inform the girl of her personal experience of the cane, of which there was - thankfully - plenty.<br />
<br />
But it occurred to me that such a serious omission in a young lady's education is not something we should accept. I have noticed girls in recent years become slightly more demure about the removal of their underwear prior to a caning and, indeed, less stoic in the receiving of it! In the past year one rather naughty girl has almost constantly worn the leather anklets and wrist-bands that clip rather neatly to the fittings on the flogging horse, so as to ensure that she receives her rather frequent chastisement accurately across both buttocks and to eliminate the need to strap her up each time she is summoned to the stage. The lengths we sometimes have to go to. Why, until recently I was even obliged to offer the girl my hankerchief as a gag, so loud were her protestations.<br />
<br />
So it occurred to me that this year we should perhaps introduce our prospective students personally to the fate that almost certainly awaits them if they are successful in their applications. The Governors agrees wholeheartedly, and further suggested that a girl's ability to take her strokes ought to be part of our selection process. Thus it will be that - in a few short weeks - girls will not only have their academic prowess assessed, but their physical ability to withstand six strokes of the cane on their bare bottoms. It may necessitate a slightly shorter speech on the afternoon of their day with us, but no matter. Once I have finished, once the Head Girl has spoken and once questions have been taken I shall be inviting each girl up on stage in turn to feel the sting of rattan on her bottom. The Head Girl will assess each candidate and awards marks out of ten according to the girls' ability to maintain position and receive each stroke without fuss. Such marks will then be added to the candidate's performance in the entrance examination before making her an offer. That way, we should ensure that we get only the right calibre of students both in mind and body.<br />
<br />
Some girls, I hear on the grapevine, are already practising, so desperate are they to be successful in their application. Indeed one girl - whose sister is already at the school - approached me directly to ask if I would consider giving her the hiding of her life so that she may better be prepared for her ordeal. I felt, however, that such behaviour would be rather infra dig and told the girl to approach the local vicar instead (he plays off a single-figure handicap).<br />
<br />
All of which leads me to conclude that it was no bad thing, no bad thing at all to have had to beat the bottoms of an entire year group just recently.<br />
<br />
After all, Headmaster's need their practice too you know. Which reminds me, I have an appointment now with one of my sixth-formers. If you'll excuse me...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_D2cgxS5guFizo19EluRnblvqqWVdqILR8yXtRUGz0WZPvhpCdnq501aX2BcY48fETW0CepostPFogPNDUpqBWTac0GVttDgolxx0uz8bAMsVaxwPbMbvuDjWPElLqhvOIaLzuqOTRqp/s1600/anton001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_D2cgxS5guFizo19EluRnblvqqWVdqILR8yXtRUGz0WZPvhpCdnq501aX2BcY48fETW0CepostPFogPNDUpqBWTac0GVttDgolxx0uz8bAMsVaxwPbMbvuDjWPElLqhvOIaLzuqOTRqp/s400/anton001.jpg" tt="true" width="307" /></a></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-21772692903833726002010-03-11T06:20:00.000-08:002010-03-12T04:09:27.458-08:00Spring<div>I do so love this time of year, don't you? In the last few days it has seemed at last as though Winter might finally have passed and Spring begun to take its place. Ah, the welcome sunlight; the green shoots telling of warmer times to come; the sound of birds beginning to sing their Spring songs. I like nothing better at this time of year than to leave my study and wander round the grounds of the school, occasionally 'breaking bounds' to stroll around the neighbouring village, taking in the sights and sounds of a life beyond the school gates. I have no qualms about leaving my position. My able and trusted <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">lieutenant</span> Miss Sidney maintains more-than-adequate disciplinary standards while I am away, and it does me good, I feel, to take in the fresh spring air outside the confines of the school.<br /><br />There is a rather charming village green I am often in the habit of frequenting. At times, if the warmth of the sun permits, I may rest a-while on one of the charming wooden benches and contemplate the finer things in life whilst at the same time filling my lungs with some of the freshest English air it is ever my pleasure to breathe. That is, until the other day.<br /><br />I was - as I have just outlined - enjoying one of these daily <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">constitutionals</span>, listening to the sound of birdsong and admiring the newly emergent snowdrops and first showings of the daffodils when my nostrils were rudely and suddenly assailed by the unmistakable aroma of tobacco smoke. On further inspection I noticed it was emanating from an automobile parked at the side of the village green a little forward of my own position. As I approached the car, I distinctly saw cigarette ash being tapped out of an open window. I heard voices; female voices. There was laughter. I paused in order to better hear the topic of teenage conversation. And this, dear reader, is what I overheard.<br /><br />"So I said to him, I said 'Sir, I don't mind you spanking me; I don't even mind you caning me. I dare say I might possibly <em>enjoy</em> you caning me..." At this point the speaker was interrupted by hyena-like howls of laughter. Once the car's occupants had recovered their composure, the storyteller went on.<br /><br />"Yes, I might even, you know, get some pleasure from it," the young lady went on. Pleasure? Really? From punishment? This was news to me, and rather disturbing news at that.<br /><br />"But I draw the line at you videoing it," the girl went on.<br /><br />I should explain, at this point, that the School Governing Body has recently introduced some small amendments to our disciplinary code, one of which is the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">insistence</span> that all acts of private chastisement in my study must be recorded by means of video-tape so as to ensure absolute propriety. Not, I hasten to add, that there was any suggestion that things were otherwise. Good Lord no. The days have long gone when I might insist on certain <em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">driot</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">de</span> seigneur</em> in respect of a freshly spanked young lady. Still further remote are the days when the deflowering of a virgin was an accepted part of the School Curriculum, a service expected - nay, demanded - by parents keen to ensure their daughter's 'first time' was both memorable and enjoyable, the likelihood of which at the hands of some fumbling adolescent was unlikely, to say the least. Ah, the days of champagne picnics in the woods; of soft-lighting in the master's bedroom; of candlelit suppers followed by a little personal tuition.... But I digress. Back to the occupants of the car, all of whom - as will now be clear - should neither have been smoking nor out of school, still less sitting in their uniforms inside a car discussing the finer points of the school's disciplinary policy.<br /><br />"And what did he say?" asked one of the young ladies.<br /><br />"Well," continued our narrator, "he told me that - as a special favour - he would give it to me on the bare but have the camera at the other end."<br /><br />"The other end?" laughed one of the girls.<br /><br />"You know," the first girl went on, and I saw her rise a little in her seat and slap her bottom.<br /><br />"So he filmed your bum?" the other cried <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">excitedly</span>.<br /><br />"Yes, I suppose..."<br /><br />"And you asked him to?"<br /><br />"Er, yes..."<br /><br />"Good Lord Hannah!" someone said. "Why not just let him point it at your face?"<br /><br />"Because... well, you never know where those tapes might end up," Hannah went on. "I don't want my face for all to see on YouTube or something, especially not if I'm getting a caning."<br /><br />"So, you'll have your bare bum up there instead?" asked the girl sitting in the driver's seat.<br /><br />"Well, yes... at least <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">nobody'll</span> know that it's me," the girl concluded, to more laughter.<br /><br />Making a mental note to discuss this at the next meeting of the governor's disciplinary committee, I strode purposefully towards the car and cleared my throat. The girl in the front passenger seat swung round, saw who had been listening, and went white. The others quickly extinguished their cigarettes and fell silent.<br /><br />"Ladies, if you would be so kind..." I opened the door of the car and invited all four of them to step outside. A sorry sight they looked as they stood - crestfallen - in a line with their heads bowed, awaiting the inevitable.<br /><br />I reached for my wallet.<br /><br />"Now ladies," I began. "It is clear to me that at least one of your number has some slight objections to the school's new policy of videoing punishments." Nobody spoke. They had all said enough.<br /><br />"Yes, and it should be perfectly obvious that you are all - having been caught both breaking bounds and smoking - now due the most severe chastisement."<br /><br />"Yes sir" the four girls chorused.<br /><br />I handed Hannah a £5 note from my wallet and instructed her to cross the green to the village shop - a most excellent establishment, well stocked - as these places often are - with multifarious goods including items of a horticultural nature.<br /><br />"I believe you know what I require you to purchase, Miss Gresham."<br /><br />The girl nodded, and trotted off across the village green.<br /><br />"Forgive me ladies," I addressed the remaining three girls. "But would you oblige by following me to the wooden bench in the middle of the green?"<br /><br />To say that Laura French, Hayley Underwood and Jessica Vaughan followed with reluctance is something of an understatement. These girls are all highly intelligent creatures; they saw - all too quickly - what fate awaited them, and were no doubt quietly cursing their friend Hannah Gresham's outspoken objections to video punishments. But for her, the girls would soon be safely standing behind the locked door of my study awaiting several strokes of the cane in relative privacy. And the tapes - contrary to anyone <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">else's</span> fears - will never end up broadcast to the nation on such things as YouTube. Oh dear me no! For they are kept secure in a locked cabinet, from whence they are only periodically removed in order that the governors may satisfy themselves that girls in my jurisdiction are both justly and appropriately punished.<br /><br />"Ladies, I think we can dispense with the formalities. You know you must be punished; you know why. And now - I gestured towards the returning Hannah, clutching to her bosom a bundle of yellow garden canes - you know how."<br /><br />"But sir..." one of the girls protested.<br /><br />"No buts, my dear. Your friend has made it quite clear that she objects to having her chastisement recorded for posterity. As there is no possibility of dealing with you any other way once back at school, I propose to carry out the sentence right here, in the middle of the village green. You may each remove your pants and skirts and turn around and touch your toes."<br /><br />By this time Hannah had returned. Handing me the canes - and my change - she looked only slightly startled by the sight of three pairs of fresh young buttocks bared before her. More puzzling, I fear, was the fact that I began the process of chastising her three friends while ignoring Hannah completely. I had a little surprise in store for her.<br /><br />I selected the most malleable of the garden canes and flexed it gently, swishing it through the air a few time and tapping the bare buttocks of the first girl in the line.<br /><br />"Laura, you are to receive six strokes of the cane - three for being out-of-school, and three for smoking. You will count each stroke aloud."<br /><br />Raising the bamboo high above my head I paused, then sliced the rod across Laura French's naked buttocks. The noise resounded round the village green which at this time was otherwise deserted, much to the girls' relief I feel.<br /><br />'One thank-you sir' the girl trilled.<br /><br />Again I raised the cane, this time bringing it down diagonally across both cheeks from top to bottom.<br /><br />'Two thank-you sir.'<br /><br />Stroke three effectively met the second at the apex of the young girls <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">gluteous</span> muscle, thereby neatly inscribing an angry zeta across the nubile flesh. Having thus described a rather pleasing pattern I turned my attention to Miss Underwood. Being slightly fuller of figure, Hayley's naked buttocks presented a slightly larger target and I selected a somewhat thicker instrument of punishment. Again I laid down three firm strokes before moving to Miss Vaughan.<br /><br />Ah, Miss Vaughan. Recall, if you will, my mention earlier of times past, when the duties of a young, athletic Master would include one-to-one tuition in the art of love-making. Ladies like Miss Vaughan would be always be among the last, the very last, to be summoned to my study for some extra-curricular activity, their virginity having been allowed to ripened in the dormitory like some majestic Claret until - after hearing tale upon tale of the wonderful <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">de</span>-flowering of her classmates - the chosen one would be so eager, so willing and positively bursting with anticipation for her own special moment of sexual education. Oh, Miss Vaughan if only you knew (I thought) as I gazed down at those slender, sun-tanned legs, at those tender, naked cheeks and at the nascent beauty of those untouched, rosy lips so delicate and so teasing in-between her taut athletic thighs.<br /><br />Shaking myself from such reverie, I delivered three firm strokes of the cane to Miss Vaughan's bare bottom, before returning to the first girl in the line and dispensing the remainder of her punishment. She counted her remaining three strokes in a loud, clear voice - as I demand - and then remained in position as I moved along the line. Three more for Hayley Underwood were expertly delivered and stoically received and I found myself once more at the teasing sight of Jessica Vaughan's pert - and now striped - bottom.<br /><br />Raising the thinner of the garden canes I cut a further weal across the top of the young lady's thighs.<br /><br />'Four thank-you sir,' was all the sound the young girl made.<br /><br />The next stroke arched around the apex of her <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">nates</span> and bit deep into the delicate flesh.<br /><br />'<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Five</span> thank-you sir,' she almost sang.<br /><br />The final stroke, I thought, had better be my best. So I held the cane aloft, paused, then swung the rattan down with all my might, blistering a red trail on the sweet spot of the girl's posterior, just above the creases where curving buttocks end and smooth long thighs begin.<br /><br />Oh, such sweet spring pleasure. And there was still more to come. For watching the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">proceedings</span> - in addition to a small crowd of villagers who were now gathering to watch the spectacle - was Hannah Gresham: Hannah, who had so objected to the thought of other people seeing her get punished.<br /><br />Allowing the other girls to stand - their knickers still loose around their ankles - I felt I ought to put on something of a show.<br /><br />"Now Hannah," I began, "as chief culprit I will deal with you much more severely than the others." The young girl nodded in agreement.<br /><br />"You have not only been caught breaking bounds and smoking, but you were heard discussing aspects of school life in a deeply disrespectful manner. You seem not only to regard aspects of school life as the subject of entertainment, but also to derive a certain dubious pleasure from the practice upon your person of corporal chastisement."<br /><br />There was some laughter from the growing crowd of villagers.<br /><br />"Well young lady," I went on. "I can assure you that the following punishment will be a good deal less enjoyable to you than any you have hitherto received. And if - by some fortunate quirk of nature - you find the slightest satisfaction in the fate that now awaits you, you have my full permission to enjoy it to the full." The young girl briefly looked surprised. "For I intend," I went on "this morning, here on the village green, to reinstate the balance of pain and pleasure in such punishments firmly to the benefit of the former. Now, remove your skirt."<br /><br />The girl folded her skirt across the back of the wooden bench and then smartly stepped out of her navy-blue school knickers. I then instructed her to kneel on the wooden bench and drape her upper body down so that the palms of her hands were on the floor. I asked two of the other girls to each take a firm grip of one of the girls ankles, holding them down to the seat of the bench so that she couldn't move. The other girl then knelt down on the floor by Hannah's head and grasped her wrists. Thus secured, I delivered my verdict, as much to the onlookers as to the girl herself.<br /><br />"Hannah Gresham will now be given <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">twelve</span> strokes of the cane - double the number received by her classmates - for her wanton and lascivious behaviour. They will be administered by me on behalf of the school in my capacity as Headmaster." I scanned the faces of the growing crowd which by now seemed to have doubled in size and to include one or two students from the neighbouring boys'' boarding school.<br /><br />"And I would invite any one of you," I addressed the crowd,"who feel so inclined to step up to the bench and deliver yor own chastisement once the school's has been completed. For I am in no doubt that girls like Hannah Gresham are throughout the year a source of irritation and annoyance to the people of this village. They break bounds, I know, and make themselves a nuisance to the local residents as these young ladies have just demonstrated." I gestured to the three girls freshly spanked. "Consider it your duty, therefore, to chastise this young lady," and I paused to tap the girl's posterior, "in leiu of all the other girls who may have in the past been a nuisance to you."<br /><br />Moving among the small crowd I handed out the remaining garden canes. A few were taken up immediately by some of the younger male onlookers; I offered one to the local vicar; the Squire had the remainder. And together, we gave Hannah a hiding to remember. It will be some considerable time before she feels but the slightest quiver of pleasure at the thought of physical chastisement. Miss Vaughan - whom I appointed teller - called out a grand total of two hundred and fifty strokes, many of them delivered with slightly more force than even I could muster. Who would have thought it of the local vicar?<br /><br />And the Squire was so impressed he immediately called for the Village Green punishment to become an annual ritual. Which is all well and good.<br /><br />But will we ever get a volunteer?</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 326px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447717563371991778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQBVtAxeCFmNjl3pfxLDGqNn1jvGyC9yBQb2QEdw58VH60-5GoxyqnJsUQV_CG4Tevkus1Y3vi4UYPgg88ytYRejTcOkmfuwUX-zLGBcSvIRE7UpmAlCKldwQs9bkNtK0rIdjC9pHdRBV/s400/ky9cwXAKOos29lcqlNguOF5do1_500.jpg" /></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-27740264255202832282010-02-01T03:20:00.000-08:002010-02-01T06:42:35.113-08:00No more piercings!Just a quick update to let you all know that Emma Newlove was duly caned this morning in assembly. She was escorted naked to the stage by Matron, her bodily piercings on full display. Once on-stage, I used the tip of my cane to indicate precisely where the offending items were located. I pointed out that although Miss Newlove's piercings punctured the clitoris and nipple, we would not tolerate piercings to ANY area beneath a young ladies clothing. (I understand some girls have started the rather odd practice of having their navel's thus adorned; rest assured, I will be ensuring a full inspection of tummy buttons in the next few days!)<br /><div></div><br /><div>The contrite girl then turned her back to the assembled pupils, masters and mistresses and lowered herself across the table in the middle of the stage. With her bare bottom thus presented, I raised the cane high into the air and began the young lady's public chastisement. She received a total of 21 strokes of the cane for her inappropriate bodily adornments, followed by a further 6 for the original offence of skipping prep last Thursday evening. I then added 3 more strokes 'for luck', ensuring that they were the most effective stripes I could administer, and I am pleased to say the girl bore it all with fortitude and resolve. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>She remained in position across the table as the school was dismissed, so that pupils could see clearly as they filed past the stage what fate awaited them if they were caught with similar embellishments to intimate parts of their anatomy - to whit, two dozen stinging red adornments to their bare backsides! </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Once the last girl had left the hall, I walked Emma - rather shaky on her legs but determined not to show any weakness - to Matron to collect her clothing. Once the girl had dressed and been dismissed, I instructed Matron to commence an intimate inspection of every girl in the school - selected at random to maintain an element of surprise - in order to uncover any further transgressions. The lady was already picking up the telephone to summon the first group of girls as I left the Medical Room. Let us hope her investigations reveal no further instances of this silly behaviour. For I sincerely hope never to repeat such a spectacle as greeted school this morning for some considerable time. </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433285327843932994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8CFQSO4RgkaoXJ9jhTgQFwhhzKKiFSJ9By2F4ltwfHkkI5ZfhFxapp4Z7wabdc5qLh-2tTJvvNYaPEu-1X0uIK76ou-PHE_frjy3_8G55z5qXz4DWDBPC8uvvejjGElCkToTk4W0rhO7T/s400/p_sp_cane_0012.jpg" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-69353791228733726502010-01-30T06:09:00.000-08:002010-01-30T08:05:00.626-08:00Emma NewloveMy friends, I am rather at a loss to know where to begin. Although I now boast three decades of pedagogical experience, although I have chastised upwards of five hundred teenage girls and although I have encountered some highly unusual transgressions, I have never before had to punish a girl for having a piercing. Down there.