Try­ing the patience of a saint

Miss Sven­son had inher­it­ed a very dif­fi­cult sit­u­a­tion when she became head­mistress, but she had impressed every­one by her calm, con­sid­ered and extreme­ly effec­tive approach to deal­ing with the main prob­lem areas one by one.

Her first pri­or­i­ty had been to tack­le the prob­lem of pil­fer­ing ñ espe­cial­ly the pil­fer­ing of girl’s knick­ers from the gym chang­ing rooms and lock­ers.† Michael was one of the prin­ci­pal offend­ers in this area and had proved an obdu­rate case.† Even­tu­al­ly, after acquir­ing some top qual­i­ty school straps, and sev­er­al ses­sions with Michael in her study over her knee, touch­ing his toes and over the arm of the couch, she was final­ly mak­ing progress.

Michael had had a few ses­sions at the school assem­bly where his knick­ers were well and tru­ly warmed, and he had been threat­ened with a tour of the class­rooms where the girls whose knick­ers he had tak­en could see the consequences.

It was in may ways amaz­ing that Miss Sven­son was able to pre­serve her equa­nim­i­ty and not com­plete­ly lose her tem­per con­sid­er­ing Michael’s behav­ior.† Miss Sven­son smacked real­ly hard, but always under com­plete con­trol, more in sad­ness than in anger.

Anoth­er head­mistress might have lost her tem­per, but Miss Sven­son nev­er did.† This report gives the back­ground to the one time that Miss Sven­son was real­ly and tru­ly angry and smacked ìin tem­perî rather than in her usu­al calm manner.

The inci­dent took place as Miss Sven­son began her ìcam­paignî against the sec­ond major prob­lem she had with the boys’ (espe­cial­ly of course, Michael) behav­ior after she had made progress with the ini­tial prob­lem of pilfering.

This was the prob­lem of cer­tain boys hav­ing a fix­a­tion with girls’ knick­ers and bot­toms ñ in the sense of look­ing up skirts, even lift­ing skirts and, in Michael’s case, spy­ing in the girls’ toilets.

It is very hard to under­stand the nature of some boys’ fix­a­tion with ìknick­ers up skirt­sî and this can be illus­trat­ed by con­sid­er­ing that, at St. Mary’s the girls play hock­ey in games skirts while they do net­ball and gym in reg­u­la­tion gym knickers.

One would expect to see the boys gath­ered round the net­ball courts where there are plen­ty of girls clad in just knick­ers for them to leer at.† But in fact, it is round the hock­ey pitch that they are to be found.

It seems that a boy would rather catch a glimpse of a girl’s knick­ers under her skirt, than to see her wear­ing noth­ing but knick­ers.† The lit­tle madams know that very well, and many a time a naughty lit­tle minx had made a vis­it to Miss Sven­son’s study, where there is anoth­er oppor­tu­ni­ty for them to show off their knick­ers ñ though one they seem much less enthu­si­as­tic about.

 

Once the girls real­ized the con­se­quences of this kind of behav­ior there was an imme­di­ate decline in the oppor­tu­ni­ties for the boys to get a ìfree lookî but this also led to a most regret­table inci­dence of skirt flip­ping by some of the boys ñ and, of course, Michael was a ringleader.

Michael actu­al­ly ini­ti­at­ed a game in which points were award­ed.† The basic scale was 1 point for a skirt lift for a first year girl, 2 for a sec­ond year, up to 6 for a 6^th for­mer.† Points were dou­bled for a ìstealthy liftî which meant pin­ning the skirt hem to the back of a girl’s blouse with­out her real­iz­ing it.

Final­ly, and most dis­grace­ful, triple points were earned for com­ing up behind a net­ball play­er and pulling her knick­ers down.† So far, Michael had not been caught earn­ing triple points, but he had had a num­ber of ìchat­sî with Miss Sven­son about his sin­gle and dou­ble points tally.

By way of ìpo­et­ic jus­ticeî Miss Sven­son had spo­ken to his moth­er who sent Michael’s old kilt to school.† This was, by now, far too short for him, short­er even than the girls’ hock­ey skirts, and he would spend an hour or so wait­ing out­side Miss Sven­son’s study with the kilt pinned up at the back to be admired by all passers by.

He used to des­per­ate­ly wish that he could have a good stur­dy pair of navy blue gym knick­ers, for such occa­sions, but giv­en his predilec­tion for pil­fer­ing knick­ers, he would be com­pelled to dis­play a vari­ety of ìnot very niceî knickers.

 

His down­fall came on the Sat­ur­day of the annu­al sports day, a high­light of which was the staff/pupil hock­ey match, and as a good sport, Miss Sven­son par­tic­i­pat­ed.† As may be imag­ined, prac­ti­cal­ly every boy in school found a com­pelling inter­est in girls’ hock­ey.† The staff team was in white blous­es, navy pleat­ed skirts and bot­tle green knick­ers.† In fact, although the skirts are short, in gen­er­al there is very lit­tle dis­play of knick­ers, but boys are eter­nal optimists.

Lat­er, in the after­noon when the match was over, Michael was ìprowl­ingî look­ing for tar­gets of oppor­tu­ni­ty, and he sud­den­ly came upon what seemed to him to be a fan­tas­tic dou­ble 6 point­er.† An ele­gant 6^th for­mer was lean­ing on the rail watch­ing the activ­i­ty on the field.† There was nobody stand­ing near­by, and Michael had his big safe­ty pin.

He stole up behind her and took hold of the hem of her skirt and raised it gen­tly.† He almost swooned with delight as he exposed the navy blue cov­ered bot­tom.† But then dis­as­ter struck as he began to insert the pin.† Some­thing alert­ed the ìgirlî and she swung around sud­den­ly and caught him in the act.

Then he real­ly did just about die as the ìgirlî turned out to be none oth­er than his head­mistress, Miss Sven­son, and she was FURIOUS.

How is it that a lady has a sense for the posi­tion of her skirt and the risk of dis­play­ing her knick­ers?† Is it some­thing that girls learn as they grow up, or is it an instinct that they are born with?

In spite of all the ladies wear­ing skirts and the preva­lence of high winds, it is a rare treat for the naughty boy to catch a glimpse of a lady’s knick­ers.† Do the ladies sense when the gust of wind is about to come and know how to dis­crete­ly con­trol the hem to pre­serve mod­esty?† And, as the naughty boys resort to naughty tricks to steal glimpses, do the ladies have an instinct for the gaze of the naughty boys?

Just as the fruit that is out of reach is the most tempt­ing, so the naughty boy lusts to see the ìunattain­able knickers.î† Miss Sven­son’s usu­al style of dress, with her knee-length straight skirts offered lit­tle oppor­tu­ni­ty for pry­ing eyes.

Per­haps, as the joined in the annu­al staff-pupil hock­ey match, Miss Sven­son, had a momen­tary thought of allow­ing the naughty boys an oppor­tu­ni­ty to indulge their fer­tile imag­i­na­tion.† And, in real­i­ty, it was essen­tial­ly imag­i­na­tion, for, in spite of the short­ness of the uni­form hock­ey skirt, it was rare to see any­thing but a momen­tary glimpse of a navy blue knick­er leg.

Michael had mis­tak­en Miss Sven­son for a 6^th form girl and, in line with the stu­pid point-scor­ing game that he had invent­ed, he saw an oppor­tu­ni­ty for a ìdou­ble 6î score (6 points for reveal­ing a 6^th-for­mer’s knick­ers, dou­bled for pin­ning up the back of the skirt.

He had raised the skirt at the back ready to put the pin in place, per­haps he paused to admire the expanse of navy blue cot­ton cov­er­ing the ìgirl’sî exquis­ite­ly formed bot­tom, and that was his undoing.

Miss Sven­son’s ìla­dy’s intu­itionî alert­ed her to the rais­ing of the hem of her skirt and she spun around, a hand sweep­ing the hem instinc­tive­ly back into place.† Per­haps her ini­tial thought was that there had been a gust of wind, and as she swung around, she was dis­con­cert­ed to find Michael stand­ing right behind her.

Her hands went instinc­tive­ly to the seat of her skirt, smooth­ing it down and then she not­ed Michael with a look of shock and hor­ror on his face as he real­ized what he had done.† Ini­tial­ly she was a lit­tle dis­ori­ent­ed, unsure of exact­ly what had occurred, and then she came to the shocked real­iza­tion that Michael had actu­al­ly dared to lift up the hem of her skirt.

What do you think you are doing?† Did you touch my skirt?† Michael was just speech­less, and could only gape open mouthed.† Instinc­tive­ly, Miss Sven­son gave him an almighty smack round the side of his head and grabbed him by the wrist.

She quick­ly col­lect­ed her­self and paused to count to 5.† She then began to drag him by the wrist towards the school build­ings, berat­ing and scold­ing him as she pulled him along.† She was a bit like a pot boil­ing over and every few steps, she would pause and wal­lop him round the legs and con­tin­ue the scold­ing and promis­es of what was to come.

As they pro­gressed, an audi­ence accu­mu­lat­ed as the girls saw their tor­men­tor final­ly brought to jus­tice.† Each flur­ry of smacks was greet­ed by cheers and by the time they reached the office, there were a dozen or so girls and a few teach­ers watch­ing the proceedings.

By this time, Miss Sven­son’s anger had reached full boil­ing point, and her mind was full of thoughts of mur­der.† Real­iz­ing that she need­ed a moment to just gath­er her thoughts and decide exact­ly what to do, she left him in charge of the school sec­re­tary while she went into her office to change clothes and to plan the next step.† Before going into her office she asked the sec­re­tary to ìget his shorts and knick­ers offî and I will be out in a minute to deal with him.

Now, although Miss Sven­son nev­er hes­i­tat­ed to smack on the bare bot­tom, she did­n’t approve at all of ìnu­di­tyî or exces­sive expo­sure but on this occa­sion, per­haps because of the nature of Michael’s offense, his shorts and knick­ers came right off, leav­ing him in only his short t‑shirt.

Miss Sven­son’s first instinct was to reach for the real­ly big heavy tawse and to thrash Michael ìwith­in an inch of his lifeî but she also real­ized that in her furi­ous state, she might either ìdam­ageî him, or else feel bound to stop before she had ful­ly vent­ed her fury.† So, she select­ed the short ìsmack­ing strapî and resolved to give him a smack­ing that would go down in history.

This was cer­tain­ly not a deci­sion to be ìle­nien­tî — far from it, if any­thing it was part of a deci­sion to be as severe as pos­si­ble.† She had decid­ed that the smack­ing would be only the first com­po­nent, and it would be fol­lowed in due time by a sound thrash­ing with the big strap.† And, in addi­tion, the smack­ing that she had in mind was cer­tain­ly not a soft option.

Miss Sven­son’s usu­al approach to severe pun­ish­ment took the form of ìset­sî of wal­lops with the cane or the strap.† Sets were usu­al­ly 24 at a time, and she required the recip­i­ent to keep count.

In spite of the sever­i­ty of the strokes, boys devel­op ìde­fense mech­a­nism­sî to cope with such strap­pings.† In a 24 stroke strap­ping, the boy will grit his teeth through the first 6, and then ìcount downî through to the end of the first 12 and then focus on the fact that it is more than half over and then, before he knows it, he is count­ing out the last 6 towards the end.† In addi­tion, boys real­ize that the need to count, gives them a pos­si­bil­i­ty (just a lit­tle) do delay the count to ìcon­trolî the tim­ing of strokes.

With a ìsmack­ingî there is no set num­ber for the boy to focus on, and there is no steady pace for the strokes.† Repeat­ed hard smacks on the same place cause a build-up of pain that feels like an unquench­able fire that becomes unbear­able.† And then comes the real­iza­tion that, even though it is utter­ly unbear­able, it is not going to stop, but it is going to get sor­er and sorer.

