Tanya Learns the Hard Way IV

THE teenager slept in fits and starts that night, tossing and turning as she contemplated the next three days. Visions of the rotund, balding disciplinarian tormented her rare periods of sleep. Unencumbered by any distractions, Tanya weighed up her alternatives. Running away from home would only make thing worse for her; she had the common sense to realize that fact. Pleading with her guardian the evening before had only served to irritate Colin Maynard. If anything, it had appeared to make him even more resolute (not that his resolution had ever wavered) in his intention to place his shapely charge in the 'care' of her worst nightmare. She shuddered as she played back in her mind her vivid recollection of the 'interview'' she and Colin Maynard had had at Arthur Barton's residence the day before. The man had treated her with the same icy contempt he had when he was her mathematics teacher. Most of the discussion had been between Barton and Maynard; she had merely been there to give the former schoolmaster a reminder of who he would be dealing with; not that he had needed much reminding. Maynard, for his part, had agreed to the point of enthusiasm with everything the man had proposed. The disciplinarian's stated opinion that she should receive "thrashings second to none" was only questioned to the extent of asking how many strokes Barton "considered appropriate". "As many as are necessary to make Whitfield mend her ways; as many as are necessary," was the response. The only 'concession' made by Arthur Barton was to allow the girl's guardian to be present at certain events in Tanya's discipline 'programme.' Barton had said , more as a reassurance to a possibly concerned guardian, that the girl's correction would take place under conditions of the strictest privacy. Maynard had asked whether this applied to even the legal guardian of the girl. He had muttered something about wanting to be satisfied that "a proper job was being done" Arthur Barton had then put the ball into Maynard's court by saying that while he did not want to place him in an uncomfortable position (he excused the pun) , he would give him a choice of a few 'events'. He did warn the teenager's guardian that he could find himself being embarrassed by what he witnessed. "The modesty of the pupil is given scant regard during their stay," he explained. "On the other hand," he conceded, "given the scandalous accusations unjustly leveled against you by this hypocrite, it would make sense to really give her a taste of her own medicine." Tanya knew without a doubt, although it had never been explicitly spelt out to her, that she was going to be subjected to a caning (or canings) on her bare backside. She accepted that and wished that she could have got it over with. But now she was faced with the agonising wait until the morning before the ordeal began; and what an ordeal she faced. Several days under the bulging eyes and podgy hands of Arthur Barton, the Baldy Man.

Tanya Whitfield had packed her bags (literally) the night before. Colin Maynard had not wanted to leave these preparations until the last moment. From his point of view, eleventh hour hitches could scupper the arrangements. Furthermore, Arthur Barton had given express instructions, both verbally and in the form of a computer printed list, as to what the she would be required to bring with her. The list read:

"Item Listing: FEMALE

Regulation summer school uniform (excluding blazer)
(Including socks: regulation, short ankle)

Underwear:
Panties (white, bikini style. NOTE: thong/g-string type ARE NOT PERMITTED)
Brassieres (white, standard) Maximum 2.

Other clothing items:
Denim jeans 1 pair
T-shirts (sleeveless)
Running shoes
Gym vests (regulation) 2
Gym shorts (regulation) 2

Sleepwear: The pupil will be permitted to wear only ONE item of sleeping attire at night. It is, therefore, suggested that a long sleep shirt or vest be provided for this purpose.

NOTE: Where quantities have not been expressly stated, the pupil will be expected to take the length of stay into account when determining the appropriated quantity of an item to bring with him/her. It should also be borne in mind that washing (by hand) of items of underwear, socks, etc will form part of the pupil's daily duties irrespective of the number of clean items still available.

Toiletries and personal hygiene items:
Shampoo, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, etc
Facecloths
Sanitary items
Deodorant (no perfume will be permitted)
Lady's razor

NOTE:
The Tutor will provide towels. Any other toiletry item, which has not been expressly or implicitly prohibited, may be brought along provided that the Tutor is made aware of these items.

Hair, make-up and jewellery:

The following accepted school regulations with regard to these matters will be rigorously enforced:

Hair: To be neat at all times (especially when the pupil is wearing school uniform). Long hair is to be securely fastened into a ponytail, pigtail or other acceptable style.
Make-up: Low-level usage of make-up is encouraged subject to the result conforming to accepted school standards. This includes the use of colourless varnish on finger and toenails.
Jewellery: A single set of either small stud or small sleeper-type earrings is the only allowable jewellery item with the exception of a Medic-alert bracelet. This prohibition applies even to items normally concealed by clothing.