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Allow me to explain. When a girl is summoned to my study, when I have listened to her side of the story, and when I have determined what I consider to be the correct course of action it is customary for me to require the girl to remove certain items of apparel. So as to allow the rod of chastisement to do its work unimpeded, a girl who is about to be punished will remove her skirt. If a girl is before me for a first offence, she may not be aware of the requirement to divest herself of any other item of clothing and I may choose not to disabuse her of this notion. She will, of course, have heard tell in the girls' dorm that the cane is administered to the unclothed buttocks. She may have seen such a spectacle in assembly, for it sometimes necessary to carry out a caning <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">publicly</span>. But a girl's natural modesty will in all probability persuade her to remain covered for as long as possible. And the sight of yet another naked bottom is not something I now find myself awaiting with quite the same degree of anticipation. Of course, years ago as a young headmaster, who wouldn't have enjoyed the spectacle of a shapely young bare bottom? Who could resist the peachy roundness of taut adolescent flesh. Indeed, when I first accepted such responsibility, the girls who bent before me where - at eighteen - not far removed from my own tender years. In the first flush of youth I must confess to rather enjoying the sight of a creamy young white bottom bared for my attentions; as a healthy, red-blooded English male I have at times allowed my gaze to linger on the smooth cheeks pertly presented upwards for my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">disciplinary</span> ministrations. And, yes, I have at times allowed my eyes to wander to that dark and secret corner where a maiden's greatest treasure dwells.<br /></div><div>But no matter. Once a girl has been 'shown the ropes' she knows to smartly step out of her knickers too and stand to attention before my desk. Only at this stage will the girl be informed of the severity of her punishment. But thus <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">unattired</span>, my eyes can scarce avoid the said young lady's pubic region. And my, how things have changed 'down there'! When I first started as a young House Master, girls always stood before my desk with their modesty somewhat preserved by a little bush of pubic hair. Not all young ladies were as <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">hirsute</span> as the rest. Those with blonde hair, in particular, appeared to benefit from less 'protection' than their <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">brunette</span> sisters. Red-headed girls, on the other hand, sometimes seemed to have an impenetrable layer of wiry strands. (One felt some sympathy for their boyfriends!) But I digress. My point is this. The girls who stood before me did so <em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">au</span> natural</em>; as nature intended, without artifice or interference. </div><br /><div>Then, about a decade ago, I started noticing what I can only describe as a 'trend' towards a certain amount of depilation. Girls standing naked from the waist down waiting for their caning did so with their pubic hair cropped close to the skin; a few went further, and seemed to be engaged in elaborate pubic topiary! I beat them soundly for it, of course. At least, at first. But the time soon came when not a single girl would present herself before me with a full bush on display. There were sometimes little tufts above an otherwise nude pudendum, or some frankly improbably artistic styling. Redhead, blonde, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">brunette</span> it didn't matter. At one time every girl I caned came with her hair either shaved or trimmed. But always there. No matter how much seemed to be removed, no matter how artistically it was styled, there would always be some small vestige of their natural state. Until, of course, one day when a girl removed her pants and stood before me with a vulva quite as smooth and hairless as her buttocks. I caned her for it, of course. I instructed Matron to examine every girl to find out which of them had opted for the full 'Brazillian'. That very evening I gave a dozen strokes to twenty further culprits. And the numbers grew. Girls increasingly seemed to feel the need to divest themselves of every last trace of their pubertal state. And as beating every girl was not an option, the boundaries of acceptable behaviour were once again re-drawn. </div><br /><div>Now I have, thus far, been exceedingly open about where my eyes might wander. Seated at my desk, having informed an unfortunate pupil that she is about to be beaten, having watched her carefully remove her skirt and - in the majority of cases - smartly step out of her regulation knickers, I am unfailingly greeted by the sight of her naked maidenhood at eye-level. And when I say naked, as I think I have explained already, I mean naked: bare, exposed, smooth, hairless, nude - bereft of the merest hint of any covering. </div><br /><div>Thus is was when Emma <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Newlove</span> presented the other morning. Her offence had been relatively minor: skipping prep. I was prepared to give her a swift half dozen strokes and say nothing more about it. As a senior, she has seen - or rather, felt it all before. She nodded as I told her of her fate, unzipped her skirt and stepped out of her knickers. Hands on head she stood before me, eyes forward, every inch the attractive young lady. And then, as I rose from my chair to select a cane, I noticed what I thought was something glinting in-between her legs. Now I am emphatically not the kind of person who gratuitously seeks the shame and embarrassment of my charges. On the other hand, I am <em>in loco <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">parentis</span></em>. It is my duty to ensure my charges are healthy both of mind and body. </div><div> </div><div>'My <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">dear' I</span> began, 'would you mind?' I motioned for her to sit down on the bentwood chair behind her. With her legs demurely closed she waited. </div><br /><div>'Now, my dear' I continued, 'I intend to call Matron. There is something of which I feel she ought to be aware.</div><br /><div>Within minutes the Matron was at my side. I dismissed Emma temporarily and explained the cause of my concern. On Miss <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Newlove's</span> return, Matron smartly instructed her to lie upon my chaise-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">longue</span> and to spread her legs. I turned my back and took in the view from my study window. The fifth-formers were busy a lacrosse; some seniors were practising their archery. Miss Sidney was patrolling bounds, I noticed. Very <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">vigilant</span> of her. </div><div></div><br /><div>'<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Headmaster</span>?' The voice of Matron summoned me from my reveries.</div><br /><div>'I think you'd better take a look.'</div><br /><div>Turning my attention to what lay between Miss <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">Newlove's</span> legs I cannot but admit that I was shocked. Not only was the area <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">completely</span> bald, as seems to be the fashion these days, not only were her fresh pink labia delicately protruding like the petals of a flower, not only was the tiny bud of her clitoral hood withdrawn, not only was the clitoris itself exposed but there, like a fairy version of a bulls nose-ring was a band of silver through the clitoris itself. </div><br /><div>'As I suspected' Matron pronounced triumphantly. 'And I wouldn't be surprised if there aren't more...'</div><br /><div>'More?' I gasped, and looked a little harder. </div><br /><div>'Oh yes, headmaster,' and with that Matron shouted and the girl stood up <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">quickly</span> and began unbuttoning her blouse. </div><br /><div>'Now, take your bra off girl' barked Matron.</div><br /><div>The girl did as she was told. Her pert breasts thrust from the restraining influence of her brassiere and upon contact with the January air, the nipples stood erect. And there, through the left, was an identical ring to that we had seen between the girl's legs. </div><br /><div>'This puts an entirely different complexion on things,' I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">declared</span>. And I wasn't only thinking of my own rising colour. 'Oh no, this will never do' I told the girl. </div><br /><div>'I will desist from caning you now,' I said, 'for the offence of missing prep.' The girl sniffed, hanging her in shame. </div><div> </div><div>You will report to Matron first thing on morning. You will remove every item of your clothing. And at the end of assembly, Matron - if you would oblige - will bring you up onto the stage before the school is dismissed. </div><br /><div>'But sir...'</div><div><br />'Enough! Or I will reconsider the twenty strokes I am minded to administer. You will present yourself on the stage with these... forbidden items of adornment on display for all to see. You <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">will</span> then turn round and lay across the table with your bare bottom facing school. I will then deliver twenty-one strokes of the cane. You will remain in position, and silent, throughout. At the conclusion of your punishment I shall dismiss the school while you remain, face-down across the desk with the marks of your chastisement on display. That way, the school will be left in no doubt about my feelings on the matter. </div><br /><div>I can scarce credit it, dear reader. Had I not seen it with my own eyes I might have struggled to believe it. I think I can say without fear of contradiction I have never in all my years seen anything quite as unusual. I have made accommodation of all manner of girlish fads as regards the most intimate corners of their nubile bodies. But on this I will not be swayed. </div><div></div><div>Emma <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">Newlove</span> will ensure that no girl, however else adorned, will ever present herself be-decked in such a way again. </div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432558702640966658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0-S8knz9LExa_Zizix7fUt8ByHPfBJmvaYvGAcw8pJ_Y0f8I6c1uxIiIOMcDxMffi6eeqRSTwzMBpSFtKW503EmfAIz89KY9IbKYaTOsPTKbcmpO7ABDfyIhvUT7Gsv0_Vj5mubVbO3f/s400/cut%252Bthe%252Bgrass.jpg" /><br /><div></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-64065074920883657492009-11-27T01:36:00.000-08:002009-11-27T02:15:55.034-08:00Class of 2009Oh my friends, I have been so neglectful. I am truly sorry. There is so much for me to tell, but I fear this is neither the time nor the place.<br /><div></div><br /><div>Since September I have been rushed off my feet. The new intake of sixth-form girls have all been successfully inducted, most are getting on with their studies, a few are proving to be a cause of mild concern but nothing that six swift strokes of the cane can't cure. In fact, the class of 2009 looks likely to be one of our most successful academic intakes for some years. I have high hopes. Several girls are already thinking of applying to Oxford or Cambridge; all are likely to be accepted. They work hard in school, play with energy and commitment on the hockey field, enjoy themselves in the dorm and accept and uphold the traditions of the school as if they had been born to them. Not once has a new girl demurred when instructed to remove her knickers; no trace of surprise or flicker of resentment has crossed a girl's face when told she is about to get the cane; and never has a group of girls been so grateful and so stoic in receiving of their just deserts. I like that in a girl. Those that howl, those who protest their innocence, those who insist on their inability to withstand any form of corporal punishment are my biggest challenges. Training a girl to meekly touch her toes and to remain both motionless and silent as the cane is laid across her naked bottom is an art. But it is an art that takes considerable time. And while I am grateful that the lower sixth have not been such a challenge, I have been surprised by the number of senior's who have needed training. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>You would expect, perhaps, that a young lady who had been at this establishment for some time would be used to things by now. After all, they will have seen how it is done. They will have seen what happens when the rules are broken, how a girl is dealt with and - most important - how a young girl takes her punishment. So it always comes as a surprise when girls like Josie come along. Bright, confident, articulate and hard-working, Josephine had never been sent to me before the beginning of this year. And then it was only for some minor uniform infringement. But, as I pointed out to her, as a prefect, as a senior, she had a duty to uphold the highest standards. What, in a junior girl, would be regarded with some tolerance and dealt with in a less public manner did, in her case, warrant full exposure to the attentions of the school. I informed her that she would receive six stroke of the cane the following morning after prayers. In front of the school. Well, she wailed and protested. She objected and persuaded. She cried and she pleaded. All to no avail. The next morning, she was summonded up on stage, told to remove her knickers, bend across the desk, and caned. And that should have been an end to it. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>But it wasn't. Oh no. The girl made such an exhibition of herself, kicking and screaming, shouting out and begging, that I was somewhat taken aback. Never has such a spectacle been presented to the school. What the new girls made of it I don't know. I simply could not let the matter rest. So, with the girl sobbing, kneeling at my feet after her public caning, I announced to the school that what they had just seen should be expunged from their memory; that this morning's punishment had - in effect - not happened. That Josie would be caned again as if this whole unseemly episode had not have happened, and that I would ensure that - when the strokes were next applied - the young lady would present a model of the willing and submissive participant in our disciplinery proceedings. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I swept from the stage and returned to my study. Consulting the Housemistress, Miss Sidney, we devided a plan of desensitisation for Josie, which would start as soon as this morning's marks had faded. First of all, each evening, Miss Sidney would summon Josie to her study. There, she would be stripped and spanked with ever increasing severity, until Miss Sidney became convinced that the girl could take it. Next, the slipper would be applied to the young girl's bottom. We agreed a dozen strokes at first, increasing in multiples of six until the girl could take 120 in a single session. We knew it would take time. We knew it would take up valuable resources, bith of energy and stamina. But no matter. Girls have to learn to take their due. And at times, that includes taking it in front of other people. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Therefore the next stage of the desensitisation project involved my attending some of these evening spanking sessions. I witnessed Josie take the slipper, the only noise being the swish of the implement through the air in Miss Sidney's study, and the loud smack as it made contact with young Josie's buttocks. She did not flinch; she uttered not the slightest murmer. And, when Miss Sidney had finished, the girl adjusted her clothes and turned and thanked her Housemistress sincerely. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'I think this young lady might be ready for the cane' I told Miss Sidney. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There was but the slightest flicker of anxiety across the young girl's face. But then she stoutly replied:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'Of course, sir. I'm ready when you are.'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It was agreed that a private caning would preceed the public spectacle. And we thought it best if there were witnesses. I therefore proposed to administer the punishment at the conclusion of the next meeting of the governing body. An audience would be ready and waiting in my study. The girl could enter at the close of business. I would invite her to prepare herself, select a cane, she would step forwards to the middle of the room, her back to the committee table, and would touch her toes. I would lay the cane across her cheeks, and give her six of the very best. And we would see what happened. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And so, this evening, this little spectacle will be performed before a select group of onlookers. If successful, the girl will then be punished once again before the school. And if the training hasn't worked, we will have to repeat the exercise once again. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd sometimes think that some of our girls took pleasure in the whole thing. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408724645965458354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiulwqoP8nt24Vidmx2hzXUCimY1hVB9wV9bEZZPAQiM75xaandWtG690_t0A66-e1ex0B6hiTnaT9qX3EQH1yc0KNsbIF4-8yfby-7SX_Q06R0V6i1w_vSja80sl7CuXzM8QN454PjJR7/s400/ZmzMP9WHTqnd45l4fZCDJqpmo1_500.jpg" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-73836119646475606712009-06-29T07:39:00.001-07:002009-06-29T12:02:28.068-07:00'Fete' accompliApologies, apologies. I have not forgotten you, dear readers. But as I intimated last time I updated, the summer term is among the busiest in the school year, and this weekend's entertainment was provided by the school summer fete, of which I simply had to write a few words to inform you of its chief attractions - which turned out to be Miss Sidney's firm, tanned (and naked) buttocks.<br /><br />Allow me to explain. I would not normally condone the use of corporal punishment for entertainment, still less for fund-raising. But the chapel roof is leaking, and the school is several hundred-thousand pounds short of its target. So when Miss Sidney approached me with her own take on our ever-popular (and lucrative - the little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">minx's</span> simply love to throw wet sponges at their teachers!) take on the 'Soak Sir' stall I was, of course, all ears. And when she revealed the fund-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">raising</span> potential of combining it with a sort of 'sponsored spank' as I suppose you'd call it, I was positively captivated.<br /><br />Her proposal was to raise the stakes, as-it-were. No mere bucket and sponge for her. And no facing forwards in the school stocks, either. No. Miss Sidney volunteered to be this year's victim, head and hands securely locked in the apertures of the old oak stocks. But rather than facing the paying customers, she suggested turning the stocks around so that her (rather shapely) bottom was presented as a target. And not for any old wet sponges, either. Oh no. For the cane, the slipper, ruler, carpet-beater, any implement in fact a girl might choose with which to strike her. And at a minimum of one pound per stroke (more, clearly, for the cane and a fiver for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">sjambok</span>) Miss Sidney calculated that she could raise more than we could ever dream of raising from our soggy sponges.<br /><br />'But my dear,' I cautioned, 'wouldn't this be rather hard to, er... bare? Think of your cheeks, my dear!'<br /><br />'Oh, not a bit of it Headmaster,' she assured me. 'Remember my South African education - I've had years of practice.'<br /><br />I raised an eyebrow.<br /><br />'And the girls won't have the strength to hurt me.'<br /><br />'Or, indeed, the money!' I suggested.<br /><br />'Oh, I think they'll find the funds from somewhere. After all, who wouldn't want an opportunity to get their own back on the new young Housemistress?'<br /><br />'Well, you have spanked an awful lot of girls,' I said.<br /><br />'Oh yes, and they'll all want to get their own back, you can rest assured.'<br /><br />Thus is was agreed that, last Saturday, Miss Sidney would be locked in the stocks, her bottom (did I mention its most comely, firm proportions?) gently protruding in the direction of a queue of schoolgirls, each clutching as many coins as they could muster and happily chatting about the pain they would inflict on their poor teacher. It was quite a carnival atmosphere, if truth be told. The 'thwack' of rattan on round flesh competed with the general noise of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">gaity</span> of the school fete, the 'smack' of leather plimsoll on bare buttock cracked across the show ground (making the ponies start, I must add) and the swish of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tawse</span> became as one with the '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">phut</span>! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">phut</span>!' of the airguns on the rifle range.<br /><br />The prefects kept the score, both of the money taken and the strokes received, and at the same time reminded those who names appeared on the sponsorship form Miss Sidney had sent round the week before that they should hold some money in reserve to pay their dues. And what dues, readers. What dues!