That is the point where one gets the hope­less tears , and then comes the real­iza­tion, that it will be even worse as Miss Sven­son moves the land­ing spot from bot­tom down to the tops of the legs, smack­ing if it is pos­si­ble, even hard­er, with the admo­ni­tion ìstop that cry­ingî and ìdo you want some­thing to real­ly cry about?î

The oth­er aspect of these smack­ings was that in spite of the sever­i­ty, it result­ed in a real­ly sore and hot bot­tom, but did no last­ing dam­age, so it was a ìsaferî form of pun­ish­ment to give ìin anger.î

So, it was with that deter­mi­na­tion that Miss Sven­son emerged from her office with the smack­ing strap ready to deal with Michael.

But before the smack­ing began, she resolved to ìget to the bot­tomî of Michael’s non­sense and the sil­ly game.† In front of the con­sid­er­able audi­ence that had gath­ered, she ques­tioned him in detail.† She got the con­fes­sion that he had done it as part of his point gath­er­ing game, and she made him explain how the points were gath­ered and she forced him to con­fess to how many points he had accu­mu­lat­ed and how.

Dur­ing the inter­ro­ga­tion, he had to stand with his hands on his head and she punc­tu­at­ed the ìdis­cus­sionî with hard smacks round his legs.† Even­tu­al­ly, the smack­ing began with his shorts and knick­ers not round his ankles, but com­plete­ly off, and the smack­ing was not giv­en by hand, but with the smack­ing strap.

At the con­clu­sion, Miss Sven­son announced that Michael would be appear­ing at the Mon­day morn­ing assem­bly, dressed for net­ball (blouse and knick­ers) and all the girls would earn a triple point score when his knick­ers came down to receive the big strap.† She said she would announce at assem­bly whether he was to have a fixed num­ber or an uncount­ed thrashing.

She also announced that, until fur­ther notice, Michael would wear his kilt (the very short one) at school, and that it would be pinned up at the back (and she also said that each girls’ class could take a turn at pro­vid­ing the knick­ers that he would wear under his kilt.)

 

 

 

School Reunion

It was late and was relieved to see a light still on in the school office. I knocked and entered, expect­ing to see my old head­mistressís sec­re­tary. But I was in for a shock.

ëElsa!í

Elsa Sven­son had been a pupil at the school when Iíd been there. A girl I had both idolised and feared.

She looked up and I saw a flick­er of pleased recog­ni­tion in her eyes. NonethelessÖ

ëMiss Svenson,í she cor­rect­ed, her voice stern.

I blushed, but smiled in delight. Elsa had been a Year 10 girl when I arrived as an eleven year old, and stayed on through the sixth form before going to uni­ver­si­ty. She was seen as unusu­al and quirky, and although qui­et as a sixth for­mer had a rep­u­ta­tion for being eager with her pre­fec­tís plim­soll. How­ev­er I had been cap­ti­vat­ed by her pow­er and pres­ence when I was 15. I felt she was fond of me too, even if she would nev­er show it ñ oth­er than by mak­ing sure my bot­tom felt her dis­ci­pline reg­u­lar­ly, and were accom­pa­nied by long telling offs — and odd­ly, her gen­er­al views on life. It was the only way I got to spend time with her, so I rel­ished it. It was over­whelm­ing to see her again ñ and odd­ly thrilling to find myself still under her power.

ëSor­ry. Miss Svenson,í I cor­rect­ed myself. ëAre you teach­ing here now?í The excite­ment and delight must have been clear in my voice.

ëI am Head­mistress here now! I joined the school straight from university.í She paused, gaz­ing at me with obvi­ous mem­o­ries in her mindís eye. ëWell, Tim­o­thy, it is nice to see you again. The last time I saw you, you were scam­per­ing out my door with your hands clamped to your bot­tom. Such a cute 15 year old at the time. Well, what can I do for you?í

I stam­mered my reply, still blush­ing at her com­ment. ëI phoned the school last week,í I said. ëI need a copy of my exam scores. For a course I want to attend.í

ëOh dear, lost the orig­i­nals, have you? That was very sil­ly of you was­nít it?í

I flushed again. Obvi­ous­ly, Elsa Sven­son had not lost the plea­sure she got from mak­ing boys under her pow­er squirm. I liked it but it always made me red­den. All my feel­ings were com­ing back to me; the embar­rassed delight of being called to her study-room and being beat­en bare bot­tomed by her plimsoll.

ëOk, fol­low me and Iíll look up your file.í She stood up and led me through into the Head­mistress­es study — her study — imme­di­ate­ly going to the large fil­ing cab­i­net in the cor­ner. Her crisp white blouse tucked into an extreme­ly tight black skirt, which hugged her bot­tom in the most tan­ta­lis­ing way before flar­ing out into pleats below her knees ñ she had put on weight since I last saw her and it suit­ed her well. Her style had a smart but old fash­ioned feel about it that went well with the weight gain and I saw it was even pos­si­ble to see her panty line thus reveal­ing that she favoured full cut under­wear — anoth­er aspect of her quirk­i­ness no doubt. I was open­ly star­ing at her bot­tom until I noticed with hor­ror that behind the cab­i­net was a mir­ror that allowed her to watch me. I did not know if she had seen, and could only hope she had not thought to look up, but nonethe­less when she came back to sit down, I found my face was burn­ing and it was hard to look at her.

ëHere you are; fun­ny that I nev­er thought to look up your file before. You did­nít do very well did you!í She said, and then noticed my face. ëAre you all right, Tim­o­thy? You seem flustered.í

ëIím fine, um Miss Svenson,í I said quick­ly. ëIt is prob­a­bly just rec­ol­lec­tions of the head­mistress going to those files while I wait­ed here,í I added. It was an off the top of my head excuse, but as soon as I said it, I wished I hadnít.

ëReally?í Miss Sven­son mur­mured, stand­ing up again. ëHow many times did you have to vis­it the head­mistress I wonder?í She returned to the cab­i­net, and spent a few moments rif­fling through the dis­ci­pline papers, which required her to bend for­ward. I tried to look any­where but at the seat of her tight skirt and total­ly failed.

ëHow interesting,í Miss Sven­son said, stand­ing up and look­ing at me in the mir­ror, mak­ing it quite clear to me that I could be seen. ëYou seem to have incurred a fair num­ber of vis­its here over the years you were here. I see Mrs Steel had cause to cane your naughty bot­tom a num­ber of times.í She paused to turn and look at me direct­ly, before adding, ëWhat a very sore bot­tom you must have had! All those can­ings along with the slip­per­ings I had to give you. I remem­ber now how often you had lines on it.í

My face must have been crim­son, but I said noth­ing. She grinned in obvi­ous plea­sure, and turned back to the files. After a few more moments of flip­ping through them, tut­ting, she gasped. ëGood heav­ens! Well, well, well. It says here that you left with­out set­tling a final dis­ci­pli­nary matter!í

ëDid I?í I tried to sound casu­al, but I was of course well aware of what she was refer­ring to.

ëA twelve stroke can­ing avoid­ed by your departure?í

I tried to look surprised.

ëOh, Tim­o­thy, now please donít pre­tend you did not know,í Miss Sven­son went on. ëMrs Steel nev­er told me who it was but I recall it because she was most irri­tat­ed and ñ stay­ing touch as I did and do ñ it came up in con­ver­sa­tion. She said she had nev­er had a stu­dent fail to present him­self for a thrash­ing, and the inci­dent was a thorn in her side.í

Her voice was now show­ing signs of grow­ing annoy­ance, and I start­ed to feel dou­bly uncomfortable.

ëSome­how it comes as no sur­prise to dis­cov­er it was you.í She peered down at me stern­ly. ëCon­sid­er­ing the upset this caused, you should know that on her behalf I am extreme­ly cross!í

ëIím sorry,í I mut­tered. She did not look impressed though, so I added, ëMrs Steelís can­ings were always so painful, it was hard not to miss that last one when I knew I had the chance.í

ëI under­stand that. She was no less strict with me.í She smoothed her skirt over her bot­tom as she said this. ëHow­ev­er, I can proud­ly say that I nev­er weaselled myself out of one! Shame on you!í

I looked at my lap, and after a moment Miss Sven­son came and sat on the edge of the desk, right in front of me. ëWell, how for­tu­nate that I dis­cov­ered it while you were here. For now we can cor­rect the mat­ter, right now!í

ëW- what do you mean?í I stuttered.

ëI mean that I can give you the twelve strokes of the cane you missed all those years ago.í

I jumped to my feet. ëYou canít do that!í

Miss Sven­son stood up, her face full of fury. ëSit down!í she demanded.

Over­whelmed by her force, I obeyed. As soon as I had, we both knew she had won ñ just as she always did.

She walked to the door and locked it. ëIím sure we donít want any­one walk­ing in do we?í she said in expla­na­tion as she came back to the desk. Now, I want you stand up and bend over the bench with your hands grip­ping the bar tight. Do it now.í

She stood out of the way and like an automa­ton I did as I was told, shocked to find myself back over Mrs Steelís can­ing bench. My legs felt like jel­ly when I saw her walk to the cane cup­board and take out a senior cane. When she turned back to me, I heard her tut. ëNow Tim­o­thy. We both know that Mrs Steel gave pri­vate can­ings on the bare bot­tom so I expect to see those trousers and pants to be lowered.í

My face burn­ing with shame, I stood up and undid my belt, loos­ing my trousers and push­ing them along with my pants down before bend­ing over again.

ëLike most adult men, of course you need a good sound can­ing, and not just because you missed one all those years ago. You need one because it will do you the world of good. I am of the opin­ion that all adult males should have the cane applied to their bot­tom on reg­u­lar basis. In the last few years I have had oppor­tu­ni­ty to cane a num­ber of men and when I do, I do it with the inten­tion of mak­ing the recip­i­ent expe­ri­ence agony in his bot­tom at the time, and con­sid­er­able dis­com­fort when he sits for sev­er­al days after­wards. This is what you can expect from me. Do you understand?í

ëYes Miss Svenson,í I answered meekly.

ëGood. Now do you remem­ber the rules?í

Yes, Miss.í

ëRe­cite them then.í

ëìNum­ber one, I will count each stroke. If I mis­count or you do not hear, you will begin again. Num­ber two, I will not adjust my cloth­ing or rise from my posi­tion with­out per­mis­sion, or you will begin again. Num­ber three, I will not rub my bot­tom after pun­ish­ment, or you will begin again. Num­ber four, I will thank you on com­ple­tion of the pun­ish­ment, or you will begin again.îí

ëGood boy! I am so glad to see you remember.í

ëYes Miss,í I answered.

ëGood.í Miss Sven­son then picked up her cane and swung it back and forth, mak­ing it hum through the air. ëNow, take your can­ing well or we will repeat it.í

Miss Sven­son took up posi­tion to my left. I felt her line the cane against my bared bot­tom and sec­ond lat­er heard it swish up and back. It cut into my but­tocks like a line of fire and I let out a loud yelp. Miss Sven­son was obvi­ous­ly deter­mined to give me the sever­est can­ing she could. I knew I was going to suf­fer at her hands.

ëOne Miss,í I said obediently.

ëGood boy. Now here comes the second.í

The next fol­lowed and I howled and squirmed, but man­aged to count and stay in place. The next two were the same. How­ev­er, num­ber five struck me low down in the crease where my thighs meet my bot­tom and I lost con­trol and leaped to me feet. I quick­ly dropped back down but it was too late.

She tut­ted as she walked back around the desk and sat down. She crossed her legs, the cane flex­ing in her hands. ëThat is com­plete­ly unac­cept­able. I will not allow the set to be inter­rupt­ed. In a moment I will begin again, but I want you to con­sid­er that you already have five painful welts across your bot­tom, but are no near­er to the end.í Then she paused for a moment, before learn­ing for­ward and ask­ing, ëTell me, how does that make you feel?í

I was sweat­ing with the pain and my bot­tom was already very sore, so I answered hon­est­ly when I said, ëIím worried.í

Miss Sven­son frowned. Then stood up very swift­ly, swept around the desk, laid an almighty swipe across my bot­tom and said ëMISS!í

I squirmed and curled my leg. ëMiss, Miss!í

ëGood boy.í Miss Sven­son came and sat down fac­ing me again.

