As the boy ambled casu­al­ly up to the door, he took note of the let­ter­ing on the brass plate:

Head­mistress

Miss Elsa Sven­son M.A. (Hons), Dip. C.P.

 

He knocked and received an imme­di­ate response. ìEnter!î

The blond lady sit­ting behind the desk await­ing him looked rather smart and dis­tin­guished dressed as she was in a black skirt suit and white blouse.

ìI was told to report to you and bring you this noteî, he said, hand­ing her a sealed envelope.

ìAnd what is your name boy?î she asked quietly.

ìThomas, Mis­sî.

ìI was expect­ing you fif­teen min­utes ago Thomas. You are late and I do not approve of tar­di­ness. Now close the door please.î

Slight­ly tak­en aback at her stern tone the boy replied vague­ly ìI guess I must have got side-tracked on the wayî, and shrugged his shoulders.

ìYou are fair­ly new here, arenít you?î she con­tin­ued, ìI do not believe we have met beforeî.

ìNo Miss. By the way Miss, what do those let­ters behind your name on the door stand for?î

ìYou will prob­a­bly find out later,î she replied with a lit­tle smile. ìNow let us see what this note is all aboutî.

The Head­mistress opened the enve­lope and began to read the let­ter it con­tained. As she did so, her expres­sion turned con­sid­er­ably more severe. Thomas, in the mean time, stared vacant­ly through the win­dow and began to whistle.

ëSi­lence please,î she hissed, this time sound­ing very much less friendly.

ìAc­cord­ing to your class teacher it seems you have per­sis­tent­ly been behav­ing in an unruly man­ner dur­ing lessons. Is that so?î

ìWell, maybe I talk to my mates and muck about a bitî he replied carelessly.

ìShe tells me that she has tried to dis­ci­pline you but now believes that I need to inter­vene with suit­able pun­ish­ment to dis­suade you from con­tin­u­ing this way. What do you think?î

ìI sup­pose you are going to wal­lop me. Iíve had the slip­per loads of times before so Iím not too wor­ried about itî, said the boy with a cheeky grin on his face.

ìVery well,î replied Miss Sven­son, ìI had no idea I was deal­ing with such a hard­ened criminal.î

Again a faint smile played about her lips.

ìPer­haps then we should get right on with it.î

She opened her desk draw­er and took out a well worn rub­ber soled gym shoe.

ìUn­buck­le your belt and touch your toes!î she commanded.

The boy, seem­ing to know what was expect­ed of him, did as he was told, dropped his trousers and bent over. The Head­mistress moved around beside the stoop­ing fig­ure and lift­ed his shirt tail up over his back. She not­ed with sat­is­fac­tion the thin cot­ton mate­r­i­al of his under­pants stretched tight over his small but round­ed bot­tom. The smile returned one more.

Grip­ping the slip­per by the heel, she raised her arm over her shoul­der and brought it down sharply on the left side with a sat­is­fy­ing slap. Quick­ly she repeat­ed the blow with equal vigour on the right cheek and paused. The boy had not flinched. After a few sec­onds she repeat­ed the treat­ment in reverse order ñ right then left.

The boy seemed unmoved and remained bent sub­mis­sive­ly, his fin­gers touch­ing the floor in front of him. Some­what sur­prised, the Head­mistress put extra effort into the fol­low­ing two swings and detect­ed a slight twitch from the recip­i­ent ìThatís bet­terî she mur­mured under her breath.

How­ev­er, to her sur­prise, there had been no sig­nif­i­cant reac­tion from the boy to these first six. He start­ed to lift his head.

ìStay downî came the harsh instruc­tion. She then moved in front of the stoop­ing fig­ure so that her knees rest­ed gen­tly against his shoul­der blades. In this posi­tion he looked as if he was bow­ing deeply in respect.

She placed her left hand on the small of his back, hold­ing the shirt tail in place and, reach­ing for­ward slight­ly, deliv­ered a fur­ther six smart strokes on the seat of his pants, alter­nat­ing right and left as before. Because she was hit­ting straight down, the slip­per seemed to have much more of an impact. She left a short pause between each blow to allow the full effect to be felt. The boy still did not move but she thought she heard a muf­fled grunt from him after the fourth sting­ing slap of this sec­ond onslaught.

Some­what sat­is­fied, the Head­mistress stepped back.

ìYou may stand upî she said.

Thomas straight­ened and made imme­di­ate eye con­tact, but began vig­or­ous­ly to rub his but­tocks to ease the undoubt­ed throb­bing pain.

ìWhat do you have to say for your­self now boy?î

Con­tin­u­ing to mas­sage him­self, Thomas looked direct­ly at her. She thought he almost looked as if he was smirking.

ìIt was­nít too bad a whack­ing, but I think it was a bit hard for just mess­ing about in lessons. Iíve had worse. Any­way, can I go now?î He made as if to retrieve his trousers but was swift­ly interrupted.