<br /><br />At the end of the afternoon, Miss Sidney had received over three hundred strokes of the slipper, cane, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">tawse</span>, ruler, martinet and birch. She had, rather conveniently, 'mislaid' the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">sjambok</span> on the morning of the school fete. No matter. One can hardly begrudge someone who had spent the entire afternoon bent over in the stocks, presenting her comely bottom to the school for everyone to spank. And I'm pretty sure everyone must have had a go, as it were. Certainly a couple of the sixth-form boys took full advantage of the opportunity (and went away with their tumescent manhood bulging, somewhat, in their trousers!).<br /><br />And the total raised? Why, almost five hundred pounds! Five hundred pounds! I can scarce believe it myself. It makes the thirty-quid taken on the coconut shy look rather paltry, doesn't it? And rest assured, dear reader. I made sure Miss Sidney was, erm... 'compensated' for her sacrifice at a rather pleasant little restaurant in town. And afterwards in my study.<br /><br />Oh the joys of Headship!The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-4012839846172714322009-06-02T04:27:00.000-07:002009-06-08T05:03:44.257-07:00The challenge!Well, the gauntlet has been well and truly thrown down. Following Miss Sidney's introduction of the whip, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">other</span> three Houses here in school have all been desperately searching for something equally innovative to apply to the bare-bottoms of their girls. And in addition, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">sjambok</span> wielded so effectively by Miss Sidney has become something of a talking point. Indeed, in over twenty years of teaching girls I can <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">scarcely</span> recall an occasion when corporal punishment has been such a hot topic of discussion. And not merely discussion, either - observation. Girls have been caught comparing 'marks' in the showers; young ladies who should know better have been spying on each other in 'mid-punishment'; and our Head Girl - none other - has been instrumental in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">constructing</span> a league-table detailing which girls have been punished and with what. (So far, incidentally, Odette King seems to be 'on top' as-it-were, with a total of six hundred strokes - mostly from Mr Leaman's leather slipper but over seventy of which were from my own cane. I shall be ensuring she makes three figures very shortly!)<br /><br />But I digress. What have the other Houses been doing to create a punishment identity of their own? Well, I shall begin with our oldest House - Laughton, named after a fifteenth-century benefactor. As befits such an august <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">institution</span>, Laughton has returned to the centuries old tradition of the birch. You may recall a previous post of mine in which I explained the history of corporal punishment in British schools. The birch is indeed a most venerable instrument of punishment; indeed, its use is the progenitor of the bare-bottom caning we now know and love. For a birching over clothing is a most inoffensive method of chastisement. But the birch was superseded by the cane for good reason: the cane was a more effective <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">disciplinary</span> instrument. Indeed, so effective was it that it might even be administered to buttocks clothed in underwear and still hurt mightily. I have even seen it used effectively over <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">outergarments</span>, too, though as you know we prefer to see the cane applied to naked flesh. Girls have been baring their bottoms here for centuries, and just because the cane hurts more is no reason to alter such a long tradition. Thus when a distinguished predecessor of mine finally dispensed with the school birch, he did so with the express intention of continuing the chastisement of his charges on their bare behinds. Indeed, in the days of the birch all punishment were carried out in public. As you might recall, we occasionally have a caning in assembly even now. But most girls are punished in the privacy of my study, where I feel they can better express their sorrow and regret at the actions that have brought them to such a sorry situation.<br /><br />Where were we? Ah yes, the birch. Collecting fresh bundles of the greenest twigs and binding them together has been the House Prefects duty. And very ably they have discharged it, too. Last week there were three House <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">birchings</span>, each one of them in excess of one hundred strokes. For the discomfort of the birch is unlike any other instrument. It builds up slowly, gaining an inexorable momentum, swish after swish, until the bare bottom reddens and the sharp twigs sting in the manner of a bed of nettles (so I am informed). It also, thus, takes some time and I was pleased not to have any other engagements on the occasion of Mandy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Suter's</span> birching. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Summoned</span> to her house-master, she was given a thorough dressing down, having been caught reading after lights-out. Told of the experimental nature of the punishment, the poor girl looked relieved. Indeed, who wouldn't look relieved on being told that Mr Graham was NOT about to cane them? But, of course, she knew nothing of the birch. Stripped from the waist down, the girl was told to lie across the end of Mr Graham's leather sofa, draping her upper body down and with her hands flat on <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">the</span> floor. We debated - with the girl already in position - whether it was necessary to restrain her, and after some discussion Mr Graham <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">summoned</span> the duty prefect, James, to grasp the girl's wrists and to hold them firmly down.<br /><br />Mr Graham selected a birch freshly cut that day, and placed it gently across Miss <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Suter's</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">nates</span>. She flinched, slightly. Then he raised it high above his head, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">brought</span> it down in a great arc with some force.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Swiiiish</span>'.<br /><br />Miss <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Suter</span> grimaced, but no more.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Swiiiish</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">swiiish</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">swiiish</span>' went the birch as Mr Graham raised it high above his head and brought the bundle <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">crashing</span> down onto the girl's bare bottom. By stroke ten the girl began to wriggle, and I saw James tightening his grip. By stroke twenty she was writhing on the sofa, offering her bottom to the cooling air. And by stroke thirty she was panting like a tired cross-country runner, and indeed this punishment was something of a marathon.<br /><br />Mr Graham paused a while on reaching his half-century, and I noticed he was looking rather tired. I had no wish to participate in the girl's chastisement personally; I was there merely as an impartial observer. But there was someone, kneeling on the floor with the strength to carry on. And so, with Mr Graham flagging, I suggested James pick up the birch and deliver the remaining strokes. As House Prefect, it will not have been the first time he had been called upon to wield a wand of punishment. But the few boys in this school are not normally allowed to chastise a girl's bare bottom. Now, I ought to point out that I am perfectly happy for a girl's nether-regions to be exposed both boys and girls at this school in assembly; no-one here should be expressing any improper interest in proceedings. But in this case, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">proximity</span> of young master James <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Carruthers</span> and Miss <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Suter's</span> bare-behind was a little discomforting, so I instructed the boy to stand in such a way as to avoid catching sight of Mandy's tumescent pudendum.<br /><br />He took up his position, legs apart, and swished with great authority. Swish, swish, swish he brought the birch down time and time again. Swish - splat! The birch made contact, but young Jame's force seemed to continue. He was swinging through each stroke, not stopping when the twigs made contact with the buttocks, but continuing the stroke as if beating something like the arm of the sofa on which young Mandy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Suter</span> was reclining. The girl was rather alarmed at what was happening, and not without just cause. Her bottom <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">reddening</span> nicely, the twigs biting like a thousand tiny teeth each time the bundle struck, I could see this punishment being every bit the equal of Miss Sidney's whipping. And when the final stroke was laid it become obvious why so many birch rods need to be cut. The instrument thus used was broken, worn and fit only for the dustbin. Oh yes, the birch is a worthy implement for Laughton House, the equal of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">sjambok</span> and as wicked as my cane.<br /><br />As Mandy was taken from the room by James for a little comforting, I congratulated Mr Graham on a splendid choice of instrument.<br /><br />'Why, thank you headmaster' he replied. 'I trust you will find my colleagues choices equally satisfying.'<br /><br />Whether I did or not is, as they say, another story.... <div> </div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344925071812285762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2L2NLdCqunZ-J83773dURyoWHx_O2n0z1LLpbr_696rIwyidFPWoVssAAEWYzx9HHMBzv7HJPKi82TjcH72gNtNFcFeAEMmMRkv1xuSjBGTGiaP6T7lPinyMzadqtkOgqKZr2N2hDgf7n/s400/birching1.JPG" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-91499095006786736142009-05-11T02:12:00.000-07:002009-06-11T06:45:36.672-07:00Miss Sidney's Whipping<div>My word, can it really be a month since my last report? There is much to tell you. So much has happened! There was the caning of the entire senior dorm, for instance - in their dormitory - for unseemly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">shenanigans</span> after 'lights out'. There was the occasion on which I had to deal with some unpleasantness between two young ladies in the shower-room following a PE lesson. I seldom spank a fully-nude young lady, but on this occasion I made not one, but two exceptions. And only last week I was forced to cane an entire bus-full of naughty sixth-form girls, when none of the passengers owned up to 'mooning' out of the back window. They won't want their bottoms <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">publicly</span> displayed after what I did to them, I can tell you.<br /><br />I shall describe each of these scenes in due course, as part of my on-going web-tutorial. But first, of course, I must bring you 'up-to-date' with the corporal experiments of our new (and extremely efficient) House Mistress. You will recall I granted her the freedom to implement some rather unusual punishment ideas for a trial period of one term, and informed her that I would be monitoring the experiment closely. At the time of my last post, I was about to witness her strategy in action. She had summoned two senior girls to her study with the aim of demonstrating her ideas to me. I forget what - if anything - the two young ladies might have done. No matter. They were going to receive a House thrashing, and I was going to watch.<br /><br />We discussed some of the principles involved in making a young lady see the error of her ways over a rather pleasant cup of Earl Grey in the airy-splendour of Miss Sidney's study. She and I are of one mind on so many things, I couldn't help but remind her of my surprise at her reluctance to wield a sturdy cane.<br /><br />'Wait until you see what I have to offer' she said, smiling enigmatically. She rose from her oak desk and went towards the door.<br /><br />'Come in please ladies' she invited, and two of the House prefects entered. I must say I was rather surprised to see that Keely Dukes was one of them, and I wracked my brains trying to recall an occasion on which I had cause to punish her (to no avail).<br /><br />'Now, I have invited the Headmaster here to witness your punishment. I trust that this is fine with both of you?'<br /><br />'Yes, Miss!' the girls replied in unison.<br /><br />'Very well. Now Keely, I've already explained what's going to happen to you here today. Have you any questions?'<br /><br />Keely looked a little apprehensive, but merely nodded her head.<br /><br />'And Bethany - you know what's going to happen, don't you?'<br /><br />Bethany nodded.<br /><br />'Right, I'd like you both to remove your skirts.'<br /><br />Both girls did as they were told. Bethany - the taller, more athletic of the two - possessed a lovely pair on long, tanned legs. Even if one hadn't been acquainted with the girl, one could have told from her lithe appearance that she was one of the school's top sportswomen.<br /><br />'Now, take down your knickers.'<br /><br />Both girls, bending at the knees, removed their bottle-green school-regulation knickers and stood facing Miss Sidney. Sitting in the leather arm-chair in the corner, I had the most delightful view of two bare bottoms - the one taught and firm, with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">gluteous</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">maximus</span> of a runner; the other slightly rounder and fuller in appearance, but with the smoothness of youth. Looking carefully - as I did - at the latter posterior I found it hard to imagine that such a creamy smoothness had ever before been disturbed by the infliction of a punishment. Indeed, on checking my records later I discovered Keely Dukes to have a virgin bottom, never touched by cane or slipper. Until now, of course.<br /><br />'Keely, I'd like you to go first as we agreed.'<br /><br />Keely positioned herself across Miss Sidney's lap, adjusting her position so as to be lying as comfortably as possible, and presenting her House Mistress with a full view of her naked backside.<br /><br />'I'm going to spank you first, to warm you up' Miss Sidney said, proceeding to deliver six stinging swats across Miss Duke's bottom. Without further instruction, the girls swapped places and Bethany's smaller bottom was duly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">reddened</span>.<br /><br />'Now, we agreed on six with the slipper next, I think?'<br /><br />The two girls nodded. Miss Sidney rose and moved the chair so that each girl could grasp the seat as they bent over to receive the slipper.<br /><br />'Stick your bottom out, please Keely' ordered the House <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Mistress</span>, as the first girl 'assumed the position' for her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">slippering</span>. And what a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">slippering</span>! Miss Sidney is clearly of the opinion that the slipper is inferior unless raised high and brought down mighty hard, one buttock at a time. Again, how like my own view of the matter. Keely Dukes hands gripped the chair hard as her buttocks received the treatment. Six hard whacks flattened each cheek in turn, leaving the definite imprint of the rubber sole for all to see. The other girl, standing watching hands on head, starting biting her lip as she saw how hard the slipper strokes were landing. With slightly less by way of padding, her anxiety was understandable, and when <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">her</span> turn came she moved reluctantly to take up her position on the chair. Nevertheless, the girl remained firmly in position - though wincing - as the slipper smacked into her bottom. As the last stroke was administered, Bethany stood up and turned to see the damage. But there was more to come.<br /><br />'Now ladies,' Miss Sidney started, 'as you know I want to establish a unique House discipline identity across the school. If this trial is successful, I hope each of the four school houses will impose its own <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">unique</span> style of corporal punishment, leaving the Headmaster to wield the cane when necessary.'<br /><br />The two girls nodded.<br /><br />'But the Headmaster had rightly insisted that whatever replaces the cane must be of equal standing. And as I'm sure you will agree, a spanking followed by a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">slippering</span> - however hard - comes nowhere near to doing that.<br /><br />'But Miss... it really hurt' complained Bethany. 'You spanked us really hard.'<br /><br />'I know, I know' Miss Sidney soothed. 'But we have a duty to ensure that no-one is treated unfairly in this school. If the other houses thought that - in abandoning the cane - girls in my house were being treated leniently, it would undermine the discipline of the school.<br /><br />'Indeed it would' I chipped in. 'And as you know, discipline is what this school prizes most highly.'<br /><br />'Yes sir!' the girls both chorused.<br /><br />'So, to conclude your physical chastisement, I am going to whip you. You will each receive ten strokes of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">sjambok</span>, as we agreed last time we spoke.'<br /><br />Now this was a surprise. I am familiar, of course, with the long switch of rhino-hide but had never before seen its use in a school setting. This was going to sting and - if such a thing is possible - even more than the cane. No wonder Miss Sidney offered the girls a gag in order to prevent them crying out. No wonder, too, the she chose strong rope to tie them down across the vaulting horse she had the girls carry to the middle of the room. Once Keely Dukes was thus secured, I sat back - entranced.<br /><br />'Whoop - thud'. The rod made a dull splat as it came into contact with her already-reddened buttocks, and I realised now why the warm up spanking had been necessary. For one thing the shock of such a sudden, fierce lash would be too much, but on a virgin bottom such as Keely's the tender skin would almost certainly have suffered. Now, however, hardened by Miss Sidney's hand and by her slipper, Keely's bottom could withstand not one, but two, and three, and four, and five blows with the plaited leather whip before gasping slightly into her gag. On stroke six her breathing quickened; by stroke seven she was writhing hard against the ropes and twisting - as much as she could - to ease the pain. Strokes eight and nine came down in quick succession and by stroke ten the girl was panting heavily. (Was she also a little damp between her legs? It is unseemly to say so, but I couldn't help but notice her vagina glistening - especially as she thrust her buttocks upwards and apart in time with her rapid breathing. Untying the ropes took long enough to allow the girl to regain some of her composure. It also heightened the anticipation in the spectator, who fully understood now what she was about to suffer.<br /><br />Bethany <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">hesitantly</span> stepped towards the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">vaulting</span> horse and draped her long, tanned body over it. Helpfully, she placed her wrists flat against the wooden <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">staves</span>, allowing her Housemistress to bind them both securely. Next her ankles were tied tightly to the rear legs of the horse and finally, a length of rope was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">criss</span>-crossed over the small of her back and under the padded leather bench that she was lying on. Thus secured, Miss Sidney offered the girl a gag, but she refused.<br /><br />This time, I watched carefully as the housemistress measured the fearsome leather wand across the girl's bare-bottom. I studied her right arm as she withdrew the rod but slightly, then with a flicking motion swished it down across the naked buttocks.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Whuup</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">thudt</span>!' One stroke of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">sjambok</span>.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Whuuup</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">thudt</span>!' Stroke two.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Whhhhoooop</span> - THUD!' Stroke number three.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Whuuuuooooooop</span> - smack!' Stroke four hit right across the apex of Bethany's bare buttocks, the sweet-spot in any form of corporal punishment.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Yeaooow</span>!'<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Whooooop</span> - splat! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Whoooop</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">splot</span>!' Strokes five and six were both a little harder and the girl's head was thrown back as she grimaced with the pain.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Whoooooop</span> - thud!' Stroke seven landed right on the spot where the girls buttocks met her taut, athletic thighs. She yelped, but more out of surprise I feel. And all the time Miss Sidney merely 'flicked' the sturdy whip across her target.<br /><br />'Flick - crack! Flick - crack!' Two more strokes, slightly higher and each one landing on fresh skin. I could now count nine angry stripes as my housemistress paused for a moment. Bethany looked around, puzzled slightly. Keely, standing hands on head' was watching closely. I held my breath. Miss Sidney flicked the whip. And the punishment was over.<br /><br />'Well, Headmaster?' she was asking. Both girls had been dismissed with very sore bottoms, and Miss Sidney was keen to discover my opinion.<br /><br />'Well my dear...' I started.<br /><br />'Yes?' Miss Sidney <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">leant</span> a little further forward.