ëIím sor­ry, Miss,í I said more quietly.

ëThank you. That is bet­ter. I insist on good man­ners at all times. Now I am glad to hear you are wor­ried. You should be wor­ried. I want you to be wor­ried. I want you to be so wor­ried, that you are absolute­ly focused on my wish­es. Do you understand?í

ëYes Miss.í

ëGood. Then we will try againí. She stood up and resumed her posi­tion. ëYou will count the next stroke as num­ber one. Do you understand?í

ëYes Miss Svenson,í I said obe­di­ent­ly, try­ing to get into the right head space to get through it with­out mak­ing anoth­er error.

ëGood boy. If youíre lucky, you will walk out of here with only 18 welts on your bot­tom, but do not doubt that I will begin again if I need to.í

Miss Sven­son lined up and let fly the next stroke.

I screeched out my protest as the fire already in my bot­tom was re-lit.

Num­bers two, three, four five, and six arrived with­out hic-cup, spaced even­ly with per­haps a ten to fif­teen sec­onds in-between, but sev­en caught me by sur­prise and my hands came away from the edge of the desk. I groaned as I heard her sigh and tut, and walk back to sit down.

ëYou were doing so well. Now you have a thir­teen welts on your bot­tom. One more than you should be leav­ing here with, but yet again I am going to have to begin again, and that means you will have at least twen­ty five strokes to try and sit on tonight.í

ëI donít think I will be sit­ting tonight, Mis­sí I gasped, squirm­ing to try and relieve my throb­bing bottom.

ëOh but you will be,í she told me calm­ly. ëYou will, because once we have man­aged to make it through this old busi­ness, you are going to take me out to for din­ner and tell me all the things youíve been up to over the years. I cer­tain­ly donít think you should expect my atten­tion to your old debt with­out a dis­play of grat­i­tude, do you?í

I was stag­gered. Her arro­gance was amaz­ing, but as equal­ly attrac­tive — and my heart leaped that she might wish to spend time in my com­pa­ny. ëNo, Miss. That would be love­ly, Miss. Thank you.í

Miss Sven­son smiled. ëGood,í she said, still smil­ing at me, a man bend­ing over the desk in front of her, his red stripped bot­tom stick­ing out behind him. She leaned back; the epit­o­me of wom­an­hood, regard­ing me with inter­est and amuse­ment. ëHow is your bot­tom now, Timothy?í

ëItís very very sore Miss,í I replied.

She stood up and turned to walk to the mir­ror behind her. Exam­in­ing her fig­ure in it. Run­ning her hand over her stom­ach and the high waist of her skirt. The cane hang­ing down from the oth­er hand as she did, tap­ping gen­tly against her shin. ëYes, I imag­ine it is. But I must tell you that it most cer­tain­ly deserves to be. All men should be caned. Hard and regularly.í She glanced over her shoul­der at me. ëDo you like me can­ing you Timothy?í

ëI, I donít know Miss.í

ëThat is a curi­ous answer to per­haps a curi­ous question,í she said, turn­ing to face me. ëYou say you donít know?í

ëNo Miss. It hurts ter­ri­bly yetÖ it does not feel wrong. I feelÖ cared about I think.í

ëHmm. Inter­est­ing. You are right of course. When a woman canes a man, she does care about him. She would not both­er oth­er­wise. Oh, I will admit there is plea­sure in can­ing for can­ingís sake, for the art of it, but what is real­ly plea­sur­able is can­ing a man one wis­es to improve. One which she feels a desire to have an invest­ment in. See­ing him respond and fol­low oneís direction,í she went on. ëWhat do you think of that, Timothy?í

ëI think any man would be very lucky, Miss. To have such a ded­i­cat­ed guide and mentor.í

Miss Sven­son was obvi­ous­ly delight­ed with my reply. ëIn that case, I think I had bet­ter start that train­ing straight away, donít you?í Her voice then changed to become one both lov­ing yet very stern. ëStick your bot­tom up and out, Tim­o­thy, and call out the num­bers clear­ly. I have decid­ed to be extreme­ly severe with you. I have deter­mined to beat you very hard. I am going to have you back here every week and make you the man you should be!í

Yes Miss,í I said nervously.

 

 

Tawse and Cane

My name is Sarah Thom­son and I run a small estab­lish­ment for girls and boys of a more mature nature, all con­sent­ing adults of course. It is run along the lines of a school and cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment is prac­tised as nec­es­sary on the bare bot­toms of any mem­ber who requires it, my staff mot­to is “We Shall Not Hes­i­tate To Spank The Unruly” and we do so reg­u­lar­ly. Up until now I have been an avid advo­cate of the cane and good old fash­ioned hand spank­ings on the bare bot­tom with the offend­er over my knee or over the knee of one of my very able staff who con­sist of Miss Grant, Behav­iour­al Sci­ence, Miss Ander­son, Lan­guage and Mrs. Smythe our Matron. Recent­ly Miss Ander­son had to leave, we were all very sor­ry to see her go as she was one of our best dis­ci­pli­nar­i­ans, and I had to get a replace­ment. The replace­ment was Miss Sven­son from Scan­di­navia who had been work­ing recent­ly in Scot­land who had very good ideas about dis­ci­pline and fit­ted into Miss Ander­son­ís role as lan­guage mis­tress very well. It was Miss Sven­son who influ­enced me to add anoth­er imple­ment to our meth­ods of pun­ish­ment as I am about to relate to you.

 

Miss Elsa Sven­son came to me with great ref­er­ences from Glas­gow and as is usu­al when a new mis­tress joins my group I arranged a demon­stra­tion pun­ish­ment of one of our more unruly boys. For this pur­pose I chose Tom­my, a boy who was con­stant­ly in my study for mis­be­hav­iour, shod­dy work and down­right unruli­ness. He came to my study and was stand­ing fac­ing myself and Miss Sven­son, look­ing arro­gant and defi­ant. I thought to myself he would­nít look like that for long once I had fin­ished with him and told him so. After I intro­duced Miss Sven­son as the new lan­guage mis­tress I informed him that he was to be pun­ished in her pres­ence as a way of intro­duc­ing her to our meth­ods. I then told him to remove his jack­et and trousers and pre­pare for the pun­ish­ment. This meant bring­ing over a high backed chair to the mid­dle of the room for me to sit on and await my instruc­tion which he duly did only now the arro­gance was gone from his face. I sat on the chair and ordered Tom­my to low­er his under­pants. He knew to obey me instant­ly or his pun­ish­ment would be increased and accord­ing­ly if some­what reluc­tant­ly he low­ered his under­pants to his ankles expos­ing his man­hood to both myself and Miss Sven­son. I placed him across my knee and pushed his shirt up reveal­ing his bare bot­tom which I com­menced to spank rhyth­mi­cal­ly cov­er­ing every inch of the bare flesh. After a good warm up spank­ing with my hand I ordered him to stand up and I went over to my cane cup­board. I select­ed a long whip­py cane from the cup­board and swished it through the air a cou­ple of times then while flex­ing it between my hands I told Tom­my to bend over the back of the chair. I then stood behind Tom­my, tap­ping his but­tocks with the cane and said to Miss Sven­son, ìI am going to admin­is­ter 6 strokes of the cane to this naughty boyís bot­tomî and with that I raised the cane high and brought it singing down through the air to land with a resound­ing SWHACK! across his bare bot­tom bring­ing a loud yelp from the naughty boy, 6 times I aimed the cane across his but­tocks and soon he was yelp­ing and writhing across the back of the chair. ìBravo!î cried Miss Sven­son, as I land­ed the last stroke. I hand­ed Miss Sven­son the cane and invit­ed her to give Tom­my anoth­er 6 of the best as I would like to see her in action. ìVery goodî she said and took the cane from me, flex­ing it between her hands then she pro­ceed­ed to lay anoth­er 6 loud SWHACKS across Tom­myís quiv­er­ing bot­tom and the poor boy was now beg­ging for mer­cy, but he knew as well as I did that his pun­ish­ment was not over yet.

 

I told him to get up and as he did so I returned the cane to the cup­board and told him I was going to put him across my knee again for anoth­er spank­ing, gone was the arro­gance and defi­ance he dis­played before as I turned the chair around and sat down, just as I was about to put him across my knee Miss Sven­son said, ìPlease wait,î I looked at her in sur­prise but she went on, ìbe­fore you spank him, may I demon­strate a fur­ther pun­ish­ment that I have used to great effect in Scotland?î Bemused I agreed, I want­ed to see what pun­ish­ment Miss Sven­son had in mind. To Tom­my I said, ìWell my lad, it looks like you are to receive an extra pun­ish­ment today,î and to Miss Sven­son I said, ìPlease go ahead, I would like to see your method of punishment.î Miss Sven­son rose and strode over to her bag and pro­duced a long strip of leather about 3 inch­es wide, an inch thick and about 16 inch­es long with a han­dle at one end and three thongs at the other.

 

ìThis is my Scot­tish Tawseî she announced, ìyou can see it is flex­i­ble like your caneî she flexed it between her hands to demon­strate this, ìand also like your cane it is very swishy.î Again to demon­strate she swung it through the air a few times and it did indeed make a sat­is­fy­ing sound. She then asked for Tom­my to bend over the chair again so I got up and turned it around for him to do so. She placed the tawse across his bare bot­tom and then said, ìAs you can now see, unlike your cane, it cov­ers more of an area of the bot­tom and pun­ish­es bet­ter than the cane, you can also hear the sound of it against the flesh is much more satisfying.î And with that she raised it up and swung it down across the bare cheeks pro­duc­ing a loud ìSHWACK!î and a long gasp from Tom­my. I must admit it was pret­ty impres­sive. ì12 strokes, I nor­mal­ly give a naughty boy on the bare bot­tom as a stan­dard pun­ish­men­tî said Miss Sven­son, ìbut as he has already been pun­ished by your cane and hand I will suf­fice with 6 on this occasion.î I nod­ded my agree­ment and a fur­ther 5 times the tawse swung down on the sor­ry boyís bare bot­tom pro­duc­ing loud THWACKS as it crashed against the bare but­tocks with more gasps of pain from Tom­my and rais­ing a love­ly red glow on the cheeks of his but­tocks. When she was fin­ished, Miss Sven­son said that I should now con­tin­ue with the spank­ing I had intend­ed before. How­ev­er I had oth­er ideas, I need­ed to see and feel the tawse and asked Miss Sven­son if I could. She hand­ed it to me and I heft­ed it in my hand, it felt good. It seemed light and easy to swing and I wast­ed no time, I gave Tom­myís bot­tom anoth­er quick 4 whacks and it real­ly made him yelp and squirm. The swish­ing sound it made and the love­ly crack of pol­ished leather against the bare flesh of Tom­myís bot­tom was real­ly sat­is­fy­ing and I was now sold on the tawse. So much so that I asked Miss Sven­son if she could sup­ply some for me and my oth­er mis­tress­es for future use in my estab­lish­ment. She said she would be hap­py to sup­ply them and also to arrange a demon­stra­tion of the tawse for my oth­er mis­tress­es which she did, again with Tom­my, and after see­ing her in action, all my staff became fans of the tawse just like I had. And that was how the main imple­ment of pun­ish­ment in my estab­lish­ment became the tawse, as well of course as the cane.

 

In the mean­time of course, Tom­my still had a spank­ing to come but instead of tak­ing him across my knee, I asked Miss Sven­son to do the hon­ours to which she glad­ly agreed. Miss Sven­son sat in the chair and crossed her legs and tak­ing Tom­my across her knee she admin­is­tered the best bare bot­tom spank­ing I have wit­nessed in a long time, she is cer­tain­ly going to fit in well, all in all Miss Sven­son was an excel­lent addi­tion to my staff.

