The New Head Girl, The Beginning a tale by Karla
Kirsty Woods alighted from the train at Braxby station with her friends. They had all boarded at various stations and had spent the journey catching up on gossip about the summer break. Kirsty was a tall slim seventeen-year-old with long legs, narrow waist and smallish pert breasts, which she joked, was useful for Netball and squash, not weighing her down. Now they were seniors, in their last year and feeling very mature. They were going to be of the privileged class, allowed to wear proper clothes, not uniforms. They would be assigned studies and allowed toasters and kettles for breaks. Some would be prefects and be allowed to discipline the younger girls for minor mistakes, report them to the heads of house for major infractions. Kirsty was a bright girl, very bright, expected to pass all her “A” Levels with high grades and go on to Oxford or Cambridge. She had sailed through school without any disciplinary problems except for the first term when as an eleven year old she had been given an essay by a Prefect for breaking a rule she didn’t even know about. After her punishment Kirsty, typically, read the entire House and School rules and was careful never to break any again. Because school rules demanded sport be played as well as academic prowess attained Kirsty took up Netball and squash and much to her surprise became more than a little proficient. The previously bookish dumpy girl blossomed into the lithe athlete she now was.
Happily the girls piled their luggage into the school bus and continued to gossip as they waited for the stragglers. Kirsty and her best friend Sophie twice got off the bus to help young girls obviously new to all of this and totally lost. Mrs. Ward, deputy head and Housemother to Kirsty was a calm island in this sea of chaos and nodded her thanks to the two girls. Eventually all were taken to the school, assigned their dorms and helped by porters to carry chests and trunks to storage. Kirsty and Sophie went to the seniors’ house and elected to share a room. Tired as they were it wasn’t long after lights out that they stopped their whispering and drifted to sleep.
Next morning Kirsty felt strangely excited as she chose her black two piece business suit with its’ tight slacks. The black boots, white blouse and black tie with school emblem complimented the suit perfectly. Kirsty also had a skirt for each of her suits, the black, the grey and the blue pinstripe, all of which were the options for the school. How adult Kirsty felt in her business suit! How sophisticated! Arm in arm the two friends went down to breakfast and assembly. As with many very bright people Kirsty had no idea that she was popular with both the girls of the school and the teaching staff and was truly amazed when Mrs. Hall, the headmistress called out Kirsty’s name to be on the Prefects Team.
In minutes Kirsty found herself looking round the Directors’ room of the governors. The eight girls were trying to look nonchalant as if they were used to such grand surroundings; the head and her deputy were coolly appraising the girls they had chosen. Eventually Mrs. Hall called the meeting to order. Having congratulated the girls the headmistress passed round copies of the school rules and the addendum that covered the behaviour of prefects. She summarized each point so the girls would fully realise the gravity of their duties.
“As seniors,” she said, “You will not be subjected to corporal punishment, not that many of you were anyway.” Even the austere head smiled thinly at some of the blushes. “However as prefects you are expected to set an example so if you cannot you will have your prefecture removed and will suffer being monitored and escorted for such time as I deem necessary.” Mrs. Hall fixed each girl with a firm but friendly smile, letting them all see the iron inside the velvet glove. “In addition you may be called upon to supervise other seniors under such restrictions. You may be required to escort younger girls to the Housemother or me for corporal punishment, and if the girl is timid remain outside to offer comfort and support after the said girl has paid her penalty. As prefects you can award essays of between one and five thousand words, but please try to make the essays appropriate and relevant. Work with your Housemother and know a girl’s weaknesses, a history essay would not be appropriate for an A grade history student. It will be your job to keep the houses running smoothly and efficiently, be the first to correct laziness, tardiness, slovenly dress and inappropriate behaviour. If juniors persist you will report to your Housemother and she will deal with it according to the guidelines and standards of this school.”
Mrs. Hall smiled round kindly and continued, “as with all privilege comes duty. It can be a difficult role but also very rewarding and the skills you learn here will be invaluable in later life. Now girls to your first duty, you must elect the head girl from your number.” She passed round the slips of paper with the eight names on explaining that the girls should write one and two in their first and second choices. All the girls studiously ignored each other and covered their slips as they wrote their wishes. Mrs. Ward acted as teller and collated the results and passed them to Mrs. Hall, who glanced down and smiled her satisfaction. “It’s as close as I have ever known it, it’s been decided by the second choice votes, but the Head girl this year is … Kirsty Woods”. Kirsty couldn’t believe her ears, she felt faint then terrified and proud. Vaguely she heard Mrs. Hall bid the girls return to their classes and Kirsty to return at 4:30 pm for tea with her and the deputy head.
That first day as the seniors were taken round the usual route of classes, given study timetables and curriculae for the A levels Kirsty couldn’t believe what had happened. The constant stream of girls that seemed sincere in their congratulations was as pleasing as it was surprising.
At 4:30 Kirsty was appraised of the full scope of her duties. Attending civic functions, old girls meetings, attending the once weekly teachers meeting, putting forth the feelings of the students, representing their interests, and advising the teachers! Also if a prefect wanted to report a girl for corporal punishment she, the head girl would have to endorse the report with her recommendation. As the enormity of her duties sank in Kirsty felt a doubt creeping into her mind, a subtle but invidious worm of doubt. When Mrs. Hall asked for Kirsty’s first reaction and any doubts as to her duties Kirsty tried to speak, cleared her throat huskily and then forced herself to put voice to her doubts.