<br /><br />'Well, I am impressed. Surprised, but very impressed. If each of your rival houses can come up with something equally effective, I can seen I shall be ordering fewer school canes every year from now on.'<br /><br />Miss Sidney sat back in her chair, and smiled.<br /><br />'One question, though' I said as I got up to leave.<br /><br />'Apart from its obvious effectiveness, why choose a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">sjambok</span> as your House implement of punishment.'<br /><br />'Ah' she said, and smiled. 'My South African education left its mark, I suppose you could say.'<br /><br />'My word!' I said. 'And were any of them... physical, by any chance?'<br /><br />'Ah now Headmaster' Laura smiled. 'That would be telling...'</div><div> </div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346065596655125346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 286px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge4TTcuNCrr2uwZIfeLo5RQAjGswLscYTQiJTj6v6HT8xIyD5xSLE7zv8STVBL_uU6JP6U9nDNZgSelXEv0BANjFHZDrMn3ZRkRJTsQuQk6Uxw2K5uItkJpLEV8VS-F5adf7aZvN3klgl-/s400/birching_horse1.JPG" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-23723584961245867222009-04-11T13:18:00.000-07:002009-04-28T05:24:40.654-07:00Back to school!Ah, summer term (or as we know it here, the Hilary quarter). I do so love this time of year. The birds are singing, the trees are coming into leaf and our girls are all in summer uniform. At last the winter tights can be dispensed with, and young ladies may legitimately walk around the school bare-legged. This makes my job so much easier. How much more efficient merely to lift up a girl's skirt, pull her knickers down and then get on with it?<br /><br />I trust the Easter break was restful for you all? We are now fully in the swing of one of our busiest times of year: exams, reports, sports day, the summer fete. And I return to my study with some rather delicate issues to ponder. Like whether to allow our newly-appointed Head of House to abandon tradition and adopt her own personal corporal punishment strategies. I should explain. You might recall that the successful candidate (who so magnificently caned young Melanie's bare bottom in the spank-off) chose to use a rather heavy leather strap when completing the chastisement task we set as part of the initial interview. She, and the gentleman ultimately unsuccessful, both showed such firm resolve that we, the panel, felt unable to choose between them. We thus invited them back to the school and offered them a bottom each to cane, and cane hard, until such time as the girl on the receiving end indicated she was unwilling to go on. Miss Sidney was a worthy winner. She was both accurate and firm and as such was appointed to be Head of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Netherfield</span> House. And after her first few weeks in post, I have no reason to regret our decision.<br /><br />Miss Sidney is popular with all the girls; her skills as a classroom <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">practitioner</span> are exemplary; and she has shown a real dedication to the extra-curricular life of the school, assisting the music mistress with the choir and coaching several junior sports teams. I have been very, very impressed. So when she asked to meet me before the end-of-term to discuss what she termed 'a pastoral matter', I was only to happy to accommodate her. We sat in my study sipping <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">lapsang</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">souchong</span> and she told me of her plans.<br /><br />'I wonder,' she began, 'how you would feel about my <em>not</em> caning any of the girls in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Netherfield</span> House next term?'<br /><br />I'm afraid I spluttered, rather.<br /><br />'But caning girls is one of our strengths. It's why the parents send their offspring here in such large numbers. Surely you cannot be proposing the abandonment of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">corporal</span> punishment?'<br /><br />'Oh no, Headmaster. Not at all. Allow me to explain...'<br /><br />And I sat back and sipped my tea as Miss Sidney unveiled her plans, not just for her own House, but for my school.<br /><br />'So, may I experiment a little next term, Headmaster?'<br /><br />I sat back, a little taken by surprise. Of course, such initiative is to be welcomed. Miss Sidney presented me with a very cogent argument. I have been more impressed with this young lady than any member of staff in recent memory. But... but. To tinker with the proud traditions of this school? To undo all the good of generations of caned bottoms? To allow Miss Sidney to experiment?<br /><br />What was I to do?<br /><br />'Miss Sidney' I said. 'Laura - may I call you Laura?'<br /><br />'Yes, sir.'<br /><br />'Laura. I must be honest with you. As you know I take the chastisement of our girls very seriously.'<br /><br />'Of course, Headmaster.'<br /><br />'And I know you do too. No-one could be in any doubt on that score. Having seen you wield both the cane and a rather fearsome leather belt, I am under no illusions as to your ability as a pedagogue, Miss Sidney.'<br /><br />'I should hope not, sir.'<br /><br />'But abandoning tradition in this way does worry me.'<br /><br />'It must.'<br /><br />'And I'm not sure I can agree immediately to your plans.'<br /><br />For the first time, Miss Sidney looked a little disappointed.<br /><br />'No. But I will grant you one term to experiment.'<br /><br />'Oh, thank-you Headmaster.'<br /><br />'Yes, and I insist on overseeing the proceedings for myself.'<br /><br />'Of course.'<br /><br />And that was how we left it. And that is why, in a little over half-an-hours time, I shall be knocking on Miss Sidney's study door to see her plans in action. I have no idea who the miscreant will be. I am not at all sure what to expect. But of one thing I am sure: whatever methods Miss Sidney chooses, there will be one very sorry young lady at the end of it. And fear not, I will return shortly to tell you all about it.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329715552462055730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEADS909aF45Fj9gXKFVRTbEsunkC7Y2fOeVfPgDOUqn13dbRw44LLiCWcZvVxq1uF-GAVa8y7h0zMvx3Kwu3lGH_3cn1QwG8j7522x56OPWIVABxBw4xLFdUx9GtA3hAU48wOSrH5-tvA/s400/clutching-her-bottom.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-7328518863464879112009-03-18T04:43:00.000-07:002009-03-19T09:39:15.057-07:00The final countdown<div>You will be pleased to know that, finally, the search for our new staff member is over. We have a new Head of House, and one more than capable of upholding our fine tradition of corporal punishment. After a great deal of time - and not a little trouble for the two volunteer prefects - we reached a unanimous decision based solely on the successful candidate's ability to cane a girl's bare bottom. Of course, there are a great many more qualities necessary in discharging such important duties. But you will recall that we were faced with two candidates whom we simply could separate - except, perhaps, in one respect. Their ability to punish.<br /><br />As some of you have commented, achieving parity in such a caning contest is not without its difficulties. Should each person spank the same girl, in order that there might be a direct comparison? Or should we choose two girls, one for each of the candidates? Or even four? In the end, we opted for the simplest approach. Each candidate would be asked to cane a fresh bottom; we - the interviewing panel - would observe the punishment and draw our own conclusions. Two girls of equal stature - not to mention stamina - were invited to attend. Two girls, I might add, whose ability to withstand severe chastisement is beyond question; girls, indeed, who have been on the receiving end of my most senior cane on a number of occasions. There was no doubt whatsoever in my mind that these two girls could 'take it'.<br /><br />But take what? And how? On the latter issue we decided to bring out of retirement our ancient flogging stool. This contraption - out of use for some years - once took centre stage in our assembly hall. My predecessor had been firmly of the opinion that girls - being delicate creatures - not only needed regular caning but also fully restraining. Thus he had a previous caretaker <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">construct</span> a large bench across which girls could be secured in just the right position for their bottom's to receive a thrashing. There is merit in this strategy, not least because it presents a clear and stable target for the caner. I have myself occasionally brought out the bench for training purposes, in order to ensure new teachers don't stray off target when they wield the cane, often for the first time. Very rarely is it necessary to restrain a girl these days, in my experience. But you will recall that I have discreetly modified my desk for such a purpose, should it be required.<br /><br />My predecessor, though, would always strap a girl down, whatever her age and experience. (He would also routinely carry out his punishments in public, hence the positioning of the block in the school hall.) Having retained this rather quaint item of furniture, we thought it would be useful both to our remaining candidates and for the two girls, Melanie and Jasmin. For they were both - potentially - about to receive the thrashing of their lives.<br /><br />We - the governors, school chaplain, my Assistant Master and myself - gathered in the school library to inform the candidates of the task before them. We issued each one with a heavy cane, and then I tossed the coin. The gentleman candidate graciously allowed the lady to call; she lost. I then invited Mr A to remain with us, whilst the chaplain escorted Candidate C to the door and invited Jasmin to enter.<br /><br />'Come in, come in dear girl' I called, for I could tell she was a little nervous. This girl has been caned before the school, and more than once, but a distinguished, adult audience clearly brings its own, special levels of anxiety.<br /><br />'This is Jasmin' I said to Mr A, 'who has kindly volunteered to receive <em>your</em> caning.' Jasmin smiled and shook the gentleman's hand. As she unzipped her skirt and removed her knickers, I reminded everyone what was about to happen. Until that moment, both the candidate and poor Jasmin had assumed that they would be at either end of just another caning. But this would be a caning with a difference.<br /><br />'Everything clear?' I asked. Jasmin was now standing, naked from the waist down, waiting to be strapped down to the block. I nodded to Mr Emery, indicating that he should oblige the girl, wished the candidate 'good luck' and then resumed my seat.<br /><br />The process of affixing six leather straps to the girl's ankles, wrists and thighs took several minutes, and I was grateful to the Chairman of Governors for his suggestion earlier that both girls try the bench for size before the day in question. Thus Jasmin knew precisely where to place each limb, standing upright while her legs were pinioned and then bending over and stretching out her arms so that her wrists could be secured. Once Jasmin was thus fastened, I nodded to the candidate and invited him to begin. He stepped forward, measured the long cane carefully across the girl's bare bottom then - without once tapping - raised it high and brought it smartly down across her buttocks. Jasmin closed her eyes and grimaced.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Whiiiish</span>!' </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The sound of the cane echoed in the great expanse of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">medieval</span> library, and I felt sure both Melanie and our other candidate, sitting outside, would be able to hear. We had placed the bench so that we had a clear view both of the girl's backside and - thanks to a strategically-placed mirror - of her face. As stroke two sliced like a cord across her naked flesh we were thus able to observe a slight gritting of the teeth, and as strokes three and four hit home we noticed Jasmin's eyes scrunch tighter and her fists clench. Five, six and seven made a lot of noise as the rattan sizzled through the air and cracked like a rifle shot on Jasmin's poor bare bottom. But - so far - the girl herself was silent. On stroke eight I noticed her opening her eyes; stroke nine must have caught her unawares, as she gasped audibly and looked directly in the mirror. By stroke ten she had caught my eye and seemed keen to keep my gaze. I knew we were almost there, but the brave girl took another two, three, four strokes before I finally detected a slight nodding of her head to indicate that she had had enough. Fourteen fearsome strokes. As the straps were unbuckled I thanked Mr A and invited him to take a seat outside the library. Jasmin stood before us - rather shakily - gaining her composure as the panel inspected the damage closely. We were impressed with the candidates accuracy and asked the girl to give us her opinion of each strokes severity. She confirmed my initial impression that the gentleman had 'warmed' to his task somewhat, only really administering strokes of adequate severity in the latter stages of the punishment. I thanked her, and she dressed herself and went back to her class.<br /><br />'Mr Emery, would you invite Miss C and Melanie to come before us?'<br /><br />I rather fancy Miss C knew by now what she was in for. Whether she had counted out the strokes or not, I don't know. Melanie was certainly under no illusions as to what was now required, smartly removing her skirt and knickers and standing to attention at the whipping bench. As she <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">leant</span> forward, allowing Mr Emery to strap her wrists, I explained to Miss C that - although she was required to cane the girl until she indicated she could take no more - on no account must she pay any attention to the number of strokes. She must administer what she considers a severe punishment, and keep on lifting up the cane until I call a halt to the proceedings.<br /><br />With Melanie thus strapped down and unable to move, I invited the lady to step up to the mark and commence her caning.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Swiiiiiiish</span> = crack!' Stroke one was about as hard as I have ever seen a cane used. You might recall this woman chose a leather strap with which to beat a girl in the earlier round of interviews. She was thus clearly used to wielding an implement with considerable force. Melanie, whose eyes had been shut tight in anxious anticipation, suddenly opened them in wild surprise and not a little apprehension.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Whiiiiish</span> - smack!' Stroke two evinced a swallowed gasp from the poor girl, and by stroke three she was blowing like a cross-country runner. Her fists were clenched and - if she had been able - she would have clearly been hopping round the library in acute discomfort.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Swooooosh</span> - whack!' By stroke three I had caught the girl's eye in the mirror. Surely she wasn't going to give way so easily? Melanie - whom I had caned at least a dozen times before, and often in assembly - would surely hold her composure longer. Wouldn't she?<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Swiiiiiish</span> - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">smaaaack</span>!'<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Arrghh</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">oww!</span>' the girl emitted, quietly. I looked at her. She lowered her head, indicating that Miss C was to continue. This time I observed closely the woman's technique. Instead of raising the cane vertically, most of the withdrawing movement seemed horizontal. Only when the cane was well behind her, did her wrist cock and the cane flick upwards momentarily, before whizzing down and across and slicing into Melanie's bare bottom.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Ohh!</span>' she cried. But she was brave. And although we could all see five stinging, throbbing stripes across her smooth white <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">nates</span>, Melanie put her head back down and braced herself for stroke number six.<br /><br />'<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Whiiiiiishhhh</span> - CRACK!'<br /><br />The last one was a corker. Melanie's head shot up in alarm, she caught my eye and nodded her head as quickly as she could.<br /><br />'Thank you, Miss C' I said. 'I think we've seen enough.'<br /><br />As Melanie was helped back to her feet I offered her my handkerchief.<br /><br />'Well done, my dear' I said. 'Well done. Was it too bad?'<br /><br />'Worse,' she sniffed while pulling up her knickers.<br /><br />'Really?'<br /><br />'Yes, sir - even worse than you! If this lady doesn't get the job,' she sniffed, 'then I'm going to get my parents to remove me from this school and send me to whichever school she works at.'<br /><br />As I said then, a unanimous decision. And not just among the panel!</div><div> </div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314939224029172370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 334px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 377px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEHSe0OMbU8sFDV3nOZe03Lqz6H06RAtlogLssAqI0P055KQpfq9Rm556ZSA2nqwZkUIPHO5pEFDZH7tH1oIuxFNoMRvpbJSCcUy2rVMBJLFNj5BF0qsBwxa8jj0saZr8Ei6CLfpESvrL/s400/dir-001-0075.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-488016350958018782009-03-12T03:00:00.000-07:002009-03-12T03:47:55.340-07:00So many girls...As we await the return of the two final candidates for the trial caning later today, my mind turns to the problem of chastising so many <em>different</em> girls. I refer not only to the variety of physical attributes: girls with well-rounded <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">gluteous</span> muscles, girls with small, soft cheeks; girls with abundant 'padding' and those with very little flesh for protection. All those things are, of course, important. It would be no use whatsoever using a small, thin cane on a round, plump bottom. Oh no. And it would be a tad unfair to use the heaviest cane at my disposal on a willowy young thing with a tiny bottom. No. I see it as my duty to select precisely the right tool for the job. And a lifetime's experience usually means my judgement is sound. I make mistakes, of course. Who wouldn't. I have seen girls receive their caning and then leave my study with barely a shrug of their adolescent shoulders. Girls with, perhaps, a higher pain-threshold than I had allowed for, or whose bare bottoms - pert and round - I did not anticipate withstanding a more serious flogging. It doesn't often happen, but when it does then you can guarantee I'll have them bending over in my office on some pretext just a few days later. And this time, I will not allow myself to be deceived by the appearance of a pair of smooth, firm (and unmarked) cheeks. I will select a heavier instrument, and deal with the matter in hand before adding one or two extra strokes to make up for my inadvertent leniency. No girl must go <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">unpunished</span> here, and no-one - least of all the girls - would expect less than they deserve. Occasionally, of course, the opposite situation might occur: a girl is caned a little more <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">severely</span> than I had intended. But this is rare. I am usually able to select precisely the right implement for the job in hand, and everyone leaves my study <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">satisfied</span> that justice has been done.<br /><br />But as well as the physical attribute of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">young</span> ladies, we must consider their <em>personalities.</em> Some girls are psychologically robust, and they are often the sporty ones. They enter my study with a certain nonchalance I find endearing. They stand before my desk and listen carefully to what I have to say, before quickly unzipping their skirt, stepping out of their knickers and bending over, very matter-of-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">factly</span>, for their punishment. Many touch their toes with ease; some merely rest their hands upon their knees. All look up. All turn round to see what I am doing. None makes a sound, other than the slightest sigh each time the cane strikes their bare <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">nates</span>. Of course, these girls are often fine physical <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">specimens</span>, too. Their buttocks are firm, the muscles well-developed. They almost always receive the attentions of a heavier rattan, and receive it well. They stand, smartly, at the conclusion of their chastisement, dress quickly, thank me politely and even sometimes smile as they leave my study. These are the girls I like caning best.<br /><br />There is another type, of course. The less <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">physically</span>-minded, the more cerebral kind of girl. The arts student. Such girls frequently write poetry. They present themselves on the rare occasions they are guilty of some serious misdemeanour and can barely look at me. Some are crying quietly already. Almost all find being asked to bare their bottoms an unbearable humiliation, by far the most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">distressing</span> aspect of their punishment. For them I almost always choose a light wand; they will be caned merely for form. They expect to be caned, of course, and caned they must be. But it will altogether be a less severe affair than for many other girls. Theses girls are the ones who - once devoid of knickers - turn and present their bottoms to me shyly, hardly bending over at all at first. They flinch as the the cane gently taps their buttocks; they hold their breath. They may even cry as the strokes land. But they will never squeal. No girl squeals, no matter how sensitive her bottom or her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">temperament</span>. And if they think they might, a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">handkerchief</span> is offered to bite into as the cane does its work.