 

Charles read the advert care­ful­ly in the newsagents win­dow†† ëGar­den­er required, full time, five days a week톆 ëWowí he thought, and wrote down the phone num­ber and address quick­ly as he need­ed to return with­in the hour to Aunt Elsa.†† She did not tol­er­ate late­ness and excus­es from any­one, and least of all from him.

 

Look­ing appre­hen­sive­ly at his watch Charles ran the last fifty yards to his Aunts house. The neigh­bours occa­sion­al­ly saw his fleet­ing fig­ure always run­ning, round the small Hert­ford­shire vil­lage, and decid­ed that this young man must be on a fit­ness drive!

 

ëIíve seen an ide­al job adver­tise­ment Aunt Elsa톆 Charles said breath­less­ly.† He had been liv­ing with his beau­ti­ful Aunt for a num­ber of months now, and she had insist­ed that he should now look for some gain­ful employment.

 

ëI was tidy­ing your room this morn­ingí Aunt Elsa said dis­mis­sive­ly, ëand I found some dis­gust­ing and quite filthy porno mag­a­zines under your bed, togeth­er with some smelly wet tis­sues. What have you become, Charles?††† Noth­ing more than a per­vert!† This type of behav­iour will not be tol­er­at­ed by me, and cer­tain­ly would not hap­pen in my coun­try.† Real men do not do such juve­nile things in Scandinavia!í

 

ëIímÖIím sor­ry Aunt Elsaí

 

ëGo down to the cel­lar and wait for me there, fetch the cane also thatís hang­ing up in your bedroomí

 

ëNoÖ.No Aunt ElsaÖÖÖÖ­Please!† No… .í

 

But Elsa looked at him with sheer dis­gust in her strong blue eyes and he knew imme­di­ate­ly it was no use. He could not win, and felt once again the strange but enjoy­able feel­ing as his back went cold from his ner­vous­ness and his knees felt like large chunks of jelly.

 

ëI should have realised I was in trou­ble, as Elsa is wear­ing her black stock­ingsÖí Charles thought to himself

 

Elsa decid­ed to wait for fif­teen min­utes, and used this time to change her cloth­ing††† She now wore a white blouse, pen­cil skirt which just touched her knees, black seamed stock­ings and three inch stilet­to shoes.† Her long beau­ti­ful blonde hair was tied back into a pony tail

 

She looked at her reflec­tion in her full sized bed­room mirror.

 

ëDamm!í…† She noticed a lad­der in her black seamed stockings.

ëWell, I will pun­ish him for that tooí she thought to her­self, and smiled sweetly.

 

Her steps echoed on the cold flag­stone stairs as she descend­ed slow­ly and deliberately

Charles could hear her com­ing, and shiv­ered in the dark­ness the oth­er side of the door, he was kneel­ing naked, and felt an elec­tri­fied ter­ror run­ning through his cold body

 

When Aunt Elsa switched on the cel­lar light she said

ëCome here, and posi­tion your­self over my whip­ping benchí

Swish! Went the cane, time after time again, tears filled his eyes, and the pain seared his bottom

 

ëOh. But Charles, you are not count­ing the strokes of the cane, nor say­ing ëThank You Aun­tieí either, so lets start again shall we?í

 

ëOne…† †Thank you Auntie,

ëTwo,Ö Thank you Auntie,

ëThree,… Thank you Auntieí

 

Once Charles count­ed to twelve, Aun­tie Elsa decid­ed to have the now tear­ful young man over her knees for a sound hand spank­ing of his now red and glow­ing bot­tom cheeks

 

ëOh look you have lad­dered my stock­ings; I shall have to pun­ish you for that too!í

 

Down came her strong hand, time after time again.

 

ëI am tru­ly sor­ry Aun­tie; he sobbed as his Aunt now gen­tly mas­saged a cream into his stingi­ly sore bot­tom cheeks. She mar­velled at the red­ness, but did not wish to break his skin.

 

ëThere, there, that will do for now.†† Return to your room, and hang the cane up where it belongs Charlesí

 

After eat­ing his din­ner Charles was sent to bed ear­ly, but did not sleep as he found the pain both excru­ci­at­ing and won­der­ful at the same time.

 

The next day he pre­pared break­fast for his Aunt as usu­al.† He knocked gen­tly on her bed­room door, and deft­ly car­ried the break­fast tray in his oth­er hand.

 

ëComeí

 

Charles entered her beau­ti­ful bed­room smelt the heady per­fume, and gazed at her with pure devo­tion in his eyes.† She was wear­ing a black busi­ness suit, white blouse, and tan coloured stock­ings, so he knew at once that she was in a bet­ter mood.

 

ëBy the way Charlesí she said as he was leav­ing the room

ëI phoned that num­ber regard­ing the gar­den­ing job, and am pleased to say you now have full time employ­ment.† Your new employ­er is Mrs Birch, we had a long chat about you, she is quite a like mind­ed lady too, and will stand no non­sense from YOU!††† Your first job is to cut some trees down, and make me a new cane! You may go now.í

 

ëThank you Aun­tie Elsaí

 

It was a sum­mer after­noon in North Lon­don.†† In a pleas­ant well-fur­nished room, a mid­dle-aged man was bent over the end of a sofa; his trousers were neat­ly fold­ed on a chair at the oth­er end of the room, his box­er shorts were pulled down to the top of his thighs and the tails of his shirt pulled up so that his but­tocks were bare. ††He had want­ed, had almost a phys­i­cal hunger for this moment for near­ly two weeks and now it had come.

 

The oth­er per­son in the room, a smart­ly dressed lady, held a straight-han­dled cane in her left hand.†† The cane was longer, dark­er in colour and heav­ier than a school cane.††† The cane came down hard and the man pushed his face into the sofa as if he hoped its cush­ion might absorb the pain he felt when the cane land­ed.†† There was a qui­et pause and then the cane made an arc through the air again.†† It is doubt­ful if, at that moment, the man had the com­po­sure of mind to won­der about the ori­gin of Miss Sven­sonís unusu­al cane.

 

The cane had not been pur­chased from an Inter­net site but from a shop in Waltham­stow rec­om­mend­ed to Miss Sven­son by a Miss Black­stock, an elder­ly lady now liv­ing on the South Coast.†† For many years Miss Black­stock had been the strong and inspir­ing head­mistress of a North Lon­don school; she had felt it her duty to make as much of the son of a labour­er as the son of a gen­er­al prac­ti­tion­er.††† And if either stepped too far out of line, cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment was her rem­e­dy. †††This cane was cer­tain­ly not stan­dard Lon­don local edu­ca­tion author­i­ty issue and she used it only on the most recal­ci­trant boys. †Miss Black­stock was feared and loved in equal measure.

 

Tom­my Jones owned the shop in Waltham­stow sell­ing mod­est three-piece suites, beds and import­ed cane fur­ni­ture. ††Edith Black­stock was Tom­myís child­hood sweet­heart and mar­riage had not dulled his fond­ness for her.††† The cane fur­ni­ture pro­vid­ed a clue that in the ear­ly 1950ís Sergeant Tom­my Jones had been sta­tioned at Ipoh in Per­ak dur­ing the Malayan Emer­gency.†† A use­ful by-prod­uct of this ser­vice to Queen and coun­try had been his cane fur­ni­ture import busi­ness that put bread on his fam­i­lyís table. ††Once in a while Edith came to his shop just to chat and drink the thick sweet tea he made with con­densed milk to remind him of the Malay drink ìteh tarikî.†† Tom­my was proud when Edith became a head­mistress.†† One day she came to the shop red-faced with frus­tra­tion with one of her pupils, a boy who could Öbut again and again chose not to.†† Tom­my told her she was too kind, ìyou have to be cru­el to be kindî he said and made the first of the canes for her from a dense jun­gle rattan.

 

Raised red lines marked the mid­dle-aged manís but­tocks.†† The beat­ing was over.†† Miss Sven­son did­nít let him stand up imme­di­ate­ly so that he had time to regain his com­po­sure.† When he did stand up, box­er shorts now pulled up and shirt­tails hang­ing down so that he looked like an actor in a West End farce caught in fla­grante delic­to, he thanked Miss Sven­son and meant it.

 

He had thanked Miss Sven­son again at the door as he left.†† Walk­ing back towards the tube sta­tion to make his way home, he reflect­ed that the very sys­tem that had nur­tured his need had also enabled him to earn the where­with­al to sat­is­fy that same need.†† This irony would not have trou­bled Miss Blackstock.

 

One of the lit­tle perks of the job

The Mon­day morn­ing ìheads of depart­men­tî meet­ing had been a strained affair.

 

As the U.K. divi­sion of a Nor­we­gian com­pa­ny we were seen as the for­ward line for their for­ay into Eng­land ñ but busi­ness had not been good. Falling sales and low staff morale had been fol­lowed by a num­ber of redundancies.

 

It was rumoured that my ex-boss, Jack Pey­ton, had been ìen­cour­agedî to take ear­ly retire­ment. Nobody knew for sure as he sim­ply did­nít come back to work one day. I had been pro­mot­ed to take his place but we all sus­pect­ed that none of our jobs were very secure.

 

As the meet­ing was draw­ing to a close, we were intro­duced to the new head of the divi­sion, Miss Elsa Sven­son. She had been brought in from the com­pa­nyís Nor­we­gian head office to try and turn around the for­tunes of the U.K. operation.

Sto­ries of her amaz­ing suc­cess in re-invig­o­rat­ing fail­ing oper­a­tions were leg­endary. It was rumoured that her meth­ods were ìun­con­ven­tion­alî ñ but that was as much as any­one seemed to know about her. 

After the intro­duc­tion, Miss Sven­son addressed the room ì I will be meet­ing† with all depart­ment heads in the course of the next week ñ please ensure that you are avail­able for these meet­ings. A list of times will be emailed to you by my sec­re­tary, Ane­mar­ja , lat­er todayî

My inter­view was not sched­uled until 2.00 pm Wednes­day, so I put it to the back of my mind until then.

When Wednes­day arrived, I asked my col­league, Jeff, the head of acqui­si­tions, about his impres­sions of the new boss.

He looked dis­tinct­ly uncom­fort­able with the mem­o­ry of his recent meet­ing with her and his answer was non-com­mi­tal ì ErÖ.I think Iíll let you find out for your­self mateî 

As I pressed him for fur­ther info, he just said, with an embar­rased laugh† ìjust make sure you have a book stuffed down the back of your trousers before you go and see herî

I laughed at his joke and said…îYeah right ! bit strict is she?î

Jeff did­nít answer ñ just looked like he want­ed to be some­where else.

After lunch I was very busy and I lost track of the time. I was con­cen­trat­ing on a new prod­uct launch when I sud­den­ly realised that Miss Sven­son was stand­ing behind me look­ing over my shoul­der at the fig­ures I was work­ing on.

I looked up and she smiled and said ìI believe we had a meet­ing at 2 Oíclock Kevin, itís near­ly 2.30 now and I donít like to be kept waitingî

ìOh Iím sor­ry, I got tied up with work, could we pos­si­bly make it anoth­er time?î

ìYes, after work tonight then, my office at six-thir­ty sharp, please donít be lateî

I felt a bit uneasy at what was quite obvi­ous­ly an order and not a request, but I decid­ed that con­fronta­tion was not the best course, espe­cial­ly giv­en the cur­rent job situation.

ìErÖyes of course Miss Sven­son, Iíll be there well on timeî 

Miss Sven­son smiled, nod­ded her head slight­ly and, I could hard­ly believe this but she said ìgood boyî to me. ìGood Boyî !?! I was out­raged, how dare she patro­n­ise me like that !

At 6.15 I was wait­ing uneasi­ly out­side the new bossí office . I real­ly could­nít afford to lose this job what with the wife and kids and all our cur­rent mon­ey trou­bles. So basi­cal­ly I knew that if she told me to jump I would say ìYes maíam, and how high would you like that to be?î

Miss Sven­sonís sec­re­tary, Ane­mar­ja, smiled at me as I sat fid­get­ing in my chair. 