“I really am honoured and touched at the girls’ confidence and yours in me Ma’am, but there is one thing I think you should know. I am to report girls, or recommend other girls for corporal punishment … do you know I have never been physically punished? Not here and not at home, and it worries me that I am going to have to recommend girls for something I have never experienced, I have no idea how painful or humiliating it might be, except by word of mouth.”
Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Ward exchanged glances and smiles. The deputy reached out and took Kirsty’s hand and said “Yes we know, and we have discussed it and the fact you have doubts has made us even more certain the right choice has been made. We have every confidence in your innate sense of justice and what is right. If we trust you so you should trust yourself girl.” Kirsty felt proud when she heard this but still felt small doubts invading her mind. The head smiled and asked Kirsty if she was ever curious about corporal punishment and when Kirsty nodded asked if Kirsty had never thought about being naughty just to have the experience. Kirsty answered truthfully that she had but dismissed it as being dishonest and in a way not worthy of the school. She was surprised when the Head looked surprised, calculating then nodded as if reaching a decision.
“Did you know I was once a pupil at this school Miss. Woods? And that I was head girl?”
“Yes, ma’am I did,” Kirsty answered truthfully, mystified as to where this was going, after all it was almost part of the folklore of the school.
“Well,” Mrs. Hall continued, “what you probably didn’t know is that I was not as good as you, I was always certain I wanted to be a prefect if not head girl here, but I was spanked that first year by my house mistress. A spanking I thoroughly deserved by the way as did the other girl involved.” Mrs. Hall smiled as she reminisced “and now Miss Woods I am going to take you into my confidence, a confidence I KNOW I can trust in because you are who you are.”
Kirsty merely nodded and whispered, “Of course ma’am” as Mrs. Hall continued without pause.
“I was caned in my fourth year, for what is not important. What is important is that I can tell you that you are better than I was, we trust you to not abuse power, and trust you to be honest and open with us. Now eat your food girl and drink up, let’s discuss the juniors chances at the county Netball championships, what do you think Miss. Woods?”
As the conversation covered all the goals, aims and aspirations of the school Kirsty surprised herself at her in depth knowledge of the pupils, their strengths and weaknesses, gradually her confidence grew and she began to answer more forthrightly and sometimes found herself disagreeing with her head! All the time though Kirsty felt like she had missed an essential part of the school’s methodology, a part that would not have mattered were it not for her present position of trust. At last the meal was over and Kirsty watched the Head and her Deputy stack the pots neatly on a tray ready for the cooks. “Feeling better now Miss. Woods?” asked the headmistress, “any last questions?”
“Yes ma’am,” said Kirsty softly but firmly. “Is it true that the girls’ parents still sign a document stating that they are happy for their daughters to receive corporal punishment as the Housemothers and you see fit ma’am?”
Mrs. Ward stepped into the conversation, “Yes Kirsty it is true. The parents give written permission, in the first two years, for me, or the other housemothers, to spank girls on their bare bottoms if we think it necessary. From the third year, or the age of thirteen the housemothers can strap or paddle a girl over her regulation knickers, the headmistress may, as well as strap and paddle, cane the girls. After the fifth year the girls are trusted and corporal punishment ceases.”
“That’s what I thought,” Kirsty affirmed. “I know this sounds ridiculous but I really feel that I’d be doing the parents a disservice if I was responsible for their daughter’s punishment and humiliation if I have not experienced it. I feel silly asking but I am too old for a spanking but do you think I should be paddled or caned? Would it help me understand? Or do you think it would be best for me to stand down” Kirsty finished in a rush and sat there looking down at her lap and blushing.
The Head and her deputy looked at each other, both smiling. Mrs. Ward said triumphantly, “I told you she would be brave enough to question herself, told you she would instinctively spot her one flaw, even though the flaw is imaginary.” Kirsty’s mouth fell open as she looked from one smiling woman to the other. She soon focussed as Mrs. Hall spoke.
“Well done girl. You are very wise and staunch. Now another confidence that you must never reveal to another soul.” Kirsty’s eyes went wide as Mrs. Hall went on, “The caning I got was instigated by me. Unlike you I had a burning ambition to be head girl and I plotted for it. I thought I should know what a caning felt like to be fair to the other girls. I didn’t want to leave it for the fifth year because it might blight my chances of prefect. So the beginning of my fourth year I was foolish enough to arrange a caning.” Kirsty couldn’t believe this austere prim lady could have behaved like that, but she knew her to be honest. She caught up with what Mrs. Hall was saying.
“I believe you have it in you to be a wonderful head girl without physical chastisement, but I believe that you will always have that doubt clouding your judgement. It will only adversely affect the marginal cases, but the odd one or two it might. I think if we rid you of this doubt you will be the best head girl in recent history and so yes I agree that your plan is worth trying. Do you wish me to propose a course of action Miss Woods?”
Kirsty could only dumbly nod till she caught herself and mumbled “Yes please, of course ma’am.”
“Very well,” she began, “ it is Tuesday today, on Friday you are invited to my house with Mrs. Ward in attendance. You say you are too old for a spanking, I disagree, I think the feeling of humiliation is unique and you should try it, but you would have to trust Mrs. Ward implicitly, for it is she that would spank you briefly before our meal. I will ask you if you still wish to carry out this plan at each stage of course.”