Current text-writing books and writing materials, etc:
Text and writing books relevant to the current stage of the pupil's curriculum Pens, pencils, rules, calculators, etc as applicable.

Compliance with the above requirements is the responsibility of the pupil, NOT THE PARENT OR GUARDIAN. Failure to comply with these requirements without an acceptable excuse will render the pupil liable to punishment determined appropriate by the Tutor. "

Tanya had managed, with a great deal of difficulty and a far lesser degree of assistance from her guardian, to complete the task of gathering the items on the list. The clothing had been packed into a large sports bag;; there really wasn't a lot to pack. It was mainly underwear and vests. Colin Maynard had read the list thoroughly and made the odd suggestion as he watched the anxious schoolgirl scurry about the house collecting the assortment of articles listed by the disciplinarian. Sending Tanya to Barton was a drastic reaction to her behaviour problem, he mused. But the reaction needed to be drastic, he reasoned. The feeling of satisfaction had tempered his slight apprehension at agreeing to place his charge under the reigns of Arthur Barton. Satisfaction after how she had teased him. It had been a tease; he was sure of that. She wouldn't dare do the same thing to Arthur Barton, he thought. The boot was on the other foot now and he would even have the chance of seeing the former mathematics master imposing discipline on Tanya. He would love to watch her being caned but he did not know if Barton would allow that. He had wondered what the next few days would hold in store for him as he observed the girl, clad in a short t-shirt and tracksuit pants, carrying an armful of underwear from the laundry to he room. The waistband of her panties was clearly visible above the elasticized waistband of the tracksuit bottoms. Barton will soon have those off, he thought, smiling inwardly.

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THE moment of reckoning had arrived.

Colin Maynard stole a peek at the teenager beside him. In her short-sleeved summer school dress and white ankle socks, she was typically schoolgirl. But then she was a schoolgirl and it was a warm summer school day. A normal school day for others; but not for seventeen year-old Tanya Whitfield.

One more, they stood outside the large residential property of Arthur Barton. She, clutching the sports bag in one hand with her school haversack slung over the opposite shoulder, he with hands firmly entrenched in the depths of his pockets. Let her carry her own bags he thought. Let her know who's calling the shots now.

The gate opened and, once again, they made their way towards the front door of the large house. Arthur Barton was there to greet them; or rather to greet Colin Maynard and peruse the tanned teenager with him. He wore the gown of the archetypal schoolmaster; but, then again, he was the typical schoolmaster. Not quite in the Mr Chipps class in the compassion and leniency stakes; rather the opposite. To Tanya , he was now definitely as she remembered him from schooldays gone by; more so than the previous day. He wore a suit and tie and left now doubt that he meant business with her.

"Follow me," said leading the way to his study. Colin Maynard was offered a chair; she was instructed to stay standing. "Put your bags on the floor," he told her sharply.

"All that I need from you now, Mr Maynard," he announced, "is your signature to this document" He pushed a single page document across the desk and, almost as an afterthought, removed an expensive pen from an inside jacket pocket and handed that to Maynard as well. "Preferably at both places to avoid any complication," he added. Tanya, who was standing close to her guardian's chair strained to seen the contents of the paper. She knew that it was a document granting the horrible man the right to punish her but she wanted to see exactly what it said. She did not want to invoke the ire of the Baldy Man at this early stage by making her curiosity obvious and the writing was too small for her to make out anything meaningful from her position.

Her guardian could see what authority the document gave to Arthur Barton. It stated:

"I, the undersigned give my authority to MR ARTHUR BARTON (M.ed) to discipline and correct TANIA WHITFIELD as he sees fit and appropriate to do so. This Authority provides expressly for the following:

* Corporal Punishment, with the appropriate implement, to the buttocks or any other part of the body which is reasonably construed as being acceptable for such punishment
* Physical Exercise sessions of a duration and nature to be determined by the Tutor.
* School work based upon the pupil's current curriculum
* Assignment of daily chores relating to washing of clothes, housekeeping and any other tasks the Tutor may wish to be part of the pupil's duties roster.
* Removal of Clothing:

Where this forms part of punishment or discipline or any other procedure deemed necessary by the Tutor. It must be stressed that where the pupil is required to be without clothing, this will be done under conditions of extreme privacy. The only exception will be where there is a reasonable request from a parent or guardian, which has been acceded to by the Tutor, to be present (See the Modesty Clause, below)

Signed:

Date:

Parent/guardian

The Modesty Clause:
While the pupil will on no occasion be required to expose him/herself in a lewd manner gratuitously, it is unavoidable that there will be instances where the nature of the punishment or procedure could be construed as such. It is for this reason that the following express authority be given by the parent/guardian in respect of any instruction to undress that will result in genital nudity:

Genital nudity authorized:

Signed:

Date:

Parent/Guardian"

Colin Maynard noted the contents, sighed with pleasure and signed at both places.

Tanya Whitfield's correction was about to begin in earnest.

Addressing Tanya for the first time, Arthur Barton put it to Tanya: "Whitfield. Do you have anything to say, in front of your stepfather, before your period of punishment begins?" This was a standard procedure; one which Barton always used to set the ball rolling.

"No, I don't," replied the schoolgirl. Discretion was the better part of valour, she reasoned. She could offer any number of pathetic excuses for her behaviour but, she realised resignedly, the time for looking for an easy escape was over.

"So you accept that you need to be punished?" Barton suggested. He was starting to hammer home his authority.

"Yes" came the meek reply. "Yes I do"

"And we all agree, don't we?" The strict disciplinarian's remark was directed at the girl's guardian.

Colin Maynard said nothing. Glowing inside with satisfaction, he did not have to say a thing. He could continue to play the passive, innocent role he had adopted from the outset of the crisis. Of course he agreed with Arthur Barton. Let her suffer. She had brought it on herself; now let her pay the price.

Adressing Maynard in a solemn tone, Barton offered somewhat cynical solace where it was not sought. But to Tanya Whitfield, it reinforced her sense of absolute isolation. "Mr Maynard. I know that this has been a hard thing for you but, believe me, you have done the right thing"

"It has not been easy decision for me to make," replied Colin Maynard. "But I'm sure you will do what has to be done in a proper way," he added.

"I will," promised Arthur Barton. "I know this sounds cliched, but one has to be cruel to be kind" Uttered by anyone but him it would have been downright corny. Coming from him, it sent a chill down the spine of the pretty teenager. Glancing at his large hairy hands and bald headed, ugly face, she knew beyond a doubt that he meant what he had said.

"Now," continued the stern schoolmaster,"I must ask you to leave, Mr Maynard. I will phone you this evening to confirm your visit tomorrow. You must understand that I need to commence with the correction programme immediately"

"Yes, I do understand" agreed Maynard. "It's just that I." he trailed off.

"I know what you're saying, Mr Maynard" Arthur Barton did not have to be psychic to understand the point Tanya Whitfield's guardian was trying to make. "I fully understand your concern that the correction of your stepdaughter will not be properly carried out and that you desire to see with your own eyes, the discipline being administered"

Maynard nodded. "It's just that the Headmaster was pretty insistent that the punishment be very harsh," he said. Then, realising that he had, perhaps, not chosen his words well, he qualified himself. "Don't get me wrong; I'm only trying to save Tanya from being expelled from Edgemeadow High"

"Your motives are entirely honourable, Mr. Maynard," came Barton's cynical reply. "If the girl cooperates then I will recommend to the headmaster that she be given a last chance at the school" He then proceeded to guide Tanya's guardian to the front door. The teenager was motioned to stay where she was.

"Thank you once again, Mr Barton," repeated Colin Maynard as the door was opened for him to leave. Then, plucking up the courage he put it to the ugly disciplinarian: "I must insist that I be allowed to witness some part of Tanya's punishment which involves... you know." He had lost himself again. He couldn't find the appropriate phrase.

"Nudity?" prompted Arthur Barton, knowingly.

Maynard went red. "Yes... just so that I can see... that she is receiving proper punishment," he stammered with a distinct lack of eloquence.

Barton assured him: "Not to worry, Mr Maynard, I will phone you tonight to arrange for your visit tomorrow" Then, with a smirk, rather than a smile: "I'll provide you with an... um... interesting... expose of Tanya Whitfield's correction"

Having been ushered through the doorway, the heavy oak door was then, somewhat abruptly, closed after Maynard. He listened as locks and bolts were engaged. He then made his way slowly to his car, started up and drove through the large gates. In his rear-view mirror he watched as they automatically closed behind him.