ìJust a moment, I havenít fin­ished with you yet.î

Miss Sven­sonís eye­brows were raised in aston­ish­ment. Admit­ted­ly the boy had tak­en his pun­ish­ment well, but such effron­tery from a pupil she had nev­er before expe­ri­enced. It was as if he were assess­ing her per­for­mance, judg­ing her. Such an atti­tude need­ed nip­ping firm­ly and quick­ly in the bud.

ìI think we should avoid any misunderstanding,î she con­tin­ued calm­ly. ìThe slip­per­ing I have just admin­is­tered had noth­ing at all to do with your report­ed behav­iour in class,î she said, point­ing at the let­ter lying on her desk. ìI gave you that spank­ing for being late, for show­ing no remorse and for offer­ing no apol­o­gy. We still have to deal with your oth­er mis­deeds which demand that I pun­ish you properly.î

She tapped the slip­per thought­ful­ly against her hand and turned back towards her desk.

ìYou were ask­ing about the let­ters behind my name. The hon­ours Mas­ter of Arts Degree is authen­tic, from Oxford Uni­ver­si­ty some years ago. The oth­er qual­i­fi­ca­tion is a lit­tle joke I have with my pupils. I decid­ed to award myself an hon­orary self-taught ëDiplo­ma in Cor­po­ral Pun­ish­men­tí, which is a par­tic­u­lar pas­sion of mine. You have already gath­ered that I know how to use a slip­per, which I will now return to its home.î

With that she replaced the shoe in the desk draw­er and moved towards a wall cupboard.

ìWhen infants are sent to me for being naughty, I usu­al­ly just put them over my knee and smack them with this,î she ges­tured with the open palm of her hand.

ìBut for old­er chil­dren or more seri­ous mat­ters we have oth­er options.î

She opened the cup­board to reveal an array of sin­is­ter look­ing implements.

ìI sup­pose I could use one of my pad­dles or give you a taste of the strap.î Her fin­gers seemed to brush lov­ing­ly over each of the items as they were mentioned.

ìOc­ca­sion­al­ly I even use the birchî.

Then her hand shift­ed towards a row of long thin sticks arranged in a rack, the slen­der­est on the left and the most robust on the extreme right.

ìBut my real favourite is.….î

The boy had been watch­ing and lis­ten­ing, dumb­struck and increas­ing­ly alarmed. Now he got his voice back.

ìThe c..cane, Miss!î he stam­mered. ìI did­nít know you used the cane at this school.î

ìOh yes, when it is jus­ti­fied. As you see I have quite a selec­tion. I pride myself on being some­thing of a spe­cial­ist. They say the exper­tise is in a flick of the wrist at just the right moment. But I donít real­ly know.î

Her hand moved along the row, paus­ing in the mid­dle and then mov­ing again two posi­tions to the right. Final­ly she seemed sat­is­fied and removed one of the heav­ier ones from the rack giv­ing it an explorato­ry flour­ish in the air. It made an omi­nous swish­ing sound and seemed remark­ably flex­i­ble con­sid­er­ing its rel­a­tive thickness.

ìI am now going to give you a prop­er beat­ing as I told you, so letís get you ready.î

Thomas was now extreme­ly agitated.

ìNo Miss, please. Itís not fair. I did­nít know.î

ìI think I will have you bent over there,î she con­tin­ued, ignor­ing his protests and indi­cat­ing an upright chair. ìI would advise you to get a good grip on the seat as I donít expect you to move until I have fin­ished. Oh! And just to make it a bit more inter­est­ing, letís have those pants off. I pre­fer to see the results of my work. Neat par­al­lel lines are what I like.î† (She had a men­tal pic­ture of a pair of rail­way tracks side by side)

The boy stood still in defi­ant dis­be­lief, his trousers round his ankles.

ìRe­al­ly no, Miss. You canít cane me on my bare bum.….î

As the word slipped out he knew he had made a bad mis­take. He turned his eyes to the floor and bit his low­er lip.

ìThat does it Thomas,î said the grim faced Miss Sven­son, now advanc­ing on him with the fear­some look­ing cane.

ìAs you are new, I was going to be lenient and give you just four strokes. But as I now know you also have a sew­er for a mouth, you will get the full six of the best.î (In her mindís eye she now saw a five bar gate per­haps with a diag­o­nal strut). ìAnd remem­ber, no mov­ing until I say you may, and no more objec­tions or you will get even more. And I promise you, you wonít want any more than six from this cane.î By the way she empha­sized her words, Miss Sven­son made it very clear that ëthisí cane was par­tic­u­lar­ly to be feared. And she was not smil­ing at all.

The boy stood trans­fixed beside the high backed chair and the Head­mistress saw his eyes begin­ning to moisten.

ìThomas, you are now being treat­ed like a big boy.î Her tone had per­haps soft­ened a little.

ìNow, pants down and over the chair please. Letís not behave like a baby!î

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 28th, 2011 at 9:20 am and is filed under Miss Svenson's Spanking Story Competition.. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.