Kirsty looked at Mrs. Ward, the woman whom after her mother had been the greatest influence on her life. Tears sprang into Mrs. Ward’s eyes as Kirsty spoke from her heart, “I’ve always trusted Mrs. Ward’s judgement about the best course of action for my well being and development. I am well aware of how much I owe her.”
“Good girl, well said,” Mrs. Hall enthused, “once again Mrs. Ward has proved how valuable she is, how good a judge of the girls’ character. Now Miss Woods, after you have been spanked, we shall have a cup of tea and if you wish to continue you will receive a typical housemother paddling or strapping from Mrs. Ward. Knowing Mrs. Ward’s efficiency I think the meal would be appropriate at that point because you will need a rest.” Kirsty nodded and gulped wondering now if she was doing the right thing, but her inner mind told her it was necessary to ensure fair play for the girls in her charge.
“After we have eaten and talked and you have recovered I shall cane you as I am the only person so authorised. So, Miss Woods, tell me now what do you think of the plan?”
Kirsty couldn’t keep a bark of laughter in her throat, a laugh born of nerves. “I am frightened now ma’am but I really do believe the only choice is this plan or to stand down. The girls voted for me so I want to prove to them that their judgement was good so it really seems this unpleasantness is necessary. But ma’am, may I ask a favour, never let the girls know?”
Kirsty saw the girl inside Mrs. Hall as the elderly somewhat severe lady smiled and nodded. “Of course girl that goes without saying, just as I am now sure my old headmistress saw through my ploy, caned me anyway and never mentioned it to another person, it will be our secret.” As she was dismissed Mrs. Ward whispered “wear a skirt on Friday dear, not pants.” Kirsty stopped dead, thought about it and nodded as she understood that girls who were disciplined all wore uniform skirts.
For the next four days Kirsty went to her scheduled lessons and performed her duties as head girl. Twice she escorted juniors to housemothers, once to her own Mrs. Ward. She waited outside listening to the muted lecture, the faint sounds of a spanking that seemed to last forever, then an ominous silence for two minutes. One girl, a first year came running out in tears and fell into Kirsty’s welcoming arms and sobbed her little heart out. Kirsty questioned her, found out what was causing the problem, offered guidance, how she should make amends and left the girl smiling tearfully at the door of her dorm. Little did she know but Kirsty first became a heroine and role model that day. The second girl was a tough second year who accepted her fate with a calm manner, knowing she had messed up (screwed up as she said) and was philosophical. When she emerged with tears bravely held back she merely nodded and walked with whatever pride she could muster back to her dorm unaccompanied. Kirsty smiled and shook her head as the young girl started to rub her bottom furiously just before she was out of sight round a corner. Then she sobered as she thought of her own appointment. Kirsty managed to keep her feelings well under control, only letting them out in the safety of her bed. Her greatest worry was that she would make a fool of herself, lose her dignity. Strangely she found herself already thinking more of the young girls she was supposed to care for, almost as if she was empathizing.
At 3:50 Kirsty rushed to her shared room, showered, changed into what she considered her smartest suit, the blue pinstripe, white blouse and blue bow tie almost hidden under the collar. After forcing herself to chat to Sophie she made herself walk through the fence to the old sanatorium that nestled in the woods, now used as the headmistress’s house. With heart in mouth Kirsty rang the bell and was relieved when Mrs. Ward, not a domestic, opened the door. Seeing Kirsty’s look of relief Mrs. Ward smiled sympathetically. “We promised to keep it secret my dear,” she assured Kirsty. “The girls at school believe it is the usual Friday tea for we three and all the staff have left. No one will come through the fence uninvited so relax, my dear.”
Kirsty thought that was easier said than done but managed to smile gratefully because of the sentiment. She followed Mrs. Ward down the hallway into the old study, glanced round and was grateful to see that the window that only overlooked bare woods anyway was well covered by a thick curtain. She knew the house was double-glazed and so soundproof. Still nervous this was at least a small relief. On a sideboard was arranged a hot plate and serving dishes. A tantalising smell came from the sideboard, which was wasted on the butterflies in Kirsty’s stomach. She took the seat offered, an old leather armchair, and sat primly, nervously on the edge. Kirsty started when the door opened and Mrs. Hall entered prosaically carrying a tray with three cups and saucers, a milk jug, a sugar bowl and a china teapot covered by a woolen warmer. “Hello Miss Woods,” she smiled, “I’m so glad you came. Now are we to discuss school business or are we going to introduce you to the only piece of school tradition you missed?”
Though she appreciated the attempt to lighten the situation Kirsty could only reply seriously, holding on to her resolve, keeping a reign on her imagination. “Hello ma’am,” she acknowledged, “I still believe that I need to know first hand exactly what the girls’ suffer so if you will help I’d be grateful, but,” Kirsty continued with a rush. “I haven’t got any school nickers, I didn’t want to start gossip in town buying any, or borrowing form younger girls, so I wore my sports underwear.”
The Head smiled but Mrs. Ward laughed softly. “Kirsty, Kirsty my dear, you are here at your request with our blessing, we shall not worry about such details.” Kirsty blushed, then paid attention as Mrs. Ward continued. “As you know I shall be responsible for your spankings but not your caning. You have said you are sure but let me say that a standard school spanking lasts three to four minutes and is pretty firm. Most juniors are crying by two minutes. You are only here to experience the humiliation of a childish spanking so I propose a measured two minutes of spanking but as firmly as the girls receive. The girls are lectured then tugged over my lap, I lift their skirts and lower their panties. This means the girls have no control and are made to feel like children, this is deliberate because usually spankings are for childish behaviour. I have spanked adults before so do not worry about your size or weight. I understand that with your maturity your body will be different, but again trust me to ignore that. Now my girl do you want to proceed?”