ìMiss Sven­son will be with you soon, she is very keen to talk to youî 

I tried to smile and said in a jokey way ìOne of my col­leagues sug­gest­ed that I put a book down the back of my trousers before see­ing herî 

Ane­mar­ja grinned and said† ìthatís not good advice, sheíll only make you take your trousers off, then she would find the book and youíd be in even more trou­ble would­nít you?î

I blinked at that, but obvi­ous­ly she was just join­ing in the joke. How­ev­er I felt even less at ease† ñ was this woman real­ly that scary?

The inter­com buzzed and after a few sec­onds Ane­mar­ja said ìyou can go in now Kevinî

I opened the door and walked into what had been Jack Pey­tonís office. But it had been changed (when ? He had been using this office right up till the Mon­day before last) 

As I stood in front of Miss Sven­sonís desk I glanced around at the new dÈcorÖ.very Scan­di­na­vian. At least how I would imag­ine a Scan­di­na­vian decor hav­ing nev­er been to any coun­tries in that part of the world. 

Quite a wel­com­ing office actuallyÖ.

As I stood there, won­der­ing if I would be invit­ed to sit down. Miss Sven­son con­tin­ued read­ing the report in front of her. 

With a start,†† I realised that it was the sales fig­ures for the last quar­ter year. Judg­ing by the grim set of her mouth and the shak­ing of her head I came to the con­clu­sion that she was­nít impressed by the fig­ures, not one lit­tle bit.

ìWell Kevin, Iíd like you to explain to me the rea­son for the appalling sales fig­ures for this last quarter?î

I splut­tered a bit and said ìwell the econ­o­my is notÖ..î

She raised her hand for me to be silen­tÖ­so I stopped talking. 

ìThe econ­o­my is awful all over the world Kevin, but many of our offices are per­form­ing extreme­ly well. So what oth­er rea­sons can you give me for the dras­tic fall in sales over the last three months?. Espe­cial­ly giv­en your depart­men­tís excel­lent record before thatî

I did­nít know what to say. So I just sat there mute and feel­ing rather ner­vous of what was com­ing next, I was pret­ty sure that it was going to be the sack.

ìPos­si­bly you, as the head of depart­ment, need some new motivation?î

I decid­ed that I had to defend myself, but even to me it sound­ed like I was whinging.

ìWell, there has been some prob­lems with the new prod­ucts andÖ..î

ìEx­cus­es, excusesÖ..Kevin, letís not start off on the wrong foot hereî 

ìI actu­al­ly think you have the poten­tial to be an excel­lent Sales leader in this com­pa­ny. But I think that per­haps you are lack­ing a firm hand guid­ing you and I am cer­tain that I am just the per­son to pro­vide thatî

She con­tin­ued ìI have insti­gat­ed some excel­lent tech­niques in our oth­er offices, that have improved pro­duc­tiv­i­ty and increased sales by 25% and often even more. I think that you will ben­e­fit great­ly from themÖI sug­gest that we apply these meth­ods to your­self right away, agreed?î

I was­nít sure if Miss Sven­son actu­al­ly want­ed an answer or just my agree­ment, but as I had thought that I was about to be fired ñ I grabbed this life­line with both hands.

ìThat sounds like a great idea bossî 

ìEx­cel­lent, excel­lent ! î ñ she tapped the inter­com ìAne­mar­ja, we have anoth­er can­di­date for our short, sharp ‚shock moti­va­tion­al train­ing pro­gramme, could you bring in the imple­ments please?î

Short, sharp shock !?!, Imple­ments ?!? , I did­nít like the sound of any of that.

Ane­mar­ja, her face beam­ing with delight (at what?)† came into the office car­ry­ing a large black holdall. 

She indi­cat­ed a door on the right hand side of Miss Sven­sonís office and said ìPlease come into the admin­is­tra­tion room Kevinî 

The ìad­min­is­tra­tionî room was basi­cal­ly a very big cup­board in which my pre­vi­ous boss had kept all the sta­tionery etc that he need­ed. He actu­al­ly called it a ìsta­tionery cup­boardî Ö.far more appro­pri­ate name for a place you keep sta­tionery I would have thought !

As I walked in I could see that there was no sign of any sta­tionery. The room had been cleared out the only items now in there were what looked like a vault­ing horse, right in the mid­dle of the room, and a cou­ple of chairs. 

Ane­mar­ja placed the bag near to the wall on the right and pro­ceed­ed to take out a num­ber of items, the first looked like a table ten­nis bat, the sec­ond like a large belt and the third was undoubt­ed­ly a thick school-type cane. She placed these on and across the two chairs which were side by side against the wall.

As I looked, some­what ner­vous­ly, at these items, Ane­mar­ja came over to me and said ìKevin, you must take off all of your clothes and then posi­tion your­self over the spank­ing horse, Miss Sven­son and I will be with you in a few momentsî 

I sus­pect­ed that Ane­mar­ja liked a joke so I nod­ded and said ìyeah right ! , I sup­pose your both going to whack me with the ìImplementsî

She smiled back and said ìThat is cor­rect, now please pre­pare yourselfî

I realised that she was­nít jok­ing and said ìyou canít be seri­ous !î

I had­nít noticed Miss Sven­son enter the room behind us, but she now spoke ìWe are being per­fect­ly seri­ous Kevin. Many stud­ies, and our own expe­ri­ence, have shown that reg­u­lar cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment is one of the most effec­tive ways to moti­vate peo­ple. It helps them to focus on their work and makes them feel valuedî 

ìNo way!î I shout­ed, ìI want no part of thisî 

ìVery well,thatís your choice,† Ane­mar­ja, please arrange for Kev­inís P45 and final wages to be here for tomor­row lunch time ñ he will be leav­ing us at the end of the dayî 

For the first time since I had met Ane­mar­ja she was with­out a smile, in fact, she looked crest­fall­en to hear this. She said ìBut Miss Sven­son, he just needs a lit­tle per­sua­sion, Iím sure I can talk him round to the ideaî

But Miss Sven­son was adamant ìNo, I donít have time for this, we must press on with the changes and any­more obsta­cles will just slow us downî

Ane­mar­ja looked at me a lit­tle sheep­ish­ly and said ìO.K. Kevin, I will take you through to my office and start the dis­missal proceduresî

I could­nít believe my ears, I looked at Miss Sven­son† ìYouíre fir­ing me?î

ìWhy yes of course, Kevin, my meth­ods work and any­one who con­tin­ues to work for me will be sub­ject to these meth­ods, no excep­tions, isnít that right Anemarja?

 

ìYes, I have been work­ing for Miss Sven­son for 5 years and I have been moti­vat­ed at least once a month since I began. It is one of the lit­tle perks of the jobî 

I just stood, mouth gap­ing, not believ­ing my ears. I mim­ic­ked Ane­mar­ja† ìLit­tle perks of the job?!, are you mad !î

Ane­mar­ja looked direct­ly at me, beseechingly.

She said gen­tly† ìLook Kevin , Miss Sven­son does get amaz­ing results with these meth­ods, and you nev­er know, you might actu­al­ly like itÖ.do you know that there are hun­dreds of men and women in the world who pay oth­ers to dis­ci­pline them in the same way that you could be get­ting for free? They see it as one of the great plea­sures of their livesÖ.And Kevin, sure­ly itís bet­ter than get­ting the sack?î

ìI wonít get sacked, Iíll have you both up in front of an indus­tri­al tri­bunal for thisî I splut­tered ñ ìthis would be con­struc­tive dismissalî 

To my utter dis­be­lief, Miss Sven­son laughed out loud.

ìAwÖKevin, and what would you tell them? That your strict boss sacked you because you would­nít let her smack your bottom?ÖI mean, are you real­ly going to stand up in a room full of peo­ple and say that? Who on earth would believe you? You would be laughed out of the room !î

She con­tin­uedÖîI would just tell them that sad­ly your work just was­nít up to scratch and I had to let you goÖbut that I will, of course, give you an excel­lent ref­er­ence for your next jobî 

I said ìbut the jobs mar­ket is ter­ri­ble at the momentÖ.it could be months before I find some­thing and even then I doubt if it would pay as well as this jobÖ.î

Miss Sven­son shrugged her shoul­ders and said kind­ly ìI know, but maybe youíll get lucky KevinÖ.you nev­er knowî

Silence descend­ed on the room, both Miss Sven­son and Ane­mar­ja looked at me with gen­tle kind­ness,† I was pret­ty sure that this was­nít the first time they had been in this posi­tion.† They knew that a man would­nít sub­mit to some­thing so alien to him with­out at least putting up a struggle.

My mind was in over­drive. What if I lose this job, what will the wife say? How will I pay the mort­gage? Sure­ly itís worth play­ing their sil­ly games just to stay in work. And how would I actu­al­ly explain why I came to leave this job when I was being inter­viewed for another?

So against all my bet­ter instincts and judge­ment, I found myself say­ing †ìO.K. I donít seem to have a choice. Iíll give it a tryî

ìEx­cel­lent Kevin, get your­self ready now, and we will be back in a minuteî 

So reluc­tant­ly I stripped every­thing off and draped myself over the spank­ing horse, it was cold leather, and it creaked when­ev­er I moved. 

After about 5 min­utes the door opened and I heard them both come into the room.

ìAne­mar­jaÖy­ou know how I like my boys and girls preparedÖ.î Said Miss Svenson

ìOf course Miss Sven­son, I will get him secured and nice­ly warmed up for youî

Ane­mar­ja said to me† ìgo far enough for­ward on the horse so that you are on tip toes Kev­inî As I obeyed she pro­ceed­ed to tie sev­er­al leather straps attached to the horse around my waist, the tops of my legs and then final­ly around my ankles.

So I was effec­tive­ly forced to stand on tip toes from then on.

I could feel that this was mak­ing my but­tocks stretch and I guessed that this was why it had been done. 

ìKev­inî she said ìI am going to give you 40 slaps with the pad­dleî at which point she stepped for­ward and waved the table ten­nis bat in front of my face, except I could now see that it was actu­al­ly made of leather and that† ìAne­mar­jaî had been burned onto the face of it.

She then took up a posi­tion behind me and rest­ed her left hand on my back. I could only just see her feet and I noticed that she had tak­en her shoes offÖ..

Then the first slap hit my right but­tock and I said ìOwî loudlyÖ..I heard a delight­ed laugh from Ane­mar­ja just before the next slap hit my left buttockÖ..and thatís how it went, right cheek , ìow!î left cheek, ìyowch!î right cheek, ìeek!î† left cheek, ìyikes!î it seemed to go on for­ev­er. And Ane­mar­ja was obvi­ous­ly enjoy­ing every minute of it, as she gig­gled almost through­out the entire beating.

And as it went on I start­ed to feel a love­ly warmth flow­ing through me and grad­u­al­ly I realised that I did­nít actu­al­ly want it to stop.

But even­tu­al­ly it did stop, and after I had lain there qui­et­ly for a few sec­onds, Ane­mar­ja slapped me on the bum with her hand and laughed as she saidÖ.îHow you feel­ing Kevin? Still pre­fer to be sacked?î

And I did­nít even have to think about my answer before it was out ìNo, actu­al­ly it was wonderfulî

Ane­mar­ja laughed again and walked over to the far wall ñ she winked at me and smiled again as she leaned against the wallÖ

Now Miss Sven­son took up a posi­tion behind meÖÖ 

She said ìNow that Ane­mar­ja has warmed you up for me Kevin, we are going to raise the stakes a littleÖ.I am going to admin­is­ter 15 strokes with the strap before we fin­ish off with 6 nice hard strokes with the caneÖ.how does that sound to you eh?î

And I swear that it was out of my mouth with­out me even hav­ing to think about it, I said ìThat would be love­ly MissÖ.î

I heard a grunt of laugh­ter from Ane­mar­ja and I glanced up at her ñ but she was look­ing direct­ly at Miss Sven­son with a look that said ìheís oursÖwe got himî 

But I did­nít say a word, because I sud­den­ly realised that I tru­ly want­ed to be there and I want­ed to know what the strap and the cane would feel like. 