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"COME with me, Whitfield. Bring your baggage," Arthur Barton barked.

The buxom teenager obeyed immediately. To a substantial degree, Tanya had accepted her fate and had made up her mind to try to get through the ordeal as painlessly as possible. Her intention was to step outside of herself, metaphorically speaking, for the duration of her period of punishment, seal the experience in a box at the end of it all and come back into herself. The situation she found herself in was so unreal that it demanded an equally surreal way of coping with it.

The man led her to, what was in effect, a completely separate section of the large house. It could, in fact, easily have been described as a small dwelling connected by a single door to the rest of the house. Once inside, Barton locked the door behind them. A passage, with linoleum flooring, stretched in front of her; resembling a cold corridor in a school - or a prison. The locking of the door made the latter a more appropriate description of her surroundings. While the left corridor wall was blank, several rooms opened onto the right of the corridor.

Barton opened the first door. "Here is the shower and toilet area," he said, coldly. Tanya looked inside. It was a standard bathroom-toilet; toilet, hand basin and a tiled shower stall. What she did notice, although this could easily have been overlooked, was that there was no cover across the front of the shower. Very strange, she thought.

Tanya was then ushered into the next room. Its furnishings comprised a single bed, a small bedside table, white melamine built-in cupboards along the length of one wall and a matching dressing table next to the window. The sturdy burglar bars over the outside of the window left the schoolgirl in little doubt that these ostensibly protective features served the additional, sinister, purpose of ensuring her permanent attendance. There was no chance of her playing truant from this room, she mused.

"This will be your lodgings, Whitfield," he announced, somewhat unnecessarily. Tanya placed her bags on the carpeted floor. The room, in fact, this entire section of the house to which she assumed she would be confined, had a "new" smell about it. Unlike the rest of the house, with it's oak and teak furnishings, bookshelves and polished wooden floors, the appearance and feel of this extension was more that of a dormitory. A dormitory in a strict boarding school. To all intents and purposes, the shapely teenager thought, this was where she was. A boarding school or a reformatory.

"Stop looking about you and listen to me," Arthur Barton ordered. "Listen very closely," he stressed, leering at his young charge. Tanya listened.

"You are here to be disciplined to the full extent of the mandate authorised by your stepfather and requested by your school headmaster. You will comply with each and every instruction you are given without hesitation" He paused, looking the schoolgirl slowly up and down. Instinctively, she tugged the hem of her school dress. She cursed her flirtatiousness. Aware that her long, tanned shapely legs were, in addition to her generous breasts, a commodity worth advertising, she wore her hemline as high as school regulations permitted. She had never, however, intended the visual beneficiary to be the Baldy Man. Arthur Barton observed her obvious self-consciousness. "Should I consider that you are not being sufficiently co-operative, you will receive additional punishments to that which you have already warranted"

Tanya offered a meek nod of acknowledgement.

"I expect a high standard of personal neatness and hygiene from you, Whitfield," he continued. "And don't think I won't check," he added, not elaborating. "You were provided with a fairly comprehensive set of instructions as to the requirements in that regard," he added.

Almost as an afterthought: "This room," he gestured, "is to be kept tidy at all times. As it is now, so it should be maintained. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes. Yes, you do, sir," she replied.

Barton glanced at his watch. "Time marches on," he remarked impatiently. "You need to begin repaying you debt to your school and your guardian immediately" He then proceeded to instruct Tanya to unpack her things and pack them away. "Clothing belongs in the cupboard, Whitfield. Your toiletries go in the bathroom area next door. Hurry up, hurry up!" he barked impatiently.

The fat disciplinarian watched as the schoolgirl hurriedly packed her clothing in the cupboard. He noted, with particular interest, the items of underwear - the white brassieres and panties - as these were stored away. When all clothing and bags had been put away she took her toiletries bag to the bathroom.

"Tanya Whitfield," he declared in a formal tone. "You will receive an initial punishment of ten strokes with a medium cane. I stress initial because that punishment relates directly to your delinquent behaviour at school" The ugly man was leaving her in no doubt as to what to expect. "Of course," he added, matter-of-factly, "whatever other punishments I feel it necessary to administer will be additional.

