Miss Elsa Svenson

Spanking & Caning in London with Miss Elsa Svenson

 
 

Story Competition — sixth entry by James O…

Car­o­line glanced over towards my desk and, on being sure Miss†Svenson was not look­ing, slipped me a note that I hur­ried­ly put in my pock­et. It had been two days since we had skipped Sci­ence with old Mrs Cartwright. She nev­er marked the role any­way. My mind went back to the 45†minutes
with Car­o­line. She was only a year old­er than me but she act­ed like she was five years old­er. I sus­pect a lot of her knowl­edge came from the books her broth­er Derek had under his bed but at the end of the day how she knew was not as impor­tant as the fact that she did.

45 min­utes is a long time when you are doing some­thing that you know will get you into seri­ous trou­ble if you are caught. We were already on a warn­ing after the for­mal ball evening where we did not get back till after three in the morn­ing. That had been close. Miss Sven­son seemed to know that some­thing had gone on but could not prove it, so it was dire warn­ings all round, a threat to call our par­ents and even the promise of a senior cane mak­ing it’s acquain­tance with our bottoms.

Miss Sven­son was the new Head and a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent ket­tle of fish to Mr Wil­son. Mr Wil­son had been there for over 23 years, he seemed only inter­est­ed in golf and left the dis­ci­pline side of things to his deputy who seemed to admin­is­ter deten­tions rather than can­ings. We had liked it like that. But Miss Sven­son was dif­fer­ent so I do not know what made me say ‘yes’ to Car­o­line and sneak out with her dur­ing school time. Even two days lat­er \I still shiv­ered with†either the excite­ment of the 45 min­utes or the fear of get­ting caught.

I fin­gered the note in my pock­et and glanced towards Car­o­line. There was that know­ing smile around the edge of her lips and her eyes twin­kled. ††She had said she would write and tell me what she want­ed next time, and she would go into detail!. The note almost felt hot in my pock­et and I could not wait to go to the loo to have a quick read.

But then came the words: James, please come to the front of the class this moment†and give me what­ev­er it was that Car­o­line just passed to you. I went†cold, the room went qui­et and even Car­o­line turned white. You could have heard a pin drop. James, I am wait­ing. Slow­ly I stood up, my mind rac­ing, did \I have anoth­er note in my pock­et, some­thing \I could exchange for the real thing. As I walked for­ward I knew I was in†serious trou­ble. I had no idea what the note said but \I knew it was not going to be good.

Miss Sven­son held her hand out.’ Hur­ry up boy’ she said, ‘I have not got all day. Slow­ly I hand­ed the note over. Miss Sven­son glanced at the note, her cheeks seemed to blush a lit­tle, and she took a sharp intake of breath.
Her next few†words seemed to echo around the room, again and again. ‘I will see you†and Car­o­line in my office after study time’. This time you have gone too far.

It was only 2pm, still an hour and 15 min­utes before the final bell and it seemed that every sin­gle per­son in the 5th form had heard the news. Why is that bad news trav­els fast and good news just mean­ders?. I tried to see Car­o­line at the lunch break but she was sur­round­ed by what seemed to me all the girls in the 5th†form. Just what had she writ­ten in that damn†note?. If Miss Sven­son’s† face was a† book I think I read the last three chap­ters of a nov­el where it had all gone wrong for the hero. She looked shocked sand her jaw had devel­oped that set look…the same kind of look she showed when the sixth for­m­ers were caught at the strip club just off the High street. No one knows to this day how it was that Miss Sven­son knew they were there but† it was in local folk­lore how she had sim­ply walked into the club and dragged the two out by their ears!

Why did Car­o­line not switch her mobile on?. Even a text would be a com­fort. All I could hear now were my ‘so called’ friends call­ing.… one thank you Maam,.…. two thank you Maam. All the†way to 12 and then falling about with laughter.Yeah…hilarious.!
My par­ents had decid­ed on a school that still prac­tised CP because they were ‘old school’. Always going on about how stan­dards had dropped and what the young gen­er­a­tion need­ed a was a dose of real­i­ty spelt C A N E.

Seemed ok at the time. I had nev­er even been spanked as a child. Not that I was a goody two shoes, but rather, that I had not been caught. All cold com­fort now as the real­i­sa­tion began to sink in.† Just what had she writ­ten on that note?. She had a fer­tile imag­i­na­tion, hands that knew exact­ly where to reach and lips that were soft like a ripe peach. But what had that note said? I shud­dered as my imag­i­na­tion ran down dark and dan­ger­ous roads.

Was there any­way I could get my hands on that note? Was that pos­si­ble?. Miss Sven­son had put the note in her hand­bag and that was in the staff room. The staffroom that was usu­al­ly ful­ly of teach­ers. Sud­den­ly my mind raced. The oper­a­tive word was ‘usu­al­ly’. There was a time that room was emp­ty but did I have the nerve to make that happen?