Kirsty’s eyes widened at the authority with which Mrs. Ward voiced the last sentence. Inside she was shaking but her mind was clear. She considered the actions that would follow and realised her skirt was tight and would present difficulties. Reaching down she unfastened five buttons on each side making it into a split skirt. She nodded and stood and said firmly but in a low voice, “Yes thank you ma’am.”
She heard the Head whisper “good girl” even as Mrs. Ward said firmly, “Come over here girl, stand at my right.” Wordlessly she obeyed, not quite sure what to expect, trusting these wise old ladies (42 and 47 years old) implicitly. “You have done nothing wrong,“ said Mrs. Ward severely, “but at this juncture the girl would be told in no uncertain terms why she was here. She would be in no doubt as to the standards expected of her, standards she failed to achieve. It would be pointed out that she had been warned, possibly given essays but now had no one to blame but herself. After she was thoroughly ashamed and almost in tears she would be spanked.” Kirsty was surprised at the way the words ate into her, could see how this woman who earned everyone’s respect could reduce a young girl to tears merely by expressing disappointment. Suddenly Kirsty was aware of falling over Mrs. Ward’s lap even as she said in her disciplinarian’s voice “Over you go my girl!”
Kirsty gasped as she found herself over Mrs. Ward’s lap, her feet automatically stretching out, her hands reaching for the floor for balance. The ease with which Mrs. Ward handled her reminded Kirsty that Mrs. Ward coached the hockey team, stood in for the gym mistress. The realisation of the power of this woman frightened Kirsty but she was determined to suffer with dignity. With a practised hand Mrs. Ward flicked Kirsty’s skirt up onto her back and almost in the same movement tugged her sports pants mid way down her thighs. Suddenly her buttocks felt more than naked, they felt vulnerable. She felt Mrs. Ward's heavy hand resting on her bottom, felt herself shiver with fear, felt Mrs. Wards left hand settle on her back holding her in place. She was a grown girl of seventeen, an adult almost and here she was over a woman's knee about to be spanked! She was half-aware in the back of her mind just how child like and foolish she felt submitting like this. She didn’t see Mrs. Ward nod but she saw Mrs. Hall place a small hourglass on the floor. As soon as it was upended and the grains flowed she felt Mrs. Ward’s hand lift.
Kirsty couldn’t help an involuntary “ouch” of pain as she was slapped. She had no idea, couldn’t know what a spanking really was. The hand rose and fell rapidly, eliciting a series of “ouches” and “ows” from Kirsty before she managed to gather her wits, straighten her legs and force herself to lay still and quiet as she was spanked and spanked. Kirsty forced herself to focus on the hourglass and try to separate her mind form her body (bottom). Whimsical thoughts went through her head, surely Mrs. Ward wouldn’t spank juniors this hard? How did the second year the other day accept this so stoically? No wonder the first year cried so hard. She was also surprised at how loud the tattoo of spanks was as it filled the room, she felt her bottom heating up, the sting was bearable but she was certainly not comfortable. Without thought she began to wriggle a little trying to ease the sting. Surely more sands had gone than that, surely more than thirty seconds had elapsed? As she stared at the sands she realised Mrs. Ward was covering all her bottom, even the top of the thighs, the pain was rising, al the little stings were joining as one, it felt now as though a fire was being lit in her bottom. It was obvious there was to be no mercy as Mrs. Ward continued to beat a rapid tattoo on her sore cheeks. After one minute Kirsty’s sports training took over and determined not to be defeated and humiliate herself she began to breathe heavily in and out. This tactic had no effect on Mrs. Ward, she just continued to slap at Kirsty’s bare red cheeks with the same fury. When thirty seconds remained Kirsty again began to hiss and mumble “ouch” and “ow” her hips began to wriggle in earnest. Mrs. Ward didn’t slow or lessen her attack on Kirsty’s red-hot buttocks, she just gripped Kirsty tighter and continued to beat her cheeks. Kirsty didn’t know how much she wriggled, one part of her mind was still determined that she would accept this ordeal gracefully, all movements and soft cries were involuntary. Her eyes felt hot as she fought to prevent the tears flowing.
Through the pain and heat Kirsty heard Mrs. Ward admonish her “No rubbing my girl, stand now.” She felt herself helped to her feet, struggled to keep her hands by her sides, fighting her instinct to try and rub the sting from her bottom. “Now gather your skirt in front of you and stand in the corner over there.” Kirsty didn’t even think to question the order and shuffled over to the corner indicated, her face feeling as red as her bottom as she realised this deliberate humiliation was part of the spanking. Standing in the corner, feeling sorry for herself and moving from foot to foot, Kirsty listened to Mrs. Ward. “The punished girl is made to stand quietly like that for two minutes or so Miss Woods to reflect on her behaviour, its' consequences and her future. As you are now no doubt aware it is humiliating and embarrassing but very effective. Try and put yourself inside the mind of a young child and imagine how she feels. Now do you understand the importance of the prefects being there to reassure if needed? Some of the girls need to be convinced that the punishment ends it, that they are redeemed and can be worthy members of the school again. Others will just need advice and guidance.”