<br /><br />I will, of course, write more specifically about such girls on another occasion. For now, I must prepare things for the final stages of our staff selection. I have, of course, chosen two of our most sporty girls for this afternoon's deliberations: two girls who will bare their bottoms happily, and withstand whatever is meted out to them by our candidates. And, of course, I shall announce the results here in due course. Which just leaves me with a question: which 'type' of girl are you? Are you frightened of the cane, or might you secretly desire it? <div> </div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312250935027829954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 260px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixShmnmKW6vBzhMTWEer9SV0O3t4qdq2lbklfDO6rUU3ob6FjH3razGknTDq-hUi6CcoLwqyCFJe0VG6PE_e2gTUFrmEZW0TJj1bxI7vu4-HBMc5buq2hAHbaHmI75Q1o_SliDXZkrY3A/s400/tgp200200918.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-68406673903229921672009-03-02T05:14:00.000-08:002009-03-02T05:51:11.992-08:00The final applicantTo complete the task started some considerable time ago, I am today finally at liberty to reveal the outcome of our deliberations regrading the vacant post of Head of House. You will recall that when the <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2008/12/interview.html">interviews</a> took place, earlier this year, we invited each of the candidates to demonstrate their disciplinary prowess both by determining the punishment they considered to be most appropriate to a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre</span>-supplied fictitious misdemeanour, and also by then executing their chosen punishment on the bare bottom of a senior girl selected for the purpose. Well, dear reader, it was a close-run thing. Although, on the basis of a rather lacklustre caning, it was possible to eliminate <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2009/02/candidate-d.html">Candidate D</a> at an early stage in our deliberations, the remaining three candidates each brought their own unique quality to the post, and I would have been happy to employ each one of them. Sadly, there is but one vacancy, and difficult decisions must be made. <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2009/02/lady-spanks.html">Candidate C,</a> you may recall, was the only one of the four not to use a cane. Nevertheless, poor Charlotte Edward's bottom showed more than adequate signs of the severity of her punishment, so we duly kept her in the running. We all admired <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2009/01/candidate-b.html">Candidate B's </a>ingenuity in making an example of Miss Knowles'. You may recall that, after caning her (as Head Girl) for setting such a poor example to the juniors he then made her stand in the corridor for everyone to see. Such a shaming example would certainly have redressed any imbalance caused by such a serious misdemeanour, but the panel felt that total nudity in punishment was rather unnecessary, and we thus dismissed Candidate B from contention. Which left the first candidate we interviewed. He had the challenge of chastising not one, but two of our girls and both Katie and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Rebecca</span> were impressed by his accuracy. Although poor <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Rebecca</span> - in her assumed role as the instigator of the inappropriate relationship with a younger girl - received rather too many strokes (a total of twelve) we nevertheless felt that this gentleman had the necessary skill and judgement we required.<br /><br />We were thus left with the unenviable task of deciding between two extremely worthy candidates. As a woman, Candidate C was ideal in so many ways. But then <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2009/01/interview-pt-2.html">Mr A </a>, too, had so much to recommend him. I regret we could not separate the two candidates. We invited all three of the girls who had been disciplined by these candidates to give the panel the benefit of their opinion. But we found each of the girls arguing an intelligent case for the one who had punished them. Charlotte Edwards spoke very highly of Miss C's ability with the strap, and both Katie and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Rebecca</span> (now a little calmer) argued strongly that house discipline would be extremely secure in the hands of Candidate 'A'. Thus stuck on the horns of a dilemma, we decided there was only one thing for it. Both candidates would be invited back for a 'spank off'. This time, there will be none of the added pretence of role-play. Indeed, we will allow neither candidate the luxury either of choosing an implement, or determining the appropriate punishment. I will reconvene the interview panel, select two girls from the upper sixth, and invite each candidate in turn to cane the girls in front of us. That should settle the matter properly. Now, any volunteers?<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308587071410540354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 287px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZnz_Kgz_6tdgpLNTTDBGK4Hedx-nEGV7ab49qSWVsdesFwpLlmHmHE8Omfg735m_m0tu133Hi4FLzcSRpnvr27oi4X54WstarOgMTrV78Mlrz_2x_0cQm3c0NyI9Asqc9-C5qSobIlD2/s400/j126_cara24b.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-90717392505348770292009-02-18T06:44:00.000-08:002009-02-18T07:31:19.454-08:00Candidate 'D'<div>Candidate D was the youngest applicant recently interviewed for the position of Housemaster. As with all the applicants, he was well-qualified and could boast a breadth of experience which belied his youth (he was just 29). Under normal circumstances I would hesitate to short-list someone of such tender years, but there was something about the candidate which suggested further investigation, and we duly summoned him for interview. As with the other candidates, he was required both to demonstrate his judgement in determining a suitable punishment for a naughty schoolgirl, and his physical prowess in carrying the punishment out.<br /><br />As an athlete, we anticipated that this gentleman would have the physical strength to inflict a painful lesson on the bottom of whichever prefect was unfortunate enough to be chosen as his victim. We thus selected Emma Chisholm, at nineteen one of our older sixth-form girls and - in spite of her appointment to the prefect body - a young lady not unfamiliar to the pain of physical chastisement. In fact, her entries in my punishment book run into three figures, and the number of strokes she has received in her school career in in excess of five hundred. Five hundred strokes of the cane! Imagine that! Of course, not all have been delivered at the same time although I couldn't help but notice that on one occasion I raised my cane a total of eighteen times. But I digress. We had high hopes of candidate 'D'. Emma reported for duty at his office, outlined the story we had provided for her and prepared herself for the worst. And, at first, it seemed that she would not be disappointed.<br /><br />The candidate informed Miss Chisholm that she would receive a caning. He instructed her to touch her toes, and then he lifted up her skirt. At this point - not doubt embarrassed by the prospect of revealing Emma's nakedness - the young man placed his hand under the leg elastic of her knickers and pulled them up, in the manner of a thong, thus exposing Emma's buttocks but preserving some semblance of her modesty. No matter, we thought, as we listened to the prefect's explanation.<br /><br />'What cane did he select, my dear?' the chaplain asked.<br /><br />The junior one, the girl replied.<br /><br />'And how any strokes did he administer?'<br /><br />Just three, the girl informed the panel.<br /><br />'And how hard were these three strokes?' we asked.<br /><br />'They tickled, rather' Emma told us.<br /><br />Tickled. Tickled, rather. I need not tell you, dear reader, that we were more than a little puzzled at what we had been told and resolved to enquire further when the gentleman presented for his interview that afternoon. I began by enquiring about the non-removal of the girl's underwear.<br /><br />'We normally require that girls remove their knickers, Mr 'D'. Why did you not deem this necessary?'<br /><br />The candidate explained, confidently, that he considered corporal punishment to be equally effective over clothing as on bare flesh and went on to tell the panel that - in his opinion - all physical chastisement should be taken over clothing.<br /><br />'What sort of clothing?'<br /><br />'Oh, knickers. I don't see pants providing much protection.'<br /><br />'Why leave them on, in that case?'<br /><br />'Well, I prefer to leave the girls with some protection - for the sake of their modesty, I feel.'<br /><br />Dear me, we thought. What would he make of our practice of mixed nude-bathing? Moving along, however, we turned our attention to the matter of chastisement. Why did the candidate choose the junior cane?<br /><br />'I prefer a thin, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">whippy</span> stick' he told us. 'It's what I'm used to with the juniors. I find it perfectly satisfactory' he told me. And I don't necessarily disagree. A thin cane can sting a great deal, and thus make for an instant shock. But with a girl of Emma's age I would habitually expect a heavier rod to be selected. Girls at the top end of the school have had plenty of stinging punishments with thinner canes, and will need something more reflective of their seniority. I found this to be a serious misjudgement of the candidates part. But not quite as serious as his choice of strokes.<br /><br />'Oh, there's not a lot of point in giving more than three' he said, dismissively. Not a lot of point! Not a lot of point? I had some difficulty hiding my displeasure at this stage. Did he not at least consider that he should deliver them harder, in that case?<br /><br />No, he said. He was confident that three stinging whips with the junior cane was an adequate punishment.<br /><br />I am bound to say we did not agree. There was general disbelief around the table, and we curtailed the interview and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">adjourned</span> for half an hour. As the panel sought refreshment, I sat in the hall and reflected on what I'd heard. And it was at that point that I noticed Emma, sitting on a chair at the back. Had we forgotten to dismiss her? Or had she deliberately lingered in order to overhear?<br /><br />I'm afraid I didn't wait for her to answer. I immediately summoned her to the front of the hall, cleared my papers to one side, and pushed her down over the table. Seizing her skirt, I lifted it and then took hold of her pants and pulled them down.<br /><br />'I think we'd better do this properly, Miss, don't you?'<br /><br />I ordered a passing boy to fetch my heaviest cane, and then measured the stick against the lady's bottom. Why, there was hardly a mark from her earlier punishment. I determined to put that right, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">and</span> swung the cane down with all my force. I may no longer be an athlete, and I may not have youth on my size but I do have a lifetime's experience of caning girl's bare bottoms. And I used all of it to make six lasting impressions on Miss Chisholm's naked cheeks on this occasion.<br /><br />As she rose to readjust her clothing, she turned and thanked me for what I had just done.<br /><br />'That was a real caning, sir' she told me. 'No more than I'd have deserved if I'd done something wrong' she added.<br /><br />And no more than your fellow prefects have received from all the other candidates' I told her.<br /><br />'Oh yes, I know sir' the girl went on. 'And I'd have felt so guilty if I hadn't been punished as severely as them. Thank you very much, Headmaster.'</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304160251297622994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 378px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSn5faP7oZ7ng5dB3ZfbexwrOBEvanbSv_szMXDw4TVc-yQbU7Q9dmfDu5g_NZ5NXssvB7AWuj-GjIi5FCB1zK1Lm7INl7pnrxpo2tB9QlBDA5IAsrfSk5Cm5q_mulCjNlwM_UW6H2kxD1/s400/tgp200301010.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-21666656878125016612009-02-09T03:10:00.001-08:002009-02-09T03:48:22.920-08:00The Lady Spanks!Well, it now falls to me to reveal the third in our series of reports on the candidates we interviewed recently for Head of House. As Candidate 'C' was the only female amongst them, she had something of a head start; this is a school for young ladies, after all. (Am I allowed to say that these days?) She was also both well-qualified and experienced, but had perhaps not had the pastoral <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">responsibility</span> the post demanded. How would she get on, then, with her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">disciplinary</span> challenge?<br /><br />She was randomly allocated the third of our fictitious scenarios, the one in which a fifth-form girl has been cheating in an exam. For the purposes of the selection procedure, Charlotte Edwards was chosen to play the fifth-form girl. Here is her report.<br /><br /><em>Miss 'C' was very friendly when I first went in. She smiled and told me that she understood I was in trouble, and asked me if I'd like to tell her all about it. She seemed more like a kindly form-tutor than my housemistress. I sat in the leather armchair, and told her what I'd done. As there wasn't much on the card I even added some details of my own, like that fact that I'd done it once before but not been caught. All the time I was telling her, she was nodding and smiling and encouraging me to go on. I could have told her everything - naughty things I really had done, if I'd wanted. She just seemed to be so easy to talk to (even though I knew she was going to 'punish' me for what I was supposed to have done). She even asked me, at the end, if there was anything else I wanted to tell her? I said 'no' and she smiled and said '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ok</span>' and then sighed and got up from her chair and said, sort-of apologetically, 'Well, we'd better get this over with, then, hadn't we?'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>To be honest, I wasn't sure if she was talking to me as a prefect playing a role, or as the fifth-form cheat. She seemed to calm and well, relaxed the whole time. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'I think you'd better take your skirt off, Miss, don't you?'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I stood up and nodded, then unzipped my skirt. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Now, just come over here Miss Edwards, that's right.' </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I stepped into the middle of the room and turned round. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'How would you like to bend over, Charlotte? What would be most comfortable for you?'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Well, I've never been asked that before! I could hardly believe it! Usually you tell us just to touch our toes, sir, but here she was asking me what would be most comfortable.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'I mean, you can just stand here and touch your toes if you like, or you can hold on to the chair. You could bend over the desk if you'd prefer.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I wasn't sure, so I said I'd hold on to a chair. She moved one to the middle of the room, placed it in front of me and then told me to bend forward and hold tight. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'I'm afraid this is going to hurt,' she told me. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>As I stood there waiting, I could see her go to the punishment cupboard and start rummaging around. There were plenty of canes, but she was looking for something specific. I wasn't sure what until I heard a dull swish and saw her swing a massive leather strap a few times, warming up. She walked back towards me with this enormous belt and I thought 'oh no, that's going to sting' but was pleased at least I'd kept my knickers on. But not for long. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'I'm sorry, Charlotte, but we'll have to take you knickers down. Would you like me to do it?'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I nodded, and she gently peeled my pants down, letting them drop to my knees. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Now Charlotte. Are you ready?'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Yes miss.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Hold the chair <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tightly</span>.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Yes miss.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I wasn't at all sure what was coming. The strap looked very heavy, but at least it wasn't hard and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">whippy</span> like the cane. I've had the cane before and that made my bottom really sore, and I know the cane is, like, the most serious implement, the one everybody fears, the one sir uses in assembly sometimes, the one you always get if you're in the sixth-form, whatever you've done. I mean, junior girls might get the slipper sometimes just because they're young and they don't know right from wrong like we do, which is why we always get the cane. But this strap thing was new to me. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I heard a whooshing sound and then a dull thud, like a wet towel as it hit me right across the apex of my bottom. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Ow, ouch!'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Stand still, Charlotte, or <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">there'll</span> have to be a lot more than the twenty-five I'm giving you.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>Twenty-five, I thought! But before I could react, number two had splattered into me and - if anything - hurt even more than number one. I gritted my teeth and waited. Through the corner of my eye I could see her holding out her arm almost horizontal, waiting and then swishing the strap like a whip into my backside. I imagined she must flick her wrist as she hit me, too, because otherwise there didn't seem too much force in each stroke. But they all hurt. By bottom stung. I felt like I'd been pushed into a bed of nettles by the time we got to number ten. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Right, Miss Edwards, you may stand up now if you wish.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Thank you miss' I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">blubbed</span>. I stood and turned and saw my bum on fire. Honestly, it was as red as if I'd been sitting on the radiator for an hour. I wanted to rub it, scratch it, dig my fingernails in to but she wouldn't let me. I had to stand and feel the pain. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Ready for the next ten?' she asked, in a cheery sort of way. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I nodded, then leaned over and took tight hold of the chair. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Whhiiiiish</span> - thud! </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>The next stroke caught my legs and forced my knees to buckle slightly.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Stand still, Charlotte. There's still fourteen more to come.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>'Yes miss' I spluttered. 'Sorry miss.'</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>The next two or three hit hard into my thighs, and the strap was so heavy it made standing with my legs straight difficult. Thankfully, and I never thought I'd say that, she then moved back up to my bottom for the rest, getting up a real rhythm so that, by stroke twenty-five, I'd lost count and my legs had turned to jelly. When she told me I could stand I couldn't, and I just crumpled on the floor in tears. That would be bad enough for anyone caught cheating, sir, believe me - and when you think I was there to help the panel and that I'd done nothing wrong, well... if that lady can be as severe as that when she's pretending, then she'll have no problem doing it for real. My bottom was very, very sore and I had difficulty sitting down for the rest of the day. In fact, I still have the bruises. Would you like to see? </em>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-12014841184977537962009-01-28T03:32:00.000-08:002009-01-28T04:29:56.428-08:00Candidate 'B'Having heard last week from <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2009/01/interview-pt-2.html">Katie and Rebecca</a>, I thought we would proceed in alphabetical order and read the report on candidate B. This man, on paper, was by far the best candidate: well-qualified, and with a wealth of relevant experience. But how would he react to being asked to discipline a naughty schoolgirl? What punishment would he consider most appropriate in the case of the Head Girl being brought to book for being late on three separate occasions? My own preference in such cases is always to carry out such punishment in public: an example must be made, and if that means ending morning prayers with the spectacle of a public caning, then so be it. But how would candidate 'B' judge such a situation?<br /><br />Lisa Knowles was allocated this scenario. Although she is not, in point of fact, our Head Girl she is a senior prefect. She presented candidate B with the details of her fictitious misdemeanour, and awaited his response with interest.<br /><br />"You realise, Miss Knowles, that such behaviour is intolerable?"<br /><br />"Yes, sir" she replied.<br /><br />"As Head Girl, you're duty is to help uphold the discipline of this school."<br /><br />"It is, sir."<br /><br />"It is vital that anyone in a position of authority adheres strictly to the rules. No one is above the law, Miss Knowles."<br /><br />"No, sir"<br /><br />At this point, Candidate B announced that he would be punishing our would-be Head Girl in such a manner as would demonstrate to everybody that she was not 'above the law'. Without the facility of a hall full of schoolgirls before which to demonstrate this fact, I was intrigued to see how matters would proceed.<br /><br />"First of all, I want you to remove your knickers" he instructed her.<br /><br />The girl complied with this instruction readily, of course. All girls are beaten on the bare bottom in this school; it is something they are used to.