There was only one occa­sion when all the teach­ers cleared the room. It had hap­pened when O’Brien had been dared to break the fire alarm. He had been promised†a pack­et of cig­a­rettes. He was only 13 and there was no way he could fool the shop­keep­er he was 18. He was hard pressed to be seen as 13! So the fire alarm was worth the risk.†He does­n’t think so now of course. He was caught just a few hours lat­er behind the bike shed with half the cig­a­rettes gone and him look­ing very green in the face. It was only a mat­ter of a few min­utes and his oth­er cheeks were red!. No one had ever received 12 from the Head. And with the senior drag­on cane. O’Brien was heard yelling all the way down to the riv­er where tourists thought they were wit­ness­ing a murder.

I had to get to that note and make it dis­ap­pear. The Alarm was the only way. I would wor­ry after­wards about what Miss Sven­son would think. It was too much to hope that she would believe she had mis­placed the note if I could get it…†it but if she did not have the proof then there was a good chance noth­ing could be done. If any­one was in trou­ble it should be Car­o­line. I knew which alarm to break. The one just out­side the gym was out of sight, yet close enough to the back win­dow of the teach­ers room. The more I thought about it, the more I was sure I could pull it off. The trou­ble was, I was ready to believe any­thing. I had seen her face and hav­ing some idea of the things Car­line might have writ­ten I was absolute­ly sure that† I would not be sit­ting for a month if I did not get that note.

But I had to sur­vive the last les­son and in the 15 min­utes before we were due to meet Miss Sven­son† had to make it all hap­pen. It was going to be tight. My mind thought up and dis­missed a dozen options.†The†biology teacher was dron­ing on about††how far med­ical sci­ence had come and yet again was say­ing how well his replace­ment hip was work­ing. Bet­ter than the orig­i­nal and no one knew.

My ears pricked up. ‘Replace­ment’, and ‘no one knew’. It was a ‘Eure­ka’ moment and all of a sud­den I knew how I was going to get away with it. There was no need to steal the note at all. †This sto­ry was going to have a hap­py ending.†I smiled to myself. This was not going to be easy but it could work.

By the time I man­aged to get my heart rate down to some­thing resem­bling nor­mal­i­ty I had† moved from a’ Eure­ka moment’ to a plan. I would sim­ply get the fire alarm to go, wait till the staff room emp­tied, replace the orig­i­nal note with a new one and I’d be† free as a bird!. It was a mas­ter­ful plan. First things first. I now had but a few min­utes to write a replace­ment note. I had seen enough of Car­o­line’s writ­ing to copy her style. But what to say?

My dear James ( a good start I thought…her note would have said.…I can see your P…throbbing…well you get the idea) I write this note with more than a tinge of sad­ness. You are of course quite right. Our school­work must come first and much as I love you I know that study is so impor­tant. It is not every day that we have teach­ers of the cal­i­bre of Miss Sven­son and we must take advan­tage of it. So although my heart beats strong­ly for you I will put these feel­ings to the side. All my love Car­o­line xxx.

I read it back aloud. It was bor­der­ing on ‘over the top’ but it would fool Miss Sven­son. She loved stu­dents who stud­ied hard. It was her Scan­di­na­vian mind set. Rumour had
it she received her degree in geog­ra­phy before she turned 20 (on a side note…she does­n’t look 50)…must be the lack of sun?.

The moment had arrived. it was now a mat­ter of tim­ing. And it was going to be’ fine’ tim­ing at that. It was three min­utes past 3 and stu­dents were pour­ing out the door to go home and laugh­ter filled the hall­ways. Old Mr Williams, the care­tak­er, was on school cross­ing patrol. He loved that…dirty old bug­ger. Still , you take your thrills where you can at that age. The prin­ci­pal was in the music room get­ting ready for orches­tra prac­tice. She had been a flute play­er until the† Botox in her lips had gone a lit­tle wrong. Now they resem­bled half oranges. Almost a good look, but not quite.

It was the moment of truth.….I hit the alarm, and bells began to ring, stu­dents walked briskly to the near­est exit. They had prac­tised it enough times. The teach­ers did the same thing…out they came.….and thru the win­dow \I could see that they were all leav­ing, except† Miss Weaver. Bloody Miss Weaver, was it all going to come unstuck because of her? My heart began to race, the up she got and out she went. I had ‘but†moments’ in which to sneak into the room and work out which was Miss Sven­son’s bag. My hands were shak­ing but there it was…the offend­ing note. Just as \I was about to exchange the note \I heard a sound behind me. My heart stopped. All I could hear was the alarm ring­ing and it seemed as if time had skid­ded to a halt. Slow­ly \I turned around. But to my relief all I saw was a cur­tain flut­ter­ing in the open win­dow \I had used. Thank­ing stars \I did not know exist­ed I made the swap keep­ing my eyes on the flut­ter­ing cur­tain that had† got me going!…then I retreat­ed. I had done it!.…but some­thing did not feel quite right..

Job done!.Success. I had beat­en Miss Sven­son. There was no way I could now be caught and† pun­ished. The alarm was reset. The care­tak­er mut­ter­ing about yet anoth­er false alarm. The teach­ers mean­dered back into the staff room and \I found myself in the qui­et of the toi­lets. There was just one ques­tion to be answered. Just what had Car­o­line writ­ten that had made Miss Sven­son turn such a shade of green?.….I opened the note and to my hor­ror began to read† ‘My Dear James’,…I now†knew what I had not checked…oh shit.

 

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