Kirsty almost became used to her condition as she really did begin to understand, her brain realising the truth of Mrs. Ward’s words. It was only Mrs. Wards voice that broke her reverie, “Come Miss Woods join us for tea, adjust your clothing.” Kirsty gladly obeyed, pulling up her pants and adjusting her skirt. She joined the ladies round the coffee table, not able to meet their eyes, blushing and finding her lap fascinating. Her bottom was sore but her embarrassment was the greater problem. She mumbled her thanks as a cup and saucer was placed in front of her.
”Come, come girl,” said the Head briskly, “you took that well, very well, very little fuss, just as you should. No need for embarrassment here we are proud of you.” Kirsty smiled tentatively as she looked up, then down again. Slowly she was encouraged to explore her feelings, to discuss the effect such a spanking would have on a youngster. She had to agree that as a last resort it would prove very effective. “Exactly Miss Woods,” said Mrs. Hall emphatically. “It should be the last resort, too many prefects in the past have been lazy and used it as a first resort. As head girl you can stop that, make the prefects give essays, advice, ensure they mark the essays and help the girls. It will really help Mrs. Ward and I if we know that any girl sent by the prefects deserves her punishment.” Kirsty nodded her agreement, remembering some of the meaner lazier prefects who had tried to rule by fear. Luckily they were very few and usually rooted out by the staff. As they talked the tea was drunk, Kirsty realised that the ladies were looking expectantly at her. Taking her cue Kirsty finished her tea, sat straighter and looked at the two teachers.
“Well Miss Woods,” asked the deputy head, “now you have been spanked is it enough? Or do you think we should proceed with your education?” Mrs. Ward arched her eyebrow and smiled.
“Ma’am,” she replied soberly, “I understand now how corporal punishment strips away everything and makes one face the truth, it’s probably enough. But I truly believe to be true to the school, the girls and myself we must continue.”
Mrs. Ward managed to look wise, kind and sympathetic as she nodded and went to a cupboard and extracted two items, a leather paddle and a strap. Kirsty’s attention switched between Mrs. Ward and these tools as she listened. “The typical middle school girl is either paddled or strapped with these. As you probably know the maximum penalty is eight strokes, but on occasion after considerations of a girl’s circumstances and consultation with parents it has been known for a girl to receive six strokes twice on succeeding Fridays. Myself and the head have discussed this and we feel that four strokes with each would best allow you to fully understand the effect and significance, but as you are not her for punishment and you are to be caned later three of each will suffice.” Mrs. Ward was watching Kirsty very closely now for her reaction. Kirsty for her part was stunned, shocked and frightened. The leather paddle was small, only fifteen inches long and about seven inches wide at the oval head. The strap looked vicious, about two feet long (later she was told it was twenty-one inches), with a split into two tails for the last foot. Her gaze swept from these instruments to Mrs. Ward to Mrs. Hall. Almost in a trance she heard herself speak.
“Ma’am I trust you and the head implicitly and totally. This is the one and only time I am going to experience this and I think it’s best I am given full knowledge of the effects. I’d rather you had not given me a choice but you have. Can you just treat me like a girl please and do what you think is best for me? Give me the eight strokes you thought would best demonstrate the effect on the girls? And when you cane me please just treat me as a pupil?”
Strangely the ladies smiled and nodded respectfully. “Very well Miss Woods,” said Mrs. Ward as she stood and moved a hard backed chair into the middle of the room. “We usually call the girls by their first names to regress them to childhood, make them feel small. So Kirsty come over here and bend over, grip each side of the chair with your hands.” Mrs. Ward held the paddle loosely in her hands and waited with the patience of Job as if secure in the knowledge she would be obeyed. Kirsty stood and approached the chair, looking down, calculating then slowly eased forward and gripped the chair as she had been bid. It felt strange to be so meekly offering herself for chastisement, but at the same time she felt the authority of these women that had guided her for so long. Her heart began to hammer in her chest as she felt Mrs. Ward lift her skirt onto her back and use a pin to hold it in place. Even with her panties on Kirsty felt the cool air around her cheeks and the top of her legs. An involuntary shudder passed through her.
She heard Mrs. Ward’s voice say “Your punishment shall be four strokes with the paddle followed by four with the strap. Try to hold onto the chair Kirsty, some girls make an awful fuss and on occasion we have to ask parents to either authorise us to use assistance to hold the girl in place or remove the girl from the school.”
When Kirsty heard these words her stomach flipped over, she wondered at the pain that she was going to experience. However she held onto the thought that she was doing this for the girls, not because she was a bad person. She took a huge shuddering breath and steeled herself to be a model victim. She shuffled her feet, straightened her legs completely unaware that this had the effect of raising her bottom slightly almost as an invitation. “I’ll try to be co-operative ma’am,” she said immediately aware of the incongruity and inanity of the words. She blushed and wished she could snatch the words back. All too soon she felt the paddle placed against her right buttock and without conscious thought her body flinched.