As I was think­ing all this the strap land­ed with a large ìthwackî right across both of my buttocksÖ.

I actu­al­ly gasped for breath and said ìIím not sure about his Missî 

Just as the sec­ond thwack land­edÖÖI felt my eyes start to water and I still felt a bit breathless. 

After 15, my back­side was throb­bingÖor burn­ing, or, I donít know what real­ly. But it was warm and as the warmth increased I start­ed to feel real­ly mel­low and relaxed. 

Miss Sven­son said ìwe are going to give you a lit­tle rest now Kevin, please relax for a whileî 

ìYes mis­sî I murmered.

With that they left the roomÖ.and I just lay there feelingÖ..well bril­liant if I am honest. 

I must have lain there for about 2 min­utes before they came back into the room.

ìKevin, both Amemar­ja and I are very impressed by how youíve tak­en your pun­ish­ment so farÖ.but we both feel that maybe we should end it there though, espe­cial­ly as this is your first timeî

I splut­tered ìOh no Miss, please, you said I would get the cane as well, I can take it, tru­ly I canî I looked plead­ing­ly back and forth between Ane­mar­ja and Miss Svenson.

She said ìIím not sure that youíre ready for the cane Kevin, itís a very pow­er­ful tool and you need to be bro­ken to it grad­u­al­ly, your bot­tom is already look­ing extreme­ly red , it may cut if I cane youî 

ìI donít mind !î I shout­ed, ìI want to prove to you both that I can take itî

Miss Sven­son said with a laugh in her voice ìBut if I cut you Kevin, wonít you take me to an indus­tri­al tri­bunal and say how I tor­tured you?î

ìNev­er Miss, I would nev­er do that, Iíll sign any­thing you like, any disclaimerî

Silence descend­ed upon the room as I was des­per­ate­ly wait­ed for them to make their decisionÖ..

Miss Sven­son seemed to make her mind up in an instantÖ.

She said to Ane­ma­jra† ìI think he needs thisî Ane­mar­ja nod­ded and Miss Sven­son walked over to the chairsÖ.she picked up the caneÖ..she walked back behind meÖ.

The first stroke land­ed, and it stung and it took my breath away, and I wrig­gled and my eyes watered. Every stroke was just won­der­ful and the antic­i­pa­tion, and the fear, of the next stroke was even betterÖ..

And, far too soon it was over and I just lay there pant­i­ng and feel­ing ÖincredibleÖ.

As I lay there both ladies left the room again. 

In a few min­utes Ane­mar­ja came back in and went once again to the holdall, from which she extract­ed a jar of something.

She smiled at me as she walked behind me and then I was stunned as she start­ed to rub some­thing cool and sooth­ing onto my bottomÖ..îyou did­nít cut Kevin, you did very well, but this will soothe the pain for youî 

And as I was approach­ing what must have been some­thing akin to ecsta­cy I mur­mured ìthank you Missî

And pre­dictably, Ane­mar­ja just laughed.

I said to Miss Sven­son as she came in ìWill I get this again same time next month boss?î

ìThat depends on the sales fig­ures Kevinî

ìIf theyíre worse Iíll get a hard­er beating?î

ìOh no, if theyíre worse youíll get no beat­ing at all Kevin. You see the pun­ish­ment is not the beat­ing. The pun­ish­ment is that next time you come here with your month­ly sales fig­ures. If I donít see an improve­ment then you wonít be going over our lit­tle spank­ing horse here. But if there is an increase in sales fig­ures ñ then we will give you a slight­ly hard­er beat­ing next timeÖ.now wonít† that be nice?î

And they had meÖ­com­plete­lyÖI just splut­tered ìYes Miss, I will make sure my fig­ures are so much bet­ter next monthÖ.I promiseî 

They both laughed. Ane­mar­ja unstrapped me from the horse and said ìWe will leave you to get dressed now Kevinî 

As I got dressed I felt euphor­ic, like noth­ing I had ever expe­ri­enced before. I want­ed to be back in this room as soon as possible. 

I left the office and walked past Miss Sven­sonís desk. She was sit­ting behind the desk study­ing some paperwork. 

ìGood­night bossî I said. 

ìNight Kevin, and donít be late tomor­row, I deduct strokes for days late you knowî 

ìI wonít bossî

ìGood boyî she saidÖand for some rea­son, now it did­nít seem in the least bit patronising. 

I walked out and past Ane­mar­jaís deskÖ..she was also work­ing on something. 

I had to ask ìAne­mar­ja, has Miss Sven­son actu­al­ly ever fired any­one who refused to try her moti­va­tion­al techniques?î

Anje­mar­ja looked at me sad­ly and said ìOh yes, in fact your pre­vi­ous boss was seen by her a month before she took over his job.She offered him the same moti­va­tion as your­self but he refused and decid­ed to accept ear­ly retire­ment insteadî 

I was astound­ed ìJack Pey­ton you mean?î

ìYesî she said wist­ful­ly ìhe seemed like such a nice man, and that was very sad„„I mean I nev­er got to spank himÖ and he had such a sweet lit­tle bottomÖ..î

I was gob­s­macked ìEr Ane­mar­ja, he did lose his job !î

To her cred­it, Ane­mar­ja did look a lit­tle shame­faced ìWell, I mean of course thatís ter­ri­ble ñ I did­nít mean itís awful just because I did­nít get to spank himî 

She looked me straight in the eyes and said ì But I cer­tain­ly hope to see you next month Kevin, work hard and Iíll be able to spank you again, and Miss Sven­son says that I might get to cane you next time, now wonít that be lovely?î

ìCanít wait Mis­sî I said.

She laughed again.

I said to her† ìyou real­ly love it donít youÖ.I mean the spanking?î

ìOf course Kevin, itís just like I told you , itís one of the lit­tle perks of the jobî

ìAnd you know what Kevin? There are 290 staff mem­bers in the U.K. divi­sion, so I think that Iím going to need a new pad­dle before long, donít you?î

ìIíll get you one for your birthdayÖ..î

ìAwÖKevin, thatís very sweet of you, but Iím not sure that your wife would approve of you buy­ing a spank­ing pad­dle for the strict lady in your office…do you?î

I just know that my face red­dened up to match my behind at this remark, so I said ìbye then Ane­mar­jaî and depart­ed, swiftly.

And she was laugh­ing loud­ly as I walked away.

 

Miss Sven­son, to the boyís dis­may, asked to see what he was work­ing on.

 

ìItís noth­ing impor­tant, Miss,î sug­gest­ed the boy.

 

But Miss Sven­son insist­ed and looked at the com­put­er screen.† It was a new doc­u­ment with a heading:

 

ìCaned by Miss Svensonî

 

ìWell, well, whatís all this about?î asked Miss Svenson.

 

ìI was going to write a sto­ry about you can­ing me again, Mis­sî, admit­ted the boy.

 

ìI see. And is this the first such story?î

 

ìNot real­ly, Miss, I write it in my diary at home when you pun­ish me.î

 

ìWell, then, I think we shall have to give you some­thing to inspire your writ­ing, donít you?î said Miss Svenson.

 

ìYes, Mis­sî, whis­pered the boy, blushing

 

ìFol­low me to my office.î

 

*†††††††††† *†††††††††† *

 

ìHow many strokes did you give himî, asked Miss Sven­sonís sec­re­tary lat­er that day.

 

ìI gave him a dozen.†† Heíll get anoth­er dozen tomor­row and again the day after.†† I decid­ed it would be more fun to spread his pun­ish­ment over three days.† Iíve also asked him to bring his diary tomor­row.† I would like to see what heís writ­ten about those pun­ish­ments heís had from me.î

 

ìI donít know how you do it.† All your stu­dents seem to end up being caned by you — and prac­ti­cal­ly beg­ging for more.î

 

The sec­re­tary was being a lit­tle disin­gen­u­ous, as her own bot­tom had fre­quent­ly enjoyed the atten­tion of Miss Sven­sonís hand and she always wore her sex­i­est under­gar­ments to work in the hope and expec­ta­tion that Miss Sven­son would find a rea­son to pun­ish her.

 

ìMen are very sim­ple crea­tures.† On my first day with a new stu­dent, I always make sure that he sees Iím wear­ing stock­ings and sus­penders.† After that, heíll do what­ev­er I say.† Give a man a glimpse of your stock­ing top and heíll want to fol­low you to the ends of the earth!† Thatís my philosophy,î laughed Miss Svenson.

 

ìYou will tell me what hap­pens tomorrow,î asked the sec­re­tary, ìabout the diary and everything?î

 

Miss Sven­son caught the glint of excite­ment in her sec­re­taryís eye.† ìI think youíd bet­ter get on with your work, young ladyî said Miss Svenson.

 

ìYes, Miss,î replied the sec­re­tary, imag­in­ing her own diary and all the sweet sins and secrets it contained.

 

*†††††††††† *†††††††††† *

 

V excit­ing at work.† Miss S is going to cane the boy three days in a row.† Boy has a diary too!†† Just like naughty me!† Sheís going to read his.† What if she got to read mine!† That would make me blush.† All those naughty thoughts.† Lots of spank­ing for me then!!

 

*†††††††††† *†††††††††† *

Miss Sven­son crossed her silk-stockinged legs and began to leaf through the† boyís diary.† Her stu­dent stood ner­vous­ly, aroused by the sight of his tutor dan­gling a shoe from her toes, by the shape of her foot, her smooth, ele­gant legs, by the hint of the dark welt of her stock­ing top and by the knowl­edge that anoth­er can­ing was not far off.

 

Miss Sven­son found the entries for the days when she had pun­ished her stu­dent and read out loud the words and phras­es that appealed to her, adding her own com­men­tary and eye­ing the boy provocatively:

 

ìíThe admin­is­tra­tion of superb cor­po­ral pun­ish­men­tí ñ well itís nice to know that my efforts are appreciated.î

 

ìíAn exquis­ite can­ingí ñ my, you are an aficionado.î

 

ìíMiss Sven­sonís warm and wel­com­ing lapí ñ I hope you donít get to enjoy these pun­ish­ments too much, or one day youíll be pay­ing a hun­dred pounds an hour for the pleasure!î

 

The boy blushed furi­ous­ly at this last observation.

 

Miss Sven­son stood up, removed her jack­et, and fetched her favourite, slen­der, cane from the cup­board.† She swished it a few times and then laid it on her desk.† She sat her­self on the desk and pulled the boy towards her by his belt.

 

ìTo­day Iím going to pun­ish you with some­thing of yours and some­thing of mine,î said Miss Sven­son, as she unbuck­led the boyís belt and pulled it through the loops.† ìLow­er your trousers and shorts and kneel up on that chair,î she said as she dou­bled the belt over in her hand.

 

The boy felt the cool air on his bot­tom then Miss Sven­sonís warm hands as she tucked his shirt out of the way and ran her hands over his bot­tom and pat­ted it gen­tly.† Miss Sven­son stood back and, after a pause, brought the belt down across the cen­tre of her stu­den­tís well-pre­sent­ed bot­tom.† The boy gasped with the excite­ment of the begin­ning of anoth­er pun­ish­ment from Miss Svenson.

 

Miss Sven­son belt­ed the boy until his bot­tom was red and warm to her touch.† She then picked up her cane and repo­si­tioned the boy with his hands on the desk, up on tip-toes with his bot­tom as high as pos­si­ble.† She stood back, still and ele­gant, and applied the first stroke with a flour­ish.† She wait­ed until first the stroke sank in ful­ly, then raised the cane and admin­is­tered anoth­er beau­ty.† The begin­ning of a love­ly weal appeared per­fect­ly across the boyís bottom.

 

Miss Sven­son caned the boy until the full dozen strokes were account­ed for.† She not­ed with some sat­is­fac­tion the numer­ous welts across his bot­tom and enjoyed caress­ing and pinch­ing them before telling him to get dressed and return to his work.