<br /><br />"Now, remove your skirt as well"<br /><br />At this point Lisa Knowles reported hesitating slightly.<br /><br />"I SAID, TAKE OFF YOUR SKIRT" bellowed Mr B, "AND YOU CAN REMOVE YOUR TIE AND BLOUSE WHILE YOU'RE ABOUT IT!"<br /><br />We don't - as a rule - insist on total nudity for a punishment at this school, although I have known the gym mistress spank an entire class, all of whom were stripped ready to go into the communal showers after games. But with Lisa standing only in her shoes and socks, she was instructed to lay across the candidates knee while he spanked her 'ten or twenty times, quite hard' reported Lisa, who at this point - in spite of being naked - felt she might have rather 'got away with it' - "I mean, it did hurt sir" she told me afterwards. "But nothing like the strap or slipper."<br /><br />But the punishment was not over. Oh no. Following her spanking, the girl was told to stand, and then ordered to bend over to receive a slippering.<br /><br />"I think I got about a dozen strokes of the slipper, sir, but it was difficult to count - they came so fast."<br /><br />"And was that is?" I enquired, when the interview panel questioned the girl later in the day.<br /><br />"Almost, sir."<br /><br />"Almost?"<br /><br />"Yes - he kept me bending over following the slippering, then gave me six of the best with the cane!"<br /><br />"Which one did he use?"<br /><br />"I should think the senior cane, sir - judging by the marks."<br /><br />"May we see?" I enquired, and the girl turned round and lifted up her skirt before pulling down her pants and showing us her bottom.<br /><br />"Yes, definitely the senior, I should say wouldn't you, Chaplain?" We agreed that not only had the senior cane been used, but that it had been applied with some force. And Lisa's bottom already bore the marks of, first, her spanking, then her slippering.<br /><br />"And I believe you mentioned something about the punishment being a public demonstration too, my dear.<br /><br />"Oh yes, sir!"<br /><br />"How did that occur?" I must say, I was intrigued for with her caning, Lisa's chastisement had seemed to draw to its natural conclusion.<br /><br />"Well, sir" Lisa went on. "That was the clever part. You see, without allowing me to put my clothes back on he made me stand outside his office, hands on head, with my nose against the wall. And as the bell was just about to go, I suppose half the school must have walked past and seen me standing there."<br /><br />"I see" I told her, at the same time smiling to myself. "And was that appropriate, in your opinion?"<br /><br />"Yes, sir - if I was Head Girl and I'd not done as I was told I would expect to have to be humiliated in some way."<br /><br />"But you are not Head Girl, Lisa, are you. And you'd done nothing wrong."<br /><br />"Oh no, sir" she replied. "But I am happy to assist with the interviews in whatever way I can."<br /><br />That's what I like about the girls here - they're so keen!<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296318667371142898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 177px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 369px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbTRd2E33s1TD-BctcsWYXiSDWhqZkDfo5Xvbp9Ontc_G7NMP5APzMVRuXpHotwVamflR69iMSrv9YM7wUiHsAMjR1NOjOPInioP2HBFzU-nyZ85E4Rj2nmK84D1KFpRM5Mv219xV7T1V/s400/dir-003-0101.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-71516673147508663662009-01-22T04:28:00.000-08:002009-01-22T05:50:12.715-08:00The Interview, Pt 2Regular readers may recall my post on the subject of school interview procedures. If not, you can read about it <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2008/12/interview.html">here</a>. Well, said interviews were conducted earlier this week, and I thought it might be rather instructive to place the girls' reports at your disposal.<br /><br />To recap, each of the candidates was presented with a fictitious disciplinary scenario, and asked both to determine the appropriate punishment and to then carry it out. A small group of upper sixth-form prefects was chosen to partake in this part of the selection procedure, their duties being to assume the role of the miscreant and then report back to the interviewing panel. Here is the first of such reports, on Candidate 'A'. This man was presented with scenario number four: <em>a prefect has been engaged in an inappropriate relationship with a fifth-form girl. Both of them are sent to you for punishment. </em>Rebecca and Katie assumed, for the purposes of our interview, the roles of each of the two girls; here is what they had to say:<br /><br /><em>Mr A was very quiet at first. As we entered his study he was reading the details of our misdemeanour and shaking his head. We did not know whether this was because he thought it was difficult, or because he was already assuming the role of our teacher so it was a bit confusing. Katie spoke to him.</em><br /><em>"We've been sent as part of the selection process, sir!"</em><br /><em>"Indeed you have not!" said Mr A, at which point we understood he was going to act the role as if we really had been caught in a lesbian tryst or something, and was actually going to punish us (which, of course, he was!). </em><br /><em>He asked us for our explanation, as as Katie and I hadn't really thought about it, we said nothing. He then asked us what we thought that we deserved. Katie then said we were sorry for what we'd done and promised it would never happen again at which point Mr A got up and shouted at us, saying 'Answer me the question! What did I just ask?'</em><br /><em>I said he'd asked what punishment we deserved, and I told him it was up to him to decide. I didn't feel it would be fair on the others to suggest something, as he might then be given an unfair advantage. </em><br /><em>"Very well" he said. "I will determine the punishment myself."</em><br /><em>He told us he was going to give us the cane, instructed us both to drop our knickers and then asked Katie to bend over. At this point he hadn't told us how many strokes we were to get, so I was a bit confused. We took our knickers down anyway, and Katie stepped forwards and then bent down and touched her toes. </em><br /><em>Mr A lifted up her skirt and tucked it in her blouse, stood back and then gave her the first stroke. It landed in the middle of her bottom and made a straight, white line across her cheeks which quickly turned to red. Although Katie didn't react in any way, I could tell it must have hurt. </em><br /><em>"Count each stroke, please" the man instructed. </em><br /><em>"Yes, sir. One, sir" Katie replied, still touching her toes. </em><br /><em>The next stroke landed about two centimetres lower than the first, but exactly parallel to it. Katie clenched her teeth before she said the number of the stroke, by which time Mr A was already waiting with the cane in the air to deliver number three. </em><br /><em>The third stroke was amazing, landing about the same distance above the first as the second stroke had been below it. I was impressed by this candidates accuracy, and also a little nervous for my own turn. At this point Mr A told Katie to stand up, place her hands upon her head and move over to the corner. </em><br /><em>"Your turn" he said to me, and pointed to the floor with the cane. I stepped towards him, turned around and touched my toes. He lifted up my skirt and tucked it in, then tapped my bottom with the cane a few times. I could tell that he was taking aim. Then it went very quiet. I saw Katie turning round to have a look and tried to smile at her, but couldn't. I was nervous. Being caned for being naughty is one thing, but being caned - and caned hard - for doing nothing isn't fun. Still, it's one of the things the Prefect Body has to do, and three strokes isn't much I thought, so I looked down at the floor and waited. </em><br /><em>"Whish - crack!"</em><br /><em>I felt the cane land on my bottom almost like he'd simply pushed it hard against my cheeks. There was no pain at all. But then a red-hot burning throbbed out from the mark the stick had made and spread across my bottom. It didn't sting at all, but it hurt a lot. </em><br /><em>"One, sir!"</em><br /><em>The next stroke seemed to hit exactly the same spot as the first, although I imagine from watching Katie being caned earlier it hadn't. The pain, though, was in precisely the same place, only this time seemed double. </em><br /><em>"Two, sir!" I called out, and held my breath for number three. </em><br /><em>And I was glad I did, because when it came it sent the air out of my lungs in a gasp. I might have screamed if I hadn't been prepared. Again, the cane seemed to strike me in the same place, only this time there was three times the agony of the first time. I thought three strokes from this man was an excellent punnishment for the misdemeanour we were meant to have committed, and I prepared to stand up and put my knickers back on. But at that point Mr A called Katie back. </em><br /><em>"Now, girl, come over here and we'll have part two."</em><br /><em>Part two! I could see Katie biting her lip a little at the thought of three - but would it be just three? - more stripes from this man. We changed places and, as I walked over to the corner, I turned round to see if I could see the cane marks on my bottom but I couldn't. I could feel them, though. </em><br /><em>I was a little more interested in Katie's second caning now I knew what Candidate A was capable of doing, so I must confess I turned my head to get a view of what was happening as she touched her toes once more. </em><br /><em>I took special note of how far Mr A raised up his arm each time he lifted up the cane, and I can only describe it by saying that stroke number four was nine o'clock, stroke number five was ten o'clock and by stroke number six his arm was almost vertical, at eleven, so he was caning us with some force. </em><br /><em>"Stand in the corner" he told Katie, when her punishment was over. As we passed each other she looked at me and I saw tears in the corner of her eyes. </em><br /><em>"Now, Miss" he said to me. "As a prefect, you'll no doubt be expecting something more severe than your fifth-form friend?"</em><br /><em>More serious? To be honest, I had forgotten this minor detail of the situation. And now not only did I have to face more strokes of the cane, I also had something extra to contend with. I flushed, and spluttered something about it only being role-play (sorry sir, but this caught me unawares!). </em><br /><em>Candidate A smiled at me and told me to bend over once again, whereupon he delivered three more stinging stroke to my bare bottom. At this point I wasn't sure if I could take much more; I've not often had the cane before and I'd forgotten just how painful it can be in expert hands. So when he said I had to take six more as I was senior to the other girl - a prefect, no less - and should have set her an example I was devastated, and I think that he could tell. </em><br /><em>He then told me to remove my skirt completely and stand over by the teacher's desk. (Your desk, sir.) I noticed all the papers had been cleared, but had assumed that was because the candidates were using your study for this part of their interview. But when he asked me to lean forward, bend across the desk with my arms outstretched, I realised he was going to use the leather straps to hold my wrists. I wasn't very happy, but I did as I was told. To be honest, it was uncomfortable lying there across the desk with both wrists strapped firmly down; he did the buckles up a bit too tight and there were marks on my wrists afterwards. And I wasn't sure whether I had to stand up with my bottom was higher in the air or lean flat against the desk and bend my knees, so I chose to keep my legs straight. </em><br /><em>Stroke number seven bit into the very top of my thighs, just where my bottom starts jutting out a little bit. By now my buttocks were on fire and to be honest, I began to think that I could take a dozen more (but I wasn't volunteering, sir, in case you get the wrong idea!). He seemed to work his way up from then on; strokes nine and ten hit home just where the first six had all landed, and then eleven, twelve and thirteen (he gave me 'one for luck!) all landed on my upper bottom so that, by the time he'd finished, there wasn't any white skin left!</em><br /><em>He undid the straps and let me put me knickers and my skirt back on, then thanked us both and shook his hand. </em><br /><em>"Good luck!" said Katie as we left, though I could hardly bring myself to do the same myself. (Sorry, sir!) </em><br /><em>So, finally, here are out marks for this candidate: </em><br /><em>Accuracy - 10/10 This man has used a cane before!</em><br /><em>Force: - 8/10 Not all strokes were given with the same strength, and we thought they ought to be</em><br /><em>Justification: 5/10 Six would have been appropriate for Katie, maybe nine for me but twelve, we both thought, was excessive!</em><br /><br />So, there you have it. I must admire Rebecca and Katie for bearing their ordeal with such fortitude. As Rebecca herself admits, it is bad enough being punished when one deserves it. But do you agree with the two girls judgement? Is Candidate A the right man for the job? More reports from the other girls next week.<br /><br /><div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294114942553621394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 284px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrgNShpegxd5VMi99hI2bHuuShmk_FbIBBCH-OeIZf6944AojVXwsKbPbYtaGm_X3vpJFkF5XP8qmi1ynxUJQ9ydUZOeVWt2jlMjORvrlQK04c4ex7S_96f_lJdE0NpA7pqqoZyVOWNju/s400/hg15117.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-58338750563431366042009-01-13T03:47:00.001-08:002009-01-15T06:29:33.605-08:00Hermione's birching!Apologies, apologies, dear reader. If you have logged on expecting to be regaled with details of Hermione's brush with a bundle of birch-rods, you are to be disappointed. For this post is not about a birching, or any other form of punishment for that matter. No. It is a response to a question on Hermione's blog. She asked why birching was such a common feature of a British spanking, and I offered her an explanation which I thought might interest some of you. For not only is it my pedagogical duty to discipline the young ladies enrolled in this academy - a duty I perform with great solemnity - but I am also something of an expert on the history of corporal punishment. Having made its practical application my life's work, I thought it high time I researched its history. Here are just a few of the things I have discovered.<br /><br /><br /><br />The birch was a sacred tree to the Druids, who believed its branches had the power to cast out evil. Many commentators believe that this is how spanking originated - with the ritual use of birch rods to cleanse Celtic society of its anti-social elements. With the rise of scholasticism in England, the standard tool of the schoolmaster's trade became the birch. Indeed, one Cambridge college insisted that its students (who would almost all have been destined for the schoolroom) demonstrate their prowess with the birch as a condition of graduation!<br /><br /><br /><br />Of course, a birching over clothing hardly constitutes a salutary punishment, hence the requirement to disrobe, or at the very least to bare your bottom. Now, in the heyday of the public school, with pupil numbers rising and this the number of punishments thus increasing, preparing birch-rods (which are not long-lasting) became impractical. Thus the British gradually replaced the superstitious nonsense of the birch-rod with a simpler alternative - the easier to maintain rattan cane. And, although the cane can be effective over clothing, the tradition of administering punishment on the bare buttocks (and in public) remained.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290749460254470786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEEh-pVM26bFfvvKsR4vxB75OitUZ0k8K_vm3bXbU5zGXAu-CRGwxtP682fq9VxQRK2xKlJ_NVCVWA1CXK5LpRm4xal9O-Xqx-Y48Dp7qWZ2MS2dY7WwQd_TAAfcUY1qPzmhwCdiSPES7q/s400/mov2002075.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-39833195769692621992009-01-07T05:31:00.001-08:002009-01-09T03:30:09.474-08:00A bare-bottom slipperingI must say, by way of introduction to this post, that I am not a fan of the slipper. Give me the trusty rattan every time: with the minimum of fuss, a girl's backside is striped and she is taught a painful lesson. It gives a whole new meaning to giving lines as punishment, and as I've stated clearly before, six of the best is more than adequate on almost every occasion. I have a variety of canes to choose from, and I select according to the age of the girl, the nature of the offence and - obviously - the, how shall I put it, 'padding' of her gluteous maximus. A fleshy cushion of flesh clearly demands a heavier stick, whilst the smallest of bottoms can be effectively dealt with using a thin, light wand.<br /><br />But there are times when the slipper is the most appropriate means of punishment. Perhaps a girl has never been caned before; maybe summary justice is necessary and a cane is not to hand. The gym mistress, for example, uses a rubber-soled plimsoll on the buttocks of her sports teams when they lose a match; the music master slippers members of choir whose vocal performance is sub-standard; and prefects are allowed to slipper the bottoms of junior girls as part of their duties. I myself rarely use the implement, but have - on occasion - warmed the backside of several girls in such a manner.<br /><br />On each occasion I have felt the need to refrain from using the cane in order to have a more serious sanction available in the future. So, when a girl first visits my study, and when the nature of her crime is less than serious, I will resort to my trusty training-shoe, the sole of which is now all that remains. An incident of precisely this type occured on the first day of term. A fifth-form girl caught without her boater would not normally be sent to my study for chastisement: a house-master of class tutor might normally be expected to deliver a spanking, either with their bare hand or with a leather belt or riding-crop. As I have already said, certain key members of staff make their implement of choice the slipper, and it behoves me therefore to allow room for an escalation of sanctions on appropriate occasions.<br /><br />'Bend over then, my girl!' I ordered, as Kirstie stood before me, hatless. Being new to the Headmaster's study, I allowed her to remove her skirts, then touch her toes whilst wearing her bottle-green knickers. It is cruel of me, I know, but it is sometimes best to introduce a new girl to the ritual of punishment slowly. Kirstie no doubt knew she would be punished naked; but as she smartly presented up her bottom, she may have considered, briefly, that she was being spared this small humiliation.<br /><br />'Ah, my dear,' I interrupted. 'I almost forgot - would you stand up again and take your knickers down?'<br /><br />Now I was presented with my target: two smooth round globes of pale flesh stretched out by the action of toe-touching. This, in my experience, is the perfect position for a slippering. The buttocks must be taut, the cheeks slightly parted to enable the slipper to makes maximum contact with each cheek. For a caning, it is of course different. A girl thus stretched to receive the cane risks being cut, but more importantly the less tense is the flesh, the more the cane can bite. But with the slipper, it is very different.<br /><br />'Now my dear, I think a dozen should be just about right, don't you?'<br /><br />'Ye-es, sir!'<br /><br />'Yes, a baker's dozen.'<br /><br />'Si-ir?'<br /><br />'Thirteen, my dear. Thirteen - and counted out aloud, if you would be so kind.'<br /><br />'Ye-es, sir. Of course, sir.'<br /><br />And then, always, a choice has to be made: whether to strike each buttock seperately, or both of them together. The size thirteen rubber sole I use is plenty big enough to cover both cheeks simultaneously. But that is not always the way to maximise discomfort for the young lady. Hence the 'baker's dozen'. For I find with such a number as a minimum, I can vary the style of slippering the better to teach the young lady a most painful lesson. So the first three strokes will amost certainly be spread across both buttocks. I raise my arm high, and swing down from the shoulder with considerable force. The sound of the rubber smacking into flesh resounds around my study. It is much, much louder than the cane. There is little noise as the slipper whooshes through the air. But that is more than compensated by the terrific crack as it smashes into the buttocks, parting them slightly as it does so.<br /><br />The next three strokes are delivered individually - one to each buttock, starting with the one furthest from my arm. I have occasionally experimented by standing astride the girl as she bends over, thus ensuring that the maximum amount of rubber engages with each buttock and thus delivering a slippering both horizontal and vertical. On this occasion, though, I contented myself with remaining in position and delivering a hearty blow - one at a time - tthrice to each buttock.<br /><br />'Nine, thank you sir!' the girl called out as the last of these single strokes met her be-reddended cheek.<br /><br />Which of course, leaves four more. And herein lies my constant dilemma. Do I deliver them across both buttocks simultaneously? Or do I continue giving individual attention to each of her cheeks in turn?<br /><br />Well, here she is, ready and waiting What would your preference be?