Seasoned campaigner that she was Mrs. Ward practised her craft quickly and efficiently. Her hand raised shoulder high, hesitated while she took aim, and then the paddle was slammed hard and firm against the top of Kirsty’s right panty covered cheek. As the paddle was raised she checked the girl was still in place and brought it down hard and firm across the top of the left cheek. Briskly but not rushing twice more Mrs. Ward raised the paddle and brought it down hard the third blow striking the lower half of Kirsty’s right cheek, the final stroke hitting the lower left cheek. Neither rushing nor dallying Mrs. Ward exchanged the paddle for the strap checking Kirsty’s position and demeanor.
When Kirsty felt the paddle lifted she scarcely had time to brace and take a breath before the paddle slammed into her right cheek. The shock rocked her forward and forced a soft “oof” from her lips, the pain was not too bad at first but then the bruised and abused nerves felt themselves felt. The thud of the impact was nothing compared to the heat and sting that spread over the impact area. The shock and pain was too much to squeal, Kirsty struggled to hold onto the chair and braced for the next blow that came all too soon. Again the thud followed by the expanding sting that she couldn’t rub because she HAD to hold on, had to show these ladies she was worthy. When the third stroke landed Kirsty, bent her knees such was her need to make the sting go away, bravely though she straightened in time to receive the fourth stroke with a groan forced between clenched teeth. Now she began to think of stopping this, asking herself why should she be punished when she had done nothing. Many excuses to stop ran through her mind but some sort of pride made her understand this was not a punishment it was for enlightenment. This didn’t lessen the pain though and fearfully she glanced over her shoulder as Mrs. Ward again moved to her side, now with the strap in her hand.
“Face the front girl,” said Mrs. Ward firmly but not unkindly. Kirsty nodded and with a mumbled “sorry Ma’am” did as she was bid. Heart in mouth Kirsty renewed her grip on the chair and dug deep looking for the courage she needed. She was seventeen, never been spanked and she felt shame as much as pain, shame for what she didn’t know, her position in itself was humiliating. Kirsty’s knuckles turned white as the strap was placed across her sore cheeks.
Again Mrs. Ward was efficiency personified. Four times in a steady cadence the strap rose and fell, each blow an inch or so lower than the previous, the two tails covering both cheeks. The sound was not as dramatic as the paddle but the effect on Kirsty was electric. As the first stroke of the strap landed Kirsty was momentarily surprised that it didn’t rock her like the paddle, she just felt a sharp line across her cheeks. Then within a split second it was as if a flame along the track left by the strap lighted up every nerve! Her back arched, her body went rigid and through it all Kirsty only knew she had to hold on to the chair. When the second stroke landed her body reacted in a similar way, she moaned but again managed to hold onto the chair and strangely she realised somewhere inside herself that she could take this punishment if she had to! She was one of the girls. When the third stroke landed she heard a soft cry of “no,” escape her lips, a long drawn out cry. Even as she heard herself Kirsty knew it wasn’t a cry to stop it was a cry for the girls that they should commit an act so shameful that this became necessary. She didn’t know it, but both the head and deputy head saw and approved, in the short time between the third and fourth stroke of the strap Kirsty straightened herself and pushed her bottom out proudly for the strap. This pride didn’t stop Kirsty yelping in pain as the final stroke landed, or her knees buckling slightly, or the tears of pain and shame flowing down her cheeks. Little did she realise but both teachers were watching her with nothing but pride as she brought her wriggling hips under control and straightened her legs, her hands still gripping the chair, long hair hiding her face. The smiled at each other as if sharing the same memories as the girl sobbed quietly in position.
After a minute or so, when Kirsty felt control returning she felt Mrs. Ward unpin her skirt. “Stand up Kirsty, it’s over, you did very well, most girls facing their first paddling do not show your fortitude. Well done.” Slowly Kirsty stood, straightened her skirt and unable to meet the ladies gaze wiped her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling like a child. She saw and felt a tissue pushed into her hand and heard Mrs. Hall say, “Your behaviour, as I expected was impeccable, now compose yourself dear girl and we shall have tea. Your tears are nothing to be ashamed of, indeed most girls cry, not the pain but the shame. I suspect somewhere you found a source of shame? You managed to put yourself in their place I think?”
Kirsty stood quietly for a few minutes sniffling, rubbing her bottom ruefully then slowly hesitantly spoke. “Yes Ma’am I can see why this form of punishment is so effective. First it is the girl who has to commit an act so bad as to end up in that position and then because of that position the girl has to face her own act and the consequence. She can bluster and squirm as much as she likes but ultimately if she bends over she must in her own mind know she deserves it, or has earned it.”
Both ladies were smiling as they led Kirsty over to the table for the planned repast, Mrs. Hall saying, “Well said Miss. Woods, you are wise beyond your years. Mrs. Ward and I have discussed this many times and you are right. If the girl honestly believes she is not guilty she will convince us, otherwise she submits because she knows the truth deep inside. But of course the other benefit is that after acknowledging the offence and accepting the punishment there can be a sense of closure, of dues paid. That makes it possible for the girl, us and the school to move on without trailing nasty baggage.”
Despite shuffling about on her chair because of the pain Kirsty found herself drawn into an intellectual debate on the efficacy of spanking as a deterrent and means of ultimate forgiveness. At one point as she leaned forward for more food and unconsciously let her left hand rub her sore cheek she caught the knowing smiles of the head and headmistress and blushed prettily and looked down. This cause a light moment of relief as all agreed the painful reality was somewhat different to the abstract. The conversation moved onto other school matters, and Kirsty hesitantly proposed a plan for the school sports training program, a mentoring system that she had read was used by some successful nations. This brought forth an in depth grilling that made Kirsty glad she had done her research, it was obvious these powerful ladies didn’t want half formed or half baked ideas being played with. From there the trio moved to Kirsty’s thoughts on her team of prefects, then to her ideas for developing bright youngsters and getting the less bright to achieve their full potential. The talk went on well into early evening and without thought Kirsty stood to help clear away the dishes much as she would at home. She realised then that her bottom now was just a tingle to remind her of her earlier ordeal.