 

*†††††††††† *†††††††††† *

 

Boy caned again today.† Sound­ed v excit­ing.† Want­ed to ask if I could come and watch part three tomor­row, but lost my nerve.† Did­nít want to push Miss S too far!!

 

Miss S spanked me twice for day-dream­ing!† Think­ing about that can­ing again.† Poor boy!† I think heís cute, this one.† Wish I could kiss his bot­tom bet­ter.† Oops, dream­ing again.† Over Miss Sís knees again!

 

I do love it when Miss S spanks me.† Over her knee, knick­ers down — ouch.† So excit­ing! †Spanked on the bare ñ double-ouch!!

 

So glad I wore my nice panties and suspenders.

 

Please, please, please, let Miss S find a rea­son to let me join in tomor­row.† Oh, but what if she canes me too?!!

 

Off to bed now!!!!

 

*†††††††††† *†††††††††† *

 

Miss Sven­son stood back and admired the two round, sexy bot­toms on dis­play before her.† Her stu­dent on the left and her sec­re­tary on the right were each bend­ing over a chair, and pre­sent­ing his or her naughty, already well-spanked bot­tom.† Miss Sven­son held in her hand her swishy cane.

 

Miss Sven­son had been spank­ing her stu­dent sound­ly, when she thought she a noise beyond the door.† She bid the boy get up and opened the door in time to catch her naughty sec­re­tary sneak­ing away.† As a pun­ish­ment for spy­ing on the boyís spank­ing, to which the sec­re­tary read­i­ly con­fessed, she had to stand in the cor­ner, fac­ing the wall, with her hands on her head while Miss Sven­son con­clud­ed the boyís spank­ing.† Then, in full view of the boy, the sec­re­tary was tak­en over Miss Sven­sonís lap, her panties drawn down and her love­ly bare bot­tom spanked soundly.

 

Miss Sven­son then decid­ed it was time for the cane.† The boy and the sec­re­tary each had to fetch a chair and ìbend overî in the appro­pri­ate position.

 

ìNow, we come to the final instal­ment of twelve strokes,î said Miss Sven­son.† ìOn­ly, today, we have two sets of twelve, with a naughty female bot­tom to share the experience.î

 

ìPlease, Miss,î said the sec­re­tary, ìIím very sor­ry for spy­ing, I wonít do it again, please not the cane, Miss.î

 

ìYou donít hear the boy com­plain­ing, do you?î, asked Miss Svenson.

 

ìPlease, Miss, may I take the sec­re­taryís can­ing for her?î, sug­gest­ed the boy, rather gal­lant­ly, Miss Sven­son thought.

 

ìVery well,î said Miss Sven­son after a pause, ìyou shall receive eigh­teen strokes and the sec­re­tary only six.î

 

ìBut, please, Miss,î respond­ed the sec­re­tary, regret­ting her ear­li­er cow­ardice, ìI feel as much to blame as he is ñ please may we have an equal punishment?î

 

ìIf you insist,î said Miss Sven­son, ìthen you shall both receive eigh­teen strokes.î

 

ìOh, Miss,î cried the boy and the girl in near unison.

 

ìEnough of this,î con­clud­ed Miss Sven­son, ìletís get on with your caning!î

 

Miss Sven­son gave each six of the best, repeat­ed three times, laid on with her trade­mark style and ele­gance.† The boy took his strokes sto­ical­ly but the sec­re­tary was more ani­mat­ed and vocal with lit­tle gasps, the odd ìouchî and lots of sexy bot­tom wig­gling, which Miss Sven­son only tol­er­at­ed so far.† By the third set, the sec­re­tary was under instruc­tion to ìstay still and be qui­etî.† Miss Sven­son noticed that the boy reached over and squeezed the sec­re­taryís hand and, as this seemed to help her take her can­ing with less fuss, she allowed it to continue.

 

ìA very sat­is­fy­ing morning,î thought Miss Sven­son after she had dis­missed the naughty pair and as she returned her favourite cane to the cup­board.† ìAny excuse from now on, and Iíll have those two bot­toms in front of me side by side.† Each as sexy as the oth­er!† What fun Iíll have.î

 

*†††††††††† *†††††††††† *

 

The best day ever!† V excit­ed this morn­ing choos­ing my knick­ers!† Decid­ed on the full-bot­tomed panties rather than the thong.† Then Miss Sven­son has to take them down if she spanks me.† And they go real­ly well with my new sus­pender belt.

 

Spied on Miss S spank­ing the boy.† Tum­my felt very fun­ny.† Tapped on the door very light­ly, hop­ing to get caught.† Miss S heard it.† Judged it just right.† Almost out of sight when door opened.† Caught in the act!!† Con­fes­sion time!!† Stand­ing in the cor­ner, lis­ten­ing to the spank­ing, v excit­ing too.† Then over Miss Sís knees. She let the boy watch!† So excit­ing ñ I near­ly came!

 

Then caned togeth­er!! †Side by side.† So-o‑o sexy and excit­ing.† Looked at boyís face ñ eyes closed, look of bliss when Miss S canes him.† Heís so yum­my!† But then the cane for me too!† More than I bar­gained for!† The boy was v brave.† Want­ed to take my can­ing too.† I argued too much, got us both in more trou­ble.† Sil­ly me!† Did­nít think I could take it.† The boy held my hand ñ so sweet ñ much bet­ter after that, although the cane is v painful. Just had anoth­er look at my bum ñ wish I could let the boy kiss it better.

 

And so to bed Ö and sweet dreams!!

 

 

 

 

 

Andrew, looked down at the note again. ‘Report to Miss Sven­son’. He
was­n’t wor­ried. he had heard of Miss Sven­son, but what would this be,
anoth­er lec­ture per­haps. He smiled to him­self and thought no more of it.

Two hours lat­er he found him­self walk­ing into an old build­ing, and up
a flight off stairs. It was an old build­ing, almost old fash­ioned, a
lit­tle cold. He had thought about ignor­ing the note (he has better
things to do), but at the last minute decid­ed should go and ‘do the
right thing’. If not, it would just mean more notes, more reports,
more lec­tures. Very tire­some. He was, how­ev­er, run­ning a lit­tle late,
but what did that mat­ter, he did­n’t care.
Final­ly he arrived at the top of the stairs, stopped for a moment,
turned and saw the big door. Well, lets see what this is about the
thought, as he knocked on the door.

He wait­ed, it seemed at least thir­ty sec­onds, then he heard footsteps
slow­ly get­ting loud­er as they came clos­er to the door. It sound­ed like
heels on wood­en floor­boards. The door slow­ly opened.

In front of him, stood a immac­u­late­ly dressed woman, white shirt, dark
skirt, she looked quite formidable

In a strong but calm voice she said ‘Your Late’, she moved slight­ly to one
side, point­ed and sim­ply added ‘in here’

Andrew walked into the office, it was very well pre­sent­ed, a big desk,
books, some plants, he could sense a wom­an’s touch, though it also
seemed busi­ness like. One thing was strange how­ev­er, close to the
mid­dle of the room, stood a lone chair, a high backed chair, a sturdy
chair, on the mid­dle of the chair sat a wood­en hairbrush.

‘Stand Still’ a voice beck­oned behind him, again calm, but a strong
voice. For the first time Andrew felt a lit­tle uneasy, per­haps this
was going to be a stern­er lec­ture than usu­al. He glanced again at the
chair, this was strange, and this did not go unno­ticed by Miss Svenson,
who sim­ply added ‘Well might you look boy’. Andrew did not quite
under­stand, but once she said this, he looked away.

Miss Sven­son, walked around him, as if cir­cling her prey. She did
not said any­thing imme­di­ate­ly, but looked at Andrew direct­ly in the
eyes. He could not main­tain the eye con­tact, already a vic­to­ry for
Miss Svenson.

Final­ly, she spoke:

‘Let me tell you why you are here, and do not speak, I will not be
interrupted’

‘I have been giv­en a list of your mis­de­meanors, I don’t pro­pose to
go through them all, but I assure you, I know all about you. To
com­pound this you have the audac­i­ty to arrive late to this
appoint­ment, that in itself will not be tolerated’

‘I intend to get the bot­tom of your behav­ior and atti­tude young man,
right too the very bot­tom, I guar­an­tee you’. She said this with almost
a sat­is­fied smile.

She con­tin­ued ‘I have a no non­sense approach to pun­ish­ment, and I
intend to deal with you, right now, today’ ‘I hope you did not come
along expect­ing just a rep­ri­mand on your behav­ior, no, today you will
be pun­ished and pun­ished prop­er­ly and severely’

Andrew, could not quite believe what he was hear­ing, did she say
punishment?

Before he could pon­der too long, Miss Sven­son con­tin­ued ‘let me tell
you what is going to hap­pen, I know you have seen the chair and my
hairbrush’.…..she paused, a per­fect­ly timed pause.…..‘well, you
are going to pull down your trousers and under­pants, and I am going to
take you across my knee, and I am going to spank you bare bot­tom, I am
going to spank you with my hair­brush, and make no mis­take, I am going
to spank you very very hard, believe me when I say you will not be
sit­ting com­fort­ably for some­time after I have fin­ished with you’

Andrew felt a cer­tain dis­be­lief in what he was hear­ing, did she say
spank­ing, and even worse, did she say bare bot­tom? He start­ed to
tense, his mouth was becom­ing very dry. No this could not be right,
but the only word he could actu­al­ly muster was ‘bare?’

In a strict but calm strict voice, Miss Sven­son glared ‘quite bare,
oth­er­wise it com­plete­ly defeats the pur­pose’ and added alarm­ing­ly for
Andrew ‘and I haven’t got all day to waste on you, time to get on with
it’

Andrew felt this could not be hap­pen­ing, was this real, it felt
sur­re­al. How­ev­er, the real­i­ty came all too quickly.

She pulled Andrew by the ear over to the chair. ‘Pull down your
trousers and underpants’

Andrew stood rigid, and at the same time, he noticed Miss Svenson
slow­ly rolling up her right sleeve, very pre­cise­ly and slowly
reveal­ing, a strong arm.

Miss Sven­son picked up the hair­brush and slow­ly sat down on the
chair, mak­ing her self com­fort­able. She looked at Andrew ‘I will not
tell you again’ She start­ed to pat her hand with the hair­brush, it
made qui­et a thwack.

Andrew was now mor­ti­fied, but this was a strong and for­mi­da­ble woman
who clear­ly meant what she said, she was in total con­trol of the
sit­u­a­tion, and Andrew sud­den­ly felt com­pelled to do exact­ly as he had
just been told, and, though a lit­tle hes­i­tant­ly slowly
undid his belt and start­ed to low­er his trousers fol­lowed to his
com­plete embar­rass­ment by his under­pants to stand there effec­tive­ly naked
from the waist down in front of Miss Svenson.

Andrew stood and watched, as Miss Sven­son lift­ed her skirt just
slight­ly to reveal her legs, she did not want her per­fect­ly ironed
skirt creased with what was about to hap­pen. The next word were
inevitable, but chill­ing in there mean­ing, in a very harsh tone ‘GET
OVER MY KNEE’. Miss Sven­son would allow no hes­i­ta­tion and a strong
arm pulled Andrew across her knee. A hand pushed Andrew’s head to the
floor, Miss Sven­son posi­tioned the bare bot­tom in front of her to her
sat­is­fac­tion. A hair­brush was the per­fect imple­ment for over the knee
pun­ish­ments and Miss Sven­son intend­ed to use it to its full extent,
this young man did not know what he was in for, noth­ing short of a
full force spank­ing, a thor­ough good hid­ing, a thrash­ing, a tanning,
there were a num­ber of words to describe it, but Miss Sven­son knew
this was going to some­thing that would not be for­got­ten in a hurry.