<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289253338603640226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzzZghe5gnOHOSjCDvOu_Uf1_3qibWGkKsxAVXvvxcTZ_0iVFr_OqKqg6JLkl0_9mQV9jp5Ix8BEM0-43Ha4CWag5cZnNQ97tXm0OrF-kT-058B5Ss9ICVcRJKwVippE3rtzKVZgyPpKy9/s400/schooltrouble09.jpg" border="0" />The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-46445187044727418992008-12-30T08:20:00.000-08:002008-12-30T08:30:10.521-08:00The InterviewI have been hard at work today inviting shortlisted candidates for interview in early January and ensuring each aspect of the selection process is in place. Of course, the ability to maintain good discipline is vital in teaching, and as the post we seek to fill is a fairly senior position, the successful candidate will be expected to take his or her share in the administration of corporal punishment. To this end, I have decided that each of them will be required to demonstrate their proficiency in this respect. Not only will they be required to wield a cane (or birch, or slipper) but they will be expected to determine an appropriate punishment in response to a number of fictitious misdemeanours. Here is an extract from the material we will shortly be sending out:<br /><div></div><br /><p><em>As part of the selection process you will normally be required to demonstrate your proficiency in the administration of corporal punishment. A senior girl (normally a prefect) will be allocated to you for this purpose. You will be given a scenario from one of those detailed below. From this you will be expected to determine an appropriate punishment and then carry it out. At the end of the session the girl will provide a full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">de</span>-brief to the panel. This will include an appraisal of your judgement in determining the level of the punishment, as well as an account of your strength and skill in delivering the strokes. You may choose a cane, crop, strap or slipper as you deem appropriate. Punishments at this school are usually administered on the bare buttocks and the number of strokes should not usually exceed 18.<br /></em></p><br /><ol><br /><li>The Head Girl is brought to you by a member of duty staff for being late on three separate occasions. This has resulted in her inability to perform her duties on the mornings in question;</li><br /><li>A fifth-form girl has been caught cheating in an exam. Witnesses confirm that the girl smuggled notes into the hall and was seen to copy them onto her examination paper; </li><br /><li>A sixth-former has been caught out-of-school during the evening. She claims that she was simply out walking, but witnesses report seeing her in a local hostelry with a boy; </li><br /><li>A prefect has been engaged in an inappropriate relationship with a fifth-form girl. Both of them are sent to you for punishment.<br /></li></ol><br /><p>So, dear reader. What would you do? </p><br /><p></p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285620948759828322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 358px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHc0JK1lTofB-0BAUGnwOIJQBkLbA0IIPm8vK7MyhrpNedavJImXaSZpMCnNO_DNU_UXh__k4o2e69uQPISu7Jm8jKnt5by9HcgHBnxea2TMGu26LukrUE8COS10M6HZ-r6F4Jcuy3xEmK/s400/dij106_b04.jpg" border="0" /></p>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-13903494447923539232008-12-15T01:53:00.000-08:002008-12-15T02:14:14.693-08:00In the newsWell, dear reader. My post some weeks ago concerning my public chastisement of the Head Girl created something of a stir. I realise I still have to tell the story of the girl caned for the first time on the stage last week. You can discover how she was prepared for the ordeal <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2008/11/virgins.html">here</a>. But this morning I thought I'd reproduce some of the comment generated by <a href="http://headmastersstudy.blogspot.com/2008/09/head-girl.html">this post</a>. Here it is, as reported elsewhere on the blog-o-sphere (and reproduced with kind permission).<br /><em></em><br /><em>News that St Helen's School Head Girl Jenny Hill had been caned in front of the school caused quite a stir. We asked the Headmaster's of six top Public School's whether they would consider doing the same thing to their Head Girls.<br /><br /></em><em></em><em>Paul Ambrose, Head of Knights House School: "The Head Girl is supposed to set a good example to the school: I suppose that, if she fails in that, an example should be made of her. At Knight's House we don't, as a rule, cane any girl but I suppose if the offence were serious enough I might consider it. Whether I'd go as far as doing it in public or not I couldn't say."<br /><br /></em><em></em><em>Ian Aitken, High Master of St Jude's: "With a mixed sixth-form, we'd certainly not countenance a public flogging like that reportedly inflicted on Miss Hill (she had been caned during morning assembly on her bare bottom; male staff were asked to leave the hall before the punishment commenced). But if a girl was seriously in breach of regulations, a beating would not be out of the question."<br /><br /></em><em></em><em>"Never." said Dean Howden, Head of Graham's. "For a start, to have a Head Girl worthy of such treatment smacks of poor judgement in appointing her. Secondly, the dignity of the role is undermined by such public chastisement. If corporal punishment were merited, it would be meted out in private."<br /><br /></em><em></em><em>Keith Howells, Head of Jenkin's College found the number of strokes somewhat excessive: "I can't see what is achieved by twenty strokes that can't be done in six or eight, at most (Jenny Hill had been given twenty-five strokes, and been made to count them out aloud). The nature of the lesson lies in the public demonstration of the school's intolerance, not the number or severity of strokes."<br /><br /></em><em></em><em>"We wouldn't cane her" Dr Gareth Thomas, Principal of St Chad's School said. "Our discipline policy stipulates that girls are slippered. Having said that, someone in Fiona's position would receive a rather hefty dose - say, 100 or 150 strokes - so maybe she'd prefer a smaller number with the cane".<br /><br />Next we asked the Head Girls of leading schools to tell us what they thought. Did they think such a punishment was justified? How would they have felt?<br />"Sore" said Sarah Appleby, Head Girl of Jenkins. "I've not had the cane before, but I've seen it being given to others and I know it hurts. My friend once had it and it left red marks on her bum for weeks. As for being watched by everybody in assembly, I think that went a bit far, personally."<br /></em><br /><em>Jane Mumby, Head Prefect, Grahams School said: "As Prefects we're supposed to set a good example, so I can see where the school is coming from. We don't have canings on the stage here, so I don't think it would really be an issue, but if I suppose if I'd done something terrible then I'd deserve it. Other people know it's happened, so they might as well see it happening, I suppose. "<br /></em><br /><em>"I think, if someone seriously goes wrong in such a responsible, high profile position, then they should be seriously punished" Jenny Arthur of Knights House told us. "It's a public position, so I suppose a public punishment is justified. Everyone needs to see that prefects aren't above the law; and if they ar expected to set a good example and they don't, why shouldn't they be made an example of themselves?"<br /></em><br /><em>Meanwhile, Jane Hill is back in the classroom after her ordeal. What was the worst part of the experience? "Being on the stage" she told us. "At first, the pain was quite bad but I could only think of everybody looking at my bottom as I lay across the table. That was worse than the cane, really."<br /></em><br /><em>And did she feel hard done by?<br /></em><br /><em>"No, not really. Now it's over, I'm ok about it I suppose. At the time I found it difficult to understand. Most girls get away with wearing skirts much shorter than mine was; when Mr Keightley told me he was going to cane me for it in assembly I was shocked. When I was called out after notices and had to walk up to the front and go onto the stage I was nearly crying. The only thing I thought it was a bit unfair was when he made me stand there while he told the school what I had done, and what he was going to do to me. I just kept wanting him to get it over with.<br /></em><br /><em>And what was the worst thing about the experience for her?<br /></em><br /><em>Oh, the public shame - the thought of everyone in the school seeing my bottom, while I got a thrashing. As soon as Mr Keightley told the male staff to leave I knew he was going to remove my knickers; I knew then I'd be beaten on my bare bottom. I knew it happened; I had seen it done before. But once he'd done it then he carried on talking to everyone about what I had done, and I was there on the stage bending over waiting for the caning to begin, not knowing how many strokes I was to get or anything. That was worse than anything. The waiting there, with my knickers on the floor, with every<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279958010665168594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNas9tFdNN0usAZvK629DmOQhTXtPUfU37n_giYCXWWDYNt53qKJD4DUs4DUrgvQc3i9HHLSC2fX5n9Ens6XOiejNlGH7tpoGGH-8ZE1MaN-GV-Jhm8ClgHmPU9qSDZPn5fgGb11320lQD/s400/p_sp_navy_0012.jpg" border="0" />body watching."</em>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-66867287950763170712008-11-10T03:09:00.001-08:002008-11-10T04:00:56.138-08:00New Prefects<div>I have today invited a newly-appointed member of our prefect body to write an account of one of her recent experiences. I hope you enjoy it.<br /><br /><em>I was proud to be appointed as a school prefect. I took my duties very seriously. Whereas some of the others would wander round their duty area, sniff the air and stroll back to the sixth-form common room, I stayed there all break, walking up and down, making sure that no-one misbehaved. It was my job. I did it well. I took a pride in what I did. Once or twice I caught somebody where they shouldn't be; I sent 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 did I have any problems, and that was in my final 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 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">equivalent</span> 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.<br />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. A fifth-form girl, in an intimate embrace with one a boy from the lower-sixth. The girl had her skirt lifted up and her knickers round her ankles; her blouse was undone and her lacy bra discarded on the floor. 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 girl's hand moving slowly up and down the boy's crotch. Slowly, methodically, rhythmically, sexily.<br />"You two!" I shouted. "What do you think you're up to?"<br />The girl looked up.<br />"Oh!" she said, surprised. "Where's Jessica?"<br />"Away," I said, not knowing if she was. "She sometimes joins us," said the boy. "You can if you want to, as she's not here."<br />Jessica was Head Girl. Something in the boy's eye, and in the way he spoke persuaded me he wasn't lying.<br />"The Head will have to hear of this," I told them. I was shocked.<br />"Fuck off!" the girl said, and then clamped her open mouth to the boy's lips.<br />I grabbed her shoulder.<br />"Want some, do you?" she turned and scowled at me.<br />"Get dressed - now!" I ordered.<br />"Come on Jen" the boy said. "She'll only make it worse for us," and he started zipping up his flies.<br />"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ok</span>, then. Have it your way," said the first girl. "We'll see what Jessica has to say when she gets back to school."<br />"Oh no we won't!" I said, and marched them straight to the Headmaster.<br />I'd heard about The Head's punishments</em><em> from others in the school. I'd seen the marks they left on girls bare bottoms in the showers. there were even rumours that - sometimes - he would cane some of them on the stage, in morning assembly. I'd never seen it happen, though. It seemed unlikely, somehow. Caning girls was bad enough, but doing it front of everybody in assembly seemed somehow far, far worse.<br />After listening to my description of events, he told them they were going to be punished, and punished severely.<br />"You know how," he said to them.<br />He reached behind a cupboard and took out a long, thin yellow cane. I made to leave.<br />"No, stay," he told me. "I think you should see what happens to pupils who are so rude to prefects."<br />He pointed to a place just on the edge of the large square carpet in the middle of his study.<br />"Now, you two are both going to receive the cane," he told them. "Who would like to go first?"<br />Neither of them spoke. They both looked at the floor.<br />"Well, it had better be you then," he said, pointing to the girl. "Ladies first!"<br />The girl just stood and looked at him. </em><br /><em>"What's wrong?" he asked her. "You had plenty to say when you were apprehended, didn't you?"<br />He told her to take two steps forward, so that she was standing in the middle of the study.<br />The girl did as she was told.<br />"Now, remove your skirt," he said. She fumbled with the zip, and then stepped out of her tartan fifth-form skirt, leaving it untidily on the floor. She looked up at the Headmaster.<br />"Place it on the chair," he ordered, pointing to it with his stick. "Then come back here and touch your toes". She quickly walked to the chair, and placed her pleated skirt across the arm.<br />"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.<br />"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 aloud." He clearly wanted him to have a good view of proceedings, just like me. He wanted hikm to see what was happening, what was going to happen soon, to him.<br />The head stepped to one side and began measuring the cane across the girls bare buttocks. I saw everything. Her bare 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 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.<br />"Oh no," he shook his head. "Oh no, no no. I think that's far too lenient today, don't you?" he asked the boy. He didn't answer.<br />"I said, don't you think six a little lenient for what you both did, young man?"<br />"Yes sir," he mumbled quietly.<br />"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 naked cheeks together.<br />"So how many, sir, do you think your misdemeanour warrants?"</em><br /><em>"Sir?"</em><br /><em>"How many strokes of the cane shall we administer to this young lady's bottom? Come on, come on. We're agreed that six is unsufficient."</em><br /><em>"Er, twelve sir?" the boy suggested.</em><br /><em>His girlfriend shot a look of real panic at him from between her legs. </em><br /><em>"Twelve. Twelve," repeated the Headmaster. "That is indeed severe punishment. And how about you, young lady?" he addressed the girl. "Do you think you deserve twelve strokes of the cane today?"</em><br /><em>"Y...yes, sir.." she mumbled. </em><br /><em>"Yes what, young lady?"</em><br /><em>"Yes please, sir!"</em><br /><em>"Quite so," the Head said. "I think we'll give you twelve today, 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.<br />"You will call each stroke out nice and loudly, thanking me each time. Do you hear me?"<br />"Yes, sir" she replied.<br />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.<br />'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.</em><br /><em>"I'm sorry sir," the girl sobbed. </em><br /><em>"And?" he went on. </em><br /><em>"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. </em><br /><em>"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."</em><br /><em>The girl stood up, and twisted her head to see the damage to her bottom. The boy stood watching open-mouthed, no doubt contemplating what was soon to come. 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 friend a better view.<br />The next six strokes were counted out and then again the Head allowed the girl to rub her bottom.<br />"Unless you would like to do it for her?" he asked the boy, sarcastically. I caught their eye. They would have done. They would have loved to. There was something about what was happening that they both found a tiny bit exciting.<br />"Right, young lady - stand there in the corner. Your turn now," he said to the boy. "Bend over!" </em><br /><em>He 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?" </em><br /><em>The boy shook his head. "Stand up, and take your trousers down." </em><br /><em>The boy stood up, and started loosening the button of his trousers. He looked across at me, then stopped. </em><br /><em>"Not shy, are you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Appleby</span>?" the Head asked, seeing the direction of his gaze. "You weren't shy when this young lady found you, were you?" </em><br /><em>"No, sir" said the boy. </em><br /><em>"Neither were you shy of giving your opinion, were you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Appleby</span>?"</em><br /><em>"No sir," the boy replied. </em><br /><em>"And that is precisely why you'll be getting six more strokes than your young lady. Now, bend over." </em><br /><em>The boy stepped into the middle, with his trousers round his ankles. The headmaster pulled his boxer shorts 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. </em><br /><em>"One, thank you sir," the boy responded through gritted teeth. 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 - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ahh</span>, 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'. </em><br /><em>Miss Handley, your turn again, he said. Her knickers were now around her ankles and she shuffled to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">middle</span> of the study. </em><br /><em>"Lets get rid of these," the Head said, hooking them onto the end of the cane.<br />"Now, how many have you got to come?"<br />"Six more sir," the girl replied. "Thank you."<br />"Well then" the Headmaster said and he tapped the floor, then bent the stick against her back, encouraging her down.<br />"Six more it is," 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, j<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ust</span> where they meet the bum. </em><br /><em>"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">We'll</span> 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. "</em><br /><em>"One thank you sir," the girl said.<br />"One?" enquired the Head. "Eleven more to come, then?"<br />"No sir, I mean seven sir, thank you sir."<br />"That's better," and he tapped the swollen little line the first stroke he had given her had made.<br />"Ow! Eight, sir - I mean, thank you sir!"<br />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' </em><br /><em>"One more to come," said Mr Lacy. "Better make it a good one, hadn't we?" And without waiting for an answer, he stepped back two paces, then ran up and sliced the cane across the flesh.<br />"Twelve thank you sir," she shouted, panting slightly, still bent over.<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span style="color:#ffffff;">"</span>Ok</span>, put these back on," the Head said as the girl stood up, flicking up her knickers with the cane "and stand over there, in the corner. Put your hands on your head and face the wall.<br />You next, boy!" he added, hurrying through the remainder of the punishment, having suddenly seemed to lose interest. When he had finished, he invited me to stay and sent the others back to lessons.<br />"So, Miss Sidney, what did you think?" he asked. I didn't know what to say. </em><br /><em>"Very good sir," I replied inadequately. </em><br /><em>"Good - you approve, then?"<br />"Yes sir," I replied. He started fingering some papers on his desk.<br />"Never had the cane I see," he said to me.<br />"I haven't sir,"I told him.<br />"Far too well behaved," he said, not entirely approvingly. I said nothing.<br />"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, after all, is perfect are they Kerry?"<br />I sat with my hands between my knees and shook my head.<br />"So you must have once done something wrong, something that you got away with, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">don't</span> you think?"<br />"I...I suppose so sir,"</em><em>I muttered.<br />"And it would be wrong not to get what you deserve - unfair, don't you agree?"<br />"Er ... yes," I said.<br />"So, tell me Kerry. What misdemeanours haven't we found out about?" he asked.<br />"I don't know sir" I said.<br />"Oh come now," he replied. "Don't be coy. You've just agreed there must be something." And he paused. "Or maybe there are so many that you can't remember?"<br />"Oh no!" I shouted, but my mind was still a blank. I had to think of something. But I couldn't.<br />"No <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">homeworks</span> copied?"<br />"No, sir!"<br />"No cheating in exams?"<br />"Sir!"</em><em><br />"Or on cross-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">country</span> runs?"<br />I caught his eye. A look as if he knew already. I hung my head.<br />"You see, I knew there would be something, didn't I? When was it? In the first-form?"<br />And I nodded.<br />"The short-cut?" he enquired.<br />"Yes sir," I replied. "It wasn't only me sir, though!" I looked at him imploringly. "And it was so cold; I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">couldn't</span> run that far again, sir. I'd have died."<br />"I know, I know" he said. "I understand. It happens all the time. Miss Peacock brings the girls to me, and I watch as she slippers them, and then it's all forgotten. Not a problem."<br />Good, I thought.<br />"But <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">you're</span> now in the sixth-form. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">You're</span> a prefect. You should set an example to the school," he told me. "That makes it a bit more serious, doesn't it?" he said.<br />"Really, sir?"<br />"I'm afraid, so yes." he said.<br />"And the slipper is for small girls anyway," he went on, "as you well know. You don't think I'd have caned Miss <span style="color:#ffff00;">Handley </span>if she'd been a junior, do you?"<br />"No sir," I replied, "of course..."<br />"And you surely <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">don't</span> think I should slipper you?" he went on.<br />There was no reply.<br />"Well then," he sighed "the cane it is." </em><br /><em>He got up and went over to the corner.<br />"Now you've seen what happens K<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">erry,"</span> he said. "I'd be obliged if you would step out here and touch your toes."<br />I looked at him.</em><br /><em>"Yes, Miss <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Sidney</span>, with your knickers down."<br />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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">didn't</span> come.<br />"How many stroke do you think such a crime deserves?' I heard him ask.<br />'Er, six?' I said again, just as I had done at the beginning.<br />"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 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">misedemeanour</span> is more serious." </em><br /><em>Was he going to ask for more. Eight? Ten, perhaps, or twelve? How was I to answer?<br />"But there is your record to consider too," he went on. "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">You've</span> been a model pupil. Honours and achievements in every sphere of school activity. And this l<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">ittle</span> incident was a long, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">long</span> time ago," he said, and tapped the cane against my skin. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">flinched</span>, and my knickers - which I had peeled down just far <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">enough</span> to show my bare bum cheeks and nothing more, slid down to my knees.<br />"Right then, six it is!" he told me. "Are you ready?"<br />"Yes sir."<br />"Well then, bend right over. Touch you toes, Miss Sidney."<br />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 backside had done. The girl had much more padding. I wondered if it was that fact - rather than the force - was what had drawn a little blood. I was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">about</span> to find out. I, who had never even been so much as spanked at school before. The Head of House and hockey-captain, Kerry Sidney, whose names was up on gold on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">all</span> the honours boards for music, for achievement, for service to the school, for netball and for hockey. And now, one final school achievement would be 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 yellow stick that sliced into the flesh of all the girls I sent to Mr Lacy, now about to whip down into mine.<br />"Call out every stroke," the Head instructed.<br />And I did.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266997541719119954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ90VtCb-3xwD8HWQzpwYWCoShxYwM6ZJuyTIalXj_2qNiQFsp2rWzJQq0iY4ApJquJhVLZnfh_RkkLp3ovZ4Sch5DHGhgRLEdmxwFGZOSR3uKd1EG2cHXm6dFmEx633qI1ry1l3WUaZsl/s400/hg15117.jpg" border="0" /></em></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-86810493507584185992008-11-03T01:02:00.000-08:002008-11-03T02:00:17.611-08:00Virgins<div>I intend to talk today about the matter of 'first-time' girls - girls, that is, who have never had the cane before. In my experience, such a situation requires delicate handling. One needs to ensure that the punishment is salutary, without being too traumatic. There is a great deal of apprehension in the heart of a young girl summoned for the first time to my study. As she stands before my desk she will, of course, know only too well what must follow; she will have heard the dormitory tales of girls just caned, and seen the imprint on their bottoms in the showers after games. A girl in such a situation will know, all too well, what fate awaits her. But she will remain supremely apprehensive. Will it hurt? Yes, of course it will - but how much? And how long will the marks last? Will I be able to sit down in class? And, more importantly than anything, will I be able to 'take it' like a good sport. When I have talked to girls in such a situation, this last point is the one they fear the most. They do not want to lose control. They want to take what they deserve well, stand still, receive each stroke thoughtfully, reflecting on the reasons that have brought them to such a situation. Of course, I do my best to reassure them. And it is rare indeed to find a girl who has not been spanked or slippered lower down the school. (The cane, I ought to add, is reserved only for the senior girls at my school.) Yes, it is rare - but not unheard of. But consider the case of Catherine. This young girl - in almost all respects a model pupil - had managed to attain the privileges of the upper sixth, and the responsibilities of prefect-dom, without once receiving any corporal chastisement. She had, I believe, once been given lines whilst in the Third Form. And in the lower fifth she and a small group of her friends had been placed in 'duties' by the prefects for some minor act of insubordination. But not until she appeared before my desk for the serious offence of absconding from the sports field had she ever been faced with a caning. </div><br /><div>'And of course, my dear,' as I explained, 'in your position, this will have to be administered before the whole school, in assembly.'</div><br /><div>The girl was, understandably, perplexed. Not only did she face the prospect of her first-ever caning, but she faced the added burden of having it in front of a hall full of spectators. And all not knowing from previous experience, how she would cope. </div><br /><div>Attentive readers of my former posts will know that, from time to time it is necessary to enlist the support of sixth-form prefects when a caning is delivered in assembly. It is usually a good deal harder than the canings I deliver in my study; I use a heavy cane, and thus the miscreant - in spite of being caned on numerous occasions before - may struggle to remain in the position for the duration of the punishment. A firm hand holding down an arm is all the help such girls need, but most shun such an offer, preferring on such occasions to show the school what they are made of, and take all six strokes without flinching. And it is a source of pride to me that the vast majority of girls achieve this, whether on the stage or in my study. (I do, in my study, have a small 'whipping bench' complete with leather straps at my disposal, if I deem it to be necessary - which it rarely is.) Most girls touch their toes and take their strokes without sound of protest; on the stage, most bend across the table and remain there, motionless but for the quiver of their buttocks, until told to move. But what of Catherine - Kate, as she is known - about to be caned for the first time, and in assembly. </div><br /><div>'This is indeed a dellicate situation.' I informed her. 'Of course, under normal circumstances, I would carry out your punishment straight away...'</div><br /><div>'Oh will you sir?' she pleaded. 'I'd be most awfully grateful, really I would.'</div><br /><div>'I have no doubt of it, my dear.' I told her as she started to unzip her skirt. 'But I meant, of course, tomorrow morning - in front of the school.' The girl looked down. 'You know Kate as well as I do that with power come responsibility, and you have a responsibility to set an example to the school which I must ensure is seen by all. No, I'm afraid there's no question of me punishing you now, girl.'</div><br /><div>'No, of course not sir,' she said. 'I just thought...'</div><br /><div>'Yes, dear. I can understand you concern. You have not been caned before, dear, have you?'</div><br /><div>'No, sir!' </div><br /><div>She was most indignant on that point. </div><br /><div>'I've been a very good girl.'</div><br /><div>'Indeed you have, Kate, indeed you have.' I knew that well enough. 'And in view of your exemplary record, I am prepared to offer a solution to your problem, if you wish to take it.'</div><br /><div>'Yes sir?'</div><br /><div>'Yes, Kate. I will delay your punishment for, let's say, a fortnight. Yes, a fortnight should be long enough for the marks to fade.'</div><br /><div>'Marks, sir?'</div><br /><div>'Yes, Kate. Marks. The cane marks on your buttocks. I am prepared to offer you the chance to test the cane out, here and now, the better to prepare yourself for your more public ordeal. I am prepared to delay your chastisement in order that you can experience a caning first. That way, of course, you will be prepared for what awaits you in assembly, before the school.'</div><br /><div>'Oh, thank you sir,' she gushed, and resumed the unzipping of her skirt. 'Thank you,' she continued, and before I could rise from my desk she was standing naked from the waist down, waiting.'</div><br /><div>'Well, very good Kate,' I mumbled, rather taken aback at the speed at which she has prepared for her trial punishment. 'I will select a cane. If you would step up to the mark, and touch your toes?'</div><br /><div>I averted my gaze from her whispy pubis, but the girl seemed not in the slightest bit bothered by her nudity. As I unlocked the cabinet, she was already eding over, looking at me through her legs and asking, 'Is this correct, sir?'</div><br /><div>I told her to place her legs together. I then draw out a long, thin cane from its protective sheath and swished it through the air. I didn't want to be rushed. Even though this wasn't in the formal sense the girl's chastisement, I wanted to follow normal procedures. So I tapped her naked buttocks several times, and took aim. And then I admistered the first stroke. She gasped, but remained still. The second stroke struck her lower on her naked cheeks; I saw her wince. She moved her legs a little, and I allowed her to compose herself before continuing. Stroke number three hit sweetly on the apex of her naked buttocks, flashing white like lightening before deepening to red and then to purple. </div><br /><div>'Three to go, my dea.'</div><br /><div>'Yes, sir!' the girl called out. 'I'm ready.'</div><br /><div>'I decided to change canes for the remainder of the practice punishment. Although I didn't want to mark the girl unduly, she had to be prepared for what awaited her in assembly. And as the fourth stroke bit, I detected a faint 'ow' as the girl bit her lip. A little bending of knees was inevitable by stroke five, and on the sixth the girl could not help but bend her knees and dig her fingernails deep into her ankles. </div><br /><div>'Remain as you are, Kate - remember, the school will be dismissed at the conclusion of your punishment, and I will expect everyone to see what happens to girls of your age and position of reponsibility.</div><br /><div>'Yes sir,' she said, still upside-down. 'Of course, sir.'</div><br /><div>I went to my desk impressed with this virgin's fortitude. Indeed, I have had more experienced girls make much more fuss on the third, fourth or even fifth occasion they have had the cane. </div><br /><div>I sent the girl awayh after a few minutes, instructing her to report to Matron for some ice, the better to reduce the bruising and have her bottom back to normal for assembly in a fortnight. We wait to see what good the practice may have done. But as she left, I was impressed by the bright 'thank-you' that she trilled. I have high hopes for a fortnight. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264368871261268690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfC373aTqT5Np8S2_ZmgnaZvT8KgxVktU1MWbC2ykIvcy_edtzg4g4gdu6m_wJ8w-P2Ggo_Lj6-_bVvYUYxOaRdhKBPy3999wWOj3g6nY88WBPh4i0l7SsqE4GxfDXXHraaEZ2vJR27G0A/s400/ASL010-251.jpg" border="0" /></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7385344074763370337.post-81390965498456951862008-09-25T02:02:00.001-07:002008-12-15T02:09:39.817-08:00The Head GirlYou might recall my mentioning, in passing, last time that it is sometimes necessary to administer slightly more than six strokes of the cane; occasionally, it might also be necessary to do so publicly. One never enjoys such a spectacle, of course. Morning assembly is usually such a pleasant way to start the school day: a hymn, some notices, a reading of a morally uplifting nature, and then off to start the school day. To have to end proceedings by summoning a pupil up on stage to be caned in front of the whole school tends to result in a most frustrating day ahead. Thankfully, it happens rarely. But be in no doubt that, when it is necessary, I never waver from the firm resolve to carry out such punishment.<br /><div><div>The most recent occasion was just such a case in point. When one accepts a position of authority within the school community - prefect, say - one is of course agreeing to maintain the very highest standards of behaviour. Thus when someone in such a position falls short of this responsibility, it is sometimes necessary to deal with the matter publicly - if only to redress the imbalance created by their falling short. In this way, it is natural that senior girls expect to be dealt with more severely for misdemeanours which might even go unpunished in more junior girls. So when Head Girl Jane Hill, for example, was caught wearing a skirt shorter than the regulation length the other week, I felt I had no option but to cane her, and to do so in assembly. </div><br /><div>I informed her of this fact when she appeared before my desk on Thursday evening; she knew as well as I did that the consequences were inevitable. </div><br /><div>'I'm very disappointed in you Jane,' I informed her. She, of course, said nothing. </div><br /><div>'You hardly need to be reminded you that, in your position, setting an example to the younger girls is imperative. If you find you are incapable of doing so, then we must reconsider your position.'</div><br /><div>She looked up at me. To be sacked, demoted, even rusticated is something nobody would wish upon a young girl of such previous good-character. </div><br /><div>'But how else' as I explained to her, 'can I ensure that the rest of the school knows how important we consider the need to set a good example?'</div><br /><div>'I...I don't know, sir.'</div><br /><div>'Oh?' I said, surprised. For as a member of the upper sixth, Miss Hill will have seen her fair share of public canings in her time here. As she stood before me, struggling to think of some way out of her predicament, my mind wandered back to the last time such a punishment had taken place. </div><br /><div>'You will recall, no doubt, what happened to Miss Jenkins last year?' </div><br /><div>Emma Jenkins was a prefect - and a very good one. I certainly didn't want to lose her. So we agreed - as we always do - to put matters rights in assembly next morning. If the school had seen her smoking, it must also see her justly punished for her actions. That way, the example she had set by breaking school rules would be abnegated by the red marks everyone would see appearing on her buttocks. </div><br /><div>'Ye..es, sir' Jane muttered. </div><br /><div>'Yes, indeed. I'm sure you do.'</div><br /><div>For who could possibly forget the spectacle produced on that occasion? A tearful seventeen year old being scolded on stage like a third-former before being held down by the arms across the large oak table and then beaten soundly on her bare bottom for the school to see. On that occasion, I seem to recall, the girl had merely received a stinging six strokes; it seemed to make no difference to the girl's discomfort. And as the swish of each stroke sliced across her naked bottom I felt sure that everybody in the hall would learn a very useful lesson, in addition to the painful one being publicly endured by Miss Jenkins. </div><br /><div>Now, however, it seemed not. For here before my desk was Jane Hill, Head Girl, who must have stood in the assembly hall as a member of the lower sixth last year and watched the prefect being caned. And that can't have been all. Oh no. She must have seen at least a dozen more such canings in her time here. Such as the occasion when two sixth-formers were caught <em>in flagrante</em> in the Common Room. The boy, of course, received six strokes on the hand as is customary for boys (who are admitted to the school for the Sixth Form, and then only in small numbers). The girl, I seem to recall, had demurred slightly when I told her to remove her knickers. </div><br /><div>'But Miss' I told the school as much as her, 'this young man did not wear gloves just now when I was caning him? It would be most unfair of me to allow you any form of protection.' </div><br /><div>Not that the girl's rather skimpy briefs would have afforded much, I thought as I watched her slowly take them down, then bend across the table. I seem to remember giving her a couple more for hesitating so; that made the assembled pupils gasp. And one such was undoubtedly the girl now standing here before me. </div><br /><div>'Miss Hill, it appears you do not recall the customary well of dealing with a miscreant - such as yourself - in a position of authority?'</div><br /><div>'No... I mean, I do, sir. But...'</div><br /><div>'But what? You'd prefer to be stripped of all your privileges? Sent down, perhaps?'</div><br /><div>'Oh no, sir, no.'</div><br /><div>'Then, my dear, you must agree that together we must set an example to the school tomorrow morning? We must rectify the false impression you have given; we must make sure that everybody sees and understands the consequences of such actions.'</div><br /><div>'Yes, I know sir, but...'</div><br /><div>'But what, Miss Hill? You have had the cane before, I think. Ah yes, here it is...' And I read the entry from the punishment book. </div><br /><div>Jane Hill... six strokes; reason... rudeness to a prefect.</div><br /><div>'Yes, I know sir, but...'</div><br /><div>'Is that the only occasion, Miss?'</div><br /><div>'Yes, sir.'</div><br /><div>'Yes, I'm sure it is. And I agree, it is a pity. But with power comes responsibility, my dear. Why, if you were in the lower-sixth I should just cane you now and get it over with.'</div><br /><div>'Why don't you, sir? I'd take more. I'd take... twelve.'</div><br /><div>I merely raised my eyebrows.</div><br /><div>'Ok, eighteen then; twenty-four; thirty-six?'</div><br /><div>'My dear, this is not about the quantity of strokes. You could offer to receive a hundred.'</div><br /><div>The poor girl looked a little troubed.</div><br /><div>'It would make no difference. You would receive your punishment in public, as the only way of rectifying the great wrong you have committed.'</div><br /><div>'But sir, it was only rolled up at the waistband - I hadn't altered it!'</div><br /><div>'A breach of uniform regulations is a breach, my dear; you know how seriously we take uniform here. And I know, it is nothing like as serious as, say, smoking. But you are Head Girl. Your behaviour has to be impeccable. You have to set the highest possible example. And that is what you have failed to do. And you are being punished as much for that, as for the original offence.'</div><br /><div>Next morning, once the hymn was sung, the notices read, and all other business finished, I began. </div><br /><div>'Finally, school, it is my sad duty to inform you that one girl here in this hall has been caught wearing a skirt of unacceptably short length. Now you all know this is intolerable; it is even more so when the girl concerned has been charged with upoholding discipline, setting an example, being a model of the behaviour we expect from all our girls. Jane Hill, step forward please.'</div><br /><div>All eyes turned as the girl started walking down the central aisle of the assembly hall, head down so as to avoid the eyes of three hundred girls, to say nothing of a dozen sixth-form boys. As she mounted the steps, I indicated for her to step into the middle of the stage. </div><br /><div>'This girl' I motioned with my arm 'has let us all down. She is... she has been, until now, a model pupil, just the sort of girl we expect to take on the position of Head Girl. And, as you know, such positions bring with them the responsibility to uphold the highest standards of behaviour. If somebody in such a position fails to do this, they know they will be dealt with more severely than the rest of you. They also know that they will take the consequences of their actions up here, on the stage, in front of the rest of you so as to remind you of the standards we expect here. I hope I make myself clear.'</div><br /><div>There was a murmer from the girls; I noticed, from beneath the cascading mass of sleek blond hair, the Kerry appeared to be nodding her agreement too. </div><br /><div>'Very well, then' I went on. 'Jane - you will receive six strokes of the cane for your non-compliance with school uniform regulations - and a further six for being Head Girl. </div><br /><div>There was a gasp around the Hall. I invited male staff to leave, and then instructed Jane to remove her skirt and get in position. For a moment, as she lay across the wooden table waiting, I felt a little sorry for her. I let her lie there for a moment, with her knickers on, while I called up two prefects, one to stand at either side and hold her outstretched arms. I then nodded to Miss Harwood to remove the girl's knickers. There was barely a breath now, as I raised the cane high in the air and held it for a moment, before bringing it down smartly - thwack - across her rippling cheeks. </div><br /><div>'Ow... one, thank-you sir.'</div><br /><div>The prefects grasped the girl's wrists just a little tighter as I took aim for stroke two. This time, there was no noise from the girl except a sort of sigh, before she called out stroke number two. I saw her press her head against the desk, and grasp the sides with all her might. No need for the prefects now, I thought. But they remained in position, if only for decoration, for the remainder of the punishment.</div><br /><div>'Three, thank you sir.'</div><br /><div>'Four, thank you sir.'</div><br /><div>On stroke six, I paused, and looked around the hall. I made eye-contact with several pupils who appeared not to be watching what was happening. They knew better than be caught not looking twice. As my eyes met the gazes of the dozen or so male sixth-formers, I considered whether or not I should in future ask boys, too, to leave the hall. After all, this girl's bare bottom was on view to all although I fancied her pudendum, protruding slightly in-between her legs, would be barely visible from the back of the assembly hall, and they were members of the school community themselves, and had a perfect right - no, duty - to observe. </div><br /><div>I must say I like a girl who takes the cane as well as she did. </div><br /><div>'Seven, thank you... eight... nine...ten.'</div><br /><div>She deserved better, for her fortitude, than to receive a slight cut on stroke ten. Unfortunately this is sometimes unavoidable when a girl's bare bottom is exposed to more than six, for strokes land on already swollen flesh, doubling the agony. </div><br /><div>'Eleven, thank you sir.'</div><br /><div>'Twelve - ah - thank you sir.' </div><div><br />Ah yes, stroke twelve. Credit to the girl, though, she bore it bravely. She stood up, although her legs were still a little shaky, and placed her hands up on her head as I dismissed the school, one row at a time, filing past the stage and looking up at the Head Prefect's red striped bottom. Once everyone had gone, she stepped back into her knickers with a wry smile on her face. </div><br /><div>'Learnt your lesson, have you?' I enquired. </div><br /><div>'Oh yes, sir' she replied. 'And, thank you once again, sir.'<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249954257158306146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr-CEmJtYc4PSNFJZ1bvJmS4cON4yc_uZkAGfyI4Dnid4Ns_qIlUPW7RiSPgha5nQhLx-Uma2v9yrlT50z3PrDoW55l67Jif6sO8_daCTFBw0kab4VAzS8_ZHcoGR-N4BtP3s5PBETyZJ-/s400/p_015.jpg" border="0" /></div></div>The Headmasterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05536548176644716762noreply@blogger.com0