Mrs. Hall nodded encouragingly and said “Yes, good idea Kirsty you help Mrs. Ward wash and I’ll get the study ready for your caning.” The matter of fact manner struck Kirsty as almost bizarre but she managed to nod coolly and go about her chosen task. In the kitchen Mrs. Ward deliberately kept the conversation light and Kirsty had no choice but to go along, but all the time her mind was in the study wondering what she had to face. Strangely she was calm now, she had proved her courage and she was determined now to try and role play one of the girls and see if she could experience what they experienced. She began to focus on a particularly mean trick she had once played on her little brother, a sweet natured child that deserved far better, his very sweetness making him an easy target. When the crockery was dried Kirsty followed Mrs. Ward back to the study, feeling herself once more to be mean and nasty, much as she had that day long ago.
Entering the study Kirsty’s eyes were drawn to the sideboard, bare now except for two canes that she recognised from tales that were whispered in the dorms. The thinner cane was the junior cane, the thicker one the senior cane, some said the dragon cane because of the fire it lit in the backside! Her next realisation was the table that had been moved away from the wall into the centre of the room. As they entered Mrs. Hall stood and moved to the table and picked up the junior cane. The change in her was spectacular, now she was the gimlet eyed disciplinarian, Kirsty her victim. In her own mind Kirsty was now the mean girl she had briefly been and already she could feel the shame because she knew she deserved this. Now she truly understood what the girls went through. “Well Miss. Woods you know why you are here, there is no purpose in a lecture you do not deserve so we shall proceed.” As Mrs. Hall spoke in a terse voice that brooked no argument Kirsty realised the true power of the Head’s personality, she wasn’t capable of doing anything other than she was ordered. “When girls are brought to me,” she continued implacably, “they are lectured then told what their punishment will be. For you this will be four strokes with each cane, only eight with the senior cane being more severe. I shall expect you to behave with decorum and dignity as far as you are able. The punishment always takes place over my desk with the guilty party gripping the far side. This table will serve. Now girl approach the table and stand in front of it.” As if in a trance Kirsty obeyed, stopping when she felt her jacket brush the table edge.
“Now girl bunch up your skirt to your waist and bend over the table trap your skirt so it stays up," Mrs. Hall continued, “reach across the table and grip the far edge.” Realising that with the buttons unfastened this would be difficult Kirsty gathered the back of her skirt up over her waist and bunched it up in front of herself and stepped forward till she felt the edge of the table against her belly. She bent forward and as her body weight trapped the skirt reached out and grasped the far edge. The table felt cool against her belly and breasts, her legs goose pimpled from the cool air, her bottom felt as though it was being offered up to she knew what not, but she knew it was the focal point of all three persons present. Oddly Kirsty felt calm now, she absently mused that the way she was made to bare her own bottom, offer her panty clad cheeks to the cane was yet another acknowledgement of her guilt, her acceptance of the justice of her punishment. She steeled herself for the ordeal to come but was now certain she would endure no matter what the pain and no matter how her body rebelled.
She heard a whistle as Mrs. Hall tested the flexibility of the cane, sensed movement as Mrs. Hall positioned herself to her left. Kirsty closed her eyes and tried to separate her body from the pain to come as she felt the light cane placed against her almost bare cheeks. Two taps were swiftly followed by a whistle then the cane landed right across the top of both cheeks! The pain was like nothing she had known, a sharp sting that seemed to embed itself deep in her bottom, a pain that made Kirsty want to jump and yell and rub away the hornets that she imagined might be there. Remarkably her brain was now in control and other than an involuntary gasp she made no movement. Somewhere she heard that whistle again and another electric sting, just below the first, again the pain expanded into that almost unbearable sting, but again Kirsty merely gasped and lay calm and accepting. When the third stroke landed an inch lower across both cheeks Kirsty heard someone she guessed was herself yelp loudly but apart from an unstoppable relaxing and clenching of her hands she remained still. Her bottom though was now screaming at her, the fire was all over and when the fourth whistle signaled the arrival of the cane again she squealed even as the cane landed, anticipating the pain even as it spread to join the already throbbing buttocks. When Mrs. Hall changed canes Kirsty took mental stock of herself, finding the pain could be endured cheered her a little and in her role she felt the shame of what she did to her little brother come to the fore. She actually found herself mentally calling out to him that she was sorry, that she didn’t mean it. Tears of pain were beginning to flow even as she felt the heavier senior cane across her bottom. With her heightened awareness she realised the cane was exactly between the two strokes first given by the junior cane. Two taps alerted Kirsty then she heard to her surprise not a whistle but a heavy whoosh as the cane passed through the air. The cane landing brought from her a grunt of surprise, not of pain as it landed heavily with a loud crack against her panties. There was no sharp electric sting just a thud, and then her head lifted and Kirsty yelled her protest, her indignation at the pain! It spread like wildfire her head lifted, she shook her head and somehow accepted the pain again, shifted her mind to embrace it even as the second stroke brought together the second two weals of the junior cane. In vain Kirsty tried to keep the groan of agony between her lips, she didn’t scream, but the tears flowed freely now. Almost in shock Kirsty accepted the third stroke, her back arched, her hands felt as though they would break off a piece of the table, but though she shook her head in protest she remained in place. Mrs. Ward hesitated and then brought the heavy senior cane down at a final time at an angle across the lines already etched in Kirsty’s panties. Kirsty had no choice, she howled her protest and collapsed in a sobbing heap on the table. Her bottom was on fire, she was beyond dignity, she was beyond shame, and all that existed now was the fire in her backside, her flaming buttocks. Mrs. Hall calmly put away the canes, and almost surreally way Mrs. Ward went to make fresh tea. Kirsty was left to her own devices to come to terms with what she had just been through. Being a healthy young girl within two minutes Kirsty showed signs of recovery, obviously still in pain she began to consider how she felt. She realised she felt light and fresh, the guilt she had resurrected was gone and now she knew it had been there all the time, hidden and eating away at her. Now she knew she could face her brother again without guilt. Even in her sorry state Kirsty now knew better than any discussion could teach how the dynamics of crime and punishment worked. If a good person committed offence forgiveness without penance was demoralising. A criminal might be different she supposed but the girls in her care would not be criminals, not if she could help with their moral growth.