One hand held Andrew in posi­tion, in the oth­er Miss Sven­son lightly
tapped the help­less bare bot­tom in front of her with the fierce imple­ment of cor­rec­tion. Then, it happened,
the hand was raised and Miss Sven­son bought the hair­brush crashing
down on to Andrew’s bare bot­tom as hard as pos­si­ble, then anoth­er, and †anoth­er, alter­nat­ing from one cheek to anoth­er. The pain was much much
hard­er than Andrew could ever have imag­ined, much hard­er, he tried to
stay sto­ic, but it did not take long before he start­ed to make slight
yelps as the hair­brush land­ed one stroke after anoth­er, incessantly,
he could not believe the strength of Miss Sven­son, who seemed to know
exact­ly how too pun­ish. Andrew eyes start­ed to water, but there was no
let up, Miss Sven­son con­tin­ued to show­er spank after spank and †Andrews bot­tom was turn­ing form pink to red, to bright red, to †crim­son. Miss Sven­son was indeed and expert and indeed severe. This †was the spank­ing of a life­time. Miss Sven­son stopped, but it was only
a pause, ‘I have only just start­ed’ were the words Andrew did not want
to hear, but heard all the same.

It may only have been a few min­utes, 3,4 maybe 5 min­utes of actu­al spanking,
but the spank­ing was hard from the first spank too the last, and was
as painful as any­thing Andrew had ever known. His bot­tom was purple
and very very sore. The pun­ish­ment was real, severe and very painful.

Final­ly, Andrew was allowed to stand and com­pose him­self, but only
after Miss Sven­son had inspect­ed his bot­tom and decid­ed his
pun­ish­ment was ‘sat­is­fac­to­ry’ It was over.

He pulled up his under­pants and trousers and found him­self rub­bing his
bot­tom, he had been thor­ough­ly pun­ished and felt sor­ry for himself.

As he left thor­ough­ly chas­tised Miss Sven­son remind­ed Andrew this was
the min­i­mum he could expect if he ever had too attend again, and under
no cir­cum­stances was he too be late.

It was lat­er that evening, still sore and sor­ry, Andrew put his hand
in his pock­et, found and pulled out the note…‘report to Miss
Svenson’.…..with a wry look he knew it was not a lec­ture you
received when you report­ed too Miss Sven­son, it was not a note he
want­ed to get too often, but some­thing told him he would prob­a­bly be
back again sometime.

That is my sto­ry, I hope you like it, and hope you don’t mind I used
you as the sub­ject matter.

 

 

 

 

In my sec­ond year at a senior all boyís school I was tak­en to see Miss Elsa Sven­son for my first can­ing, by one of the few female teach­ers, in what was oth­er­wise an all male environment.

I was­nít used to females and over a peri­od of sev­er­al weeks after join­ing her French class our rela­tion­ship had dete­ri­o­rat­ed. The final straw was fool­ish­ly using my biro as a rice blow-pipe dur­ing one of her lessons. Secret­ly despite our fre­quent clash­es I found her pres­ence strange­ly intoxicating.

She was a slim attrac­tive woman with shoul­der length auburn hair, in her mid­dle or late twen­ties, who wore per­fume and smart fig­ure hug­ging just below the knee length skirts. The high heeled shoes that she wore made click­ing sounds on the hard floors of the school cor­ri­dors, so that we could hear her progress as we wait­ed in antic­i­pa­tion out­side the class­room for her to arrive and open the class­room door. As she strode con­fi­dent­ly along the cor­ri­dor, leav­ing behind her a trail of fra­grant per­fume, the con­tours of her bot­tom undu­lat­ed mes­mer­iz­ing­ly beneath the tight restrains of her skirt; some­times it was even pos­si­ble to see an out­line of sus­penders and stock­ing tops beneath the tight mate­r­i­al. This was all very dis­turb­ing to our poor lit­tle ado­les­cent minds.

There were a lot of emo­tion­al con­flicts at an all boyís school to resolve dur­ing this time. The threat of cor­po­ral pun­ish­ment, threat­ened our emerg­ing sense of man­hood, and hung like a Sword of Damo­cles over our heads. Use of the cane or more often the slip­per or plim­soll on our upturned bot­toms, as a form of cor­rec­tion for even the most minor of trans­gres­sions was fre­quent. Our only hope was that some­how the female of the species would not be present or ful­ly aware of our vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty to these humil­i­at­ing pun­ish­ments. As a mat­ter of hon­our we tried to remain sto­ical as these pun­ish­ments were admin­is­tered, but it was not always pos­si­ble and our one abid­ing hope was that they would at least take place in private.

Con­se­quent­ly as she marched along the cor­ri­dor in front of me on our route to Miss Sven­sonís office my mind was in tur­moil. My out­ward appear­ance of non­cha­lant indif­fer­ence was dif­fi­cult to main­tain. Inward­ly I knew that I was in seri­ous trou­ble and fac­ing a cri­sis to my per­ceived rep­u­ta­tion that would be dif­fi­cult for me to sur­vive. My heart was pound­ing and my mouth felt dry. I want­ed to run away in the oppo­site direc­tion but knew it would be point­less and my only option was to some­how per­suade Miss Sven­son that this was an iso­lat­ed, one-off, unfor­tu­nate mis­un­der­stand­ing for which I could apol­o­gise. I was weigh­ing-up my chances of con­vinc­ing her suf­fi­cient­ly enough, to avoid the cane. My bot­tom twitched invol­un­tar­i­ly, as I tried to imag­ine what it would feel like.

There were two doors to Miss Sven­sonís study; one door was used as a for­mal entrance and was manned by his sec­re­tary and the oth­er was gen­er­al­ly used as an exit onto the cor­ri­dor that led to the school classrooms.

As we entered the recep­tion area which led to Miss Sven­sonís office Miss Sven­sonís sec­re­tary looked up from her typ­ing and my heart began pound­ing so hard, I thought that I would faint. I had for­got­ten that there would be the added humil­i­a­tion of the school sec­re­tary being a wit­ness to my plight. The sec­re­tary cast me what seemed to be a know­ing glance and a smile, as Miss Lewis explained that I had been dis­rup­tive in her class and that she had brought me to see Miss Sven­son. Point­ing at the lamp illu­mi­nat­ed above the entrance to his office she told Miss Lewis that Miss Sven­son was occu­pied and we would have to wait. I low­ered my head in an attempt to con­ceal my face which was burn­ing red with embarrassment.

As we stood wait­ing in silence, bro­ken only by the clack-clack of the sec­re­taryís type­writer and the clunk of a large school clock on the wall; from with­in Miss Sven­sonís office we could just make out the muf­fled sound of a raised voice. This was fol­lowed by a silent pause and then some very dis­tinct though slight­ly muf­fled sounds, which were repeat­ed sev­er­al times. There was a fur­ther silence then after sev­er­al min­utes what seemed to be the sound of a door open­ing and clos­ing fol­lowed by foot­steps in the cor­ri­dor outside.

Short­ly after this the light that had been illu­mi­nat­ed above the door to Miss Sven­sonís office went out and I could hear the sec­re­tary speak­ing over her inter­com and telling Miss Sven­son that Miss Lewis had brought me to see her. She then nod­ded towards us and told us that we could go in.

Miss Lewis intro­duced me to Miss Sven­son and began to explain, in a very mat­ter of fact way, as though the sen­tenc­ing for my actions should be obvi­ous, the rea­sons why she had brought me to see her. When she had fin­ished Miss Sven­son turned to me and asked me if I had any­thing to say.

My ear­li­er thoughts on explain­ing my actions seemed sud­den­ly futile, my hands were trem­bling and I felt I was going to faint. I want­ed to fall on my knees and plead for clemen­cy but I could­nít with Miss Lewis there.

I could hard­ly speak but I just man­aged to say ìNoî; with­out too much of a tremor in my voice.

Miss Sven­son replied that he had a rem­e­dy for hooli­gans; with that he point­ed to a school desk which was con­ve­nient­ly placed in front of a win­dow in the cor­ner of his office; ìGo over to that desk and bend-over he com­mand­ed; stand on tip toe, bend right over the desk, and push your bot­tom out towards me, if you break your posi­tion, stand-up or oth­er­wise make a fuss before I am fin­ished, I shall take down your trousers and cane you on your bare bot­tom; do I make myself clear she boomedî

ìYes Miss!îI replied; in a trem­bling voice

I looked towards Miss Lewis; hop­ing that she might depart now that my sen­tence had been pro­nounced but she was smil­ing and it became obvi­ous, she had no inten­tion of leav­ing the room

My legs were shak­ing as I bent across the school desk; I held tight­ly onto the far end of the desk and resolved myself to stay­ing in posi­tion and not cry­ing out. There was what seemed to be a long pause and I became inti­mate­ly aware of my raised bottom.

I tried to look behind me to check what was caus­ing this delay, just then Miss Sven­son stood up from her desk and I could glimpse her walk­ing pur­pose­ly towards me hold­ing a thin yel­low cane firm­ly in her hand. With­in an instant I could feel light taps across the seat of my tight­ly stretched trousers, as she adjust­ed her posi­tion in readi­ness for the onslaught.

There was yet anoth­er long pause; ìStay in posi­tion and no fussî, she boomed

There was a loud whoosh and a resound­ing thwack as the delayed shock from the first stroke of the cane swept across my back­side like a mas­sive hor­nets sting. At the same exact moment, in the back­ground, the clack-clack of the type­writer halt­ed abrupt­ly and I realised that the school sec­re­tary was prob­a­bly lis­ten­ing. After a long inter­val of around 15 or 20 sec­onds, the type­writer began to clack-clack again and at almost the same instant the sec­ond stroke land­ed. Again the type­writer paused and I knew for sure that the sec­re­tary must be listening.

The gap between strokes caused me to reflect deeply on each new weal and the actu­al­i­ty of my posi­tion. Bent over a school desk and being thrashed sound­ly by Miss Sven­son on my exposed bot­tom, in front of Miss Lewis and with­in earshot of the school sec­re­tary. All of them with soft shape­ly bot­toms safe­ly ensconced with­in silky smooth panties and smug­ly free from any pos­si­bil­i­ty of such a humil­i­at­ing childís punishment.

I resolved not to cry out and won­dered how many strokes I was going to get. Miss Sven­son seemed to inter­pret my silence as inso­lence and gave me a fur­ther very force­ful, two strokes on top of the cus­tom­ary six. Each stroke from the thin springy cane pen­e­trat­ed eas­i­ly through the thin cov­er­ing of my trousers.

After eight strokes and fol­low­ing a fur­ther long pause she com­mand­ed me to ìstand-up, adjust your­self, now turn round and offer your apol­o­gy to Miss Lewisî

ìYouíre on-report young manî; she continued

She held up an offi­cial look­ing form and told me I had to get it signed at the end of each les­son for the next four weeks. ìBring youíre signed report here to my office every Fri­day morn­ing for the next four week­sî; she said.

ìIf there is any repeat of your ear­li­er hooli­gan­ism, I shall cane you againî;

ìDo I make myself clearî; she said

ìRight dis­missed, and on your way out ask my sec­re­tary to enter your name into my pun­ish­ment bookî

As we walked back into the recep­tion area each of the long wheals that had formed across my bot­tom felt like raised tram lines and I moved stiffly. I tried to grin and look nor­mal as though noth­ing much had hap­pened but my face was flushed and it must have been obvi­ous that I had just been caned.

The sec­re­tary had a perky expres­sion on her face and seemed to be squirm­ing in her seat as if to mim­ic my dis­com­fort. I moved towards her and asked her if she could enter my name into Miss Sven­sonís pun­ish­ment book. Open­ing the book she made an entry than turned it around and asked me to sign. The entry read ìNaughty boy giv­en six of the best by Miss Sven­sonî. My hand was shak­ing as I gripped her pen and signed

I felt mor­ti­fied with shame that both Miss Lewis and the school sec­re­tary knew I had just been caned over Miss Sven­sonís school desk and had a very sore bot­tom; but I did­nít feel like arguing