When Kirsty heard Mrs. Hall bid her to stand she first reached back and ran her fingers across her nickers, surprised that with all the pain and heat her bottom was not ridged like crepe rubber. Slowly she pushed herself off the table and let her skirt fall into place. Red faced, tear stained she turned to Mrs. Hall and managed a weak smile even as she sobbed. “Thank you Ma’am, I think I understand now.” Mrs. Hall managed to look wise, proud, stern and encouraging as she smiled her approval. The shared moment was broken as Mrs. Ward bustled in with fresh tea on a tray.
Once again the females discussed the events and the ladies curious to know whether Kirsty thought the experience would make her a better head girl. She replied with confidence (but still with a subdued voice and in pain) that she believed it would. “I’ll be able to make decisions about sending girls for corporal punishment dispassionately now because I know the pain is endurable and the washing away of guilt can help. I took almost the maximum punishment and I never expect to send a girl for that, hopefully only a teacher would be involved.” The ladies nodded their acknowledgement of Kirsty’s views but gave no hint as to whether they agreed so Kirsty continued. “I really do believe that corporal punishment should be used as little as possible but if it does become necessary should be carried out quickly and efficiently and ended as soon as possible so the school and its’ girls can move on.” This time the ladies didn’t hide their feelings as they smiled and nodded in agreement.
For over an hour they discussed crime and punishment, theory and practise, from the victim’s viewpoint and the executioner. Mrs. Hall explained her technique for caning, lifting the cane shoulder high and keeping the arm stiff and extended bringing the cane round to the girl’s backside. This, she said, prevented excessive damage and ensured parity for all. Kirsty had winced involuntarily at the thought of a cane used as her squash racket, all the wrist action. She knew her bottom could easily have been cut to ribbons like that! Mrs. Hall explained that she usually made a diagonal pass to finish because it passed over all the previous weals, but had only done so with the second cane but she was sure Kirsty appreciated the result! Kirsty couldn’t help but blush and smile and she nodded. Eventually it seemed a natural time to take her leave.
“Miss Woods,” said Mrs. Hall, “I want you to know how proud we are of you, not just as head girl but because you were brave enough to acknowledge that you had something to learn. I believe the pain will prove small price for the benefits to you and the school. Now you use my downstairs bathroom, wash your face, renew your make up and fasten your skirt before you return to your room. Oh and when do you play sport again?”
Kirsty was thrown off balance by this question and stood for a second or two with her mouth open. Collecting her wits she thought quickly and said she played squash on Tuesday night. “Good,” said Mrs. Hall, “from past experience a good healthy body like yours shouldn’t have any marks left by then, but you should check just in case, some girls take a week for the weals to disappear. A little common sense and a check should keep your secret safe.”
“Thank you ma’am, for everything, and you Mrs. Ward? Kirsty said sincerely as she moved out into the hall and across to the room marked WC. Inside she quickly washed her face brushed her hair and then as she was about to fasten the buttons on her skirt she couldn’t resist it. Feeling like a naughty little girl she turned to look over her shoulder, brushed her skirt to one side and pushed her nickers down wincing at the sudden pain. Her eyes opened wide and she hissed; she had seen cane marks before but not after eight strokes with two canes! Her bottom was a mass of lines and bruises, the thinner weals she imagined from the lighter cane would fade quickly but the heavier cane had left lines of bruises. How on earth could these fade before Tuesday? Quickly she covered herself and fastened her skirt and moved out of the bathroom where she found the two ladies. They smiled in unison and escorted Kirsty to the door as though she was a guest like any other and as if nothing had happened. “We’ll see you at assembly on Monday Kirsty” said Mrs. Ward, “you enjoy your weekend, goodnight now.”
All the way back to her room Kirsty walked with a lighter and lighter step, she felt released even as her bottom still throbbed. Her head was full of ideas about the school now she was unfettered, not held back by niggling doubts. Sophie, her roommate, finally had to plead for sleep so long did Kirsty keep her awake with her newly formed plans.
End of Part I Copyright © 2005 Karla