Tanya remained silent. She knew Arthur Barton. What could she possibly say to change matters?

"Come this way," instructed the man, opening the door. The tour of the house's extension continued. Barton introduced the next room. "The gym," he announced, opening the door. The only furnishing was a single chair against one of the walls. He noticed the puzzled look on the 17- year old's face. "The chair is for me; the floor is for you," he explained, closing the door as they left.

"This room," he declared, with finality in his voice as they stood outside the closed door to the last room in the passage, "is the room that defines the reason for your being on these premises" The smirk on the face of former mathematics master reinforced the sense of absolute helplessness in the anxious girl. "You will become very acquainted with the interior of this room. If you had not already guessed, Whitfield, this is the door to the Corporal Punishment Area" He paused to let the words sink in.

Three clothes hooks, of the type usually used to hang jackets and coats, were screwed to the wall, adjacent to the door to this room. From one of the hooks hung a double clothes hanger. "Pupils entering the room are required to remove their clothing before doing so"

"What!" Tanya gasped, putting her hand in front of her mouth in shock. "Even girls?"

"Even girls," he confirmed in a monotone voice.

"They keep their underthings on, don't they?" she pressed hopefully.

With an impatient sigh, Barton drummed home his point. "Shoes, with socks or stockings inside them, are placed neatly on the floor. The hanger is used for outer clothing - dresses, shirts, trousers, etcetera" He paused before delivering the unambiguous fact: "One hook is for underwear. I'll spell it out to you. In the case of a male pupil, his underpants; in your case, your bra and your panties"

"Does my guardian know about this?" she asked, without thinking. Too late to backtrack, she offered a meek "I suppose he does"

"Know what, Whitfield? That his delinquent stepdaughter's modesty is going to be compromised during the course of her due punishment? Yes, he is fully aware of this fact," the gloating man answered cruelly.

Forcing eye contact from her, he put it to the pretty teenager: "Tell me, Whitfield," he enquired with more than a touch of sarcasm in his cultured voice. "What worries you more; the thought of receiving a number of stinging cuts on your backside or the embarrassment of being unclothed?" He took in the sight of her large breasts straining under the thin cotton school dress as she breathed deeply, pondering her predicament and the tutor's question simultaneously. "I want an honest answer from you," he continued. "I may just be able to stretch the bounds of leniency if you are able to appeal to my innate sense of justice and fair play," he lied.

Tanya, from her knowledge of Arthur Barton, would not have considered the words "just" and "fair" to be apt adjectives by which to describe the disciplinarian. However, being in the situation that she found herself in, the mere mention of the word "leniency" was tantamount to a turnaround in her fortunes. For the beleaguered girl it was a straw to clutch at, an opportunity to go for.

Digging deep to find an appropriate response, she ventured "I suppose I deserve to be punished... I mean... I don't want to be caned but I suppose I can't complain because of what I've done." she rambled.

Barton interrupted her. "Okay, so you say you agree with the caning bit. What about the other part?"

"I don't like the other part," she answered simply, eyes downcast.

"What you're saying, Whitfield - correct me if I'm wrong - is that I should administer the strokes over your clothing in the way this would normally be done to boys at school?" The man skillfully modulated his voice to give the impression that he this was an option worth considering. Tanya felt her spirits lifting a tad.

His eventual "No, I'm afraid we are not in a normal situation" dashed her rising hope. This was the way Arthur Barton dealt with his pupil, in the classroom and the discipline area. Give them hope, then slide it away gradually. "Let's try another angle. Item by item"

Item by item. What did that mean, she wondered.

Pointing at her feet, the man began. "Removal of your shoes and socks would not cause you any embarrassment so it's not necessary to even discuss that. Do you agree?"

"I suppose so," she replied.

A twisted smile appeared on the man's face. To Tanya, this made him look even more ugly. "See, Whitfield, we agree" The smile had transformed itself into his standard smirk. "I would consider your dress to be an obstruction to your discipline," he continued, looking at the one-piece button-down Edgemeadow High summer school dress. "How do you feel about it?"

"I would like to keep it on," she responded immediately. "I really would, sir"

Once more feigning genuine consideration of her plea, he continued on his way towards the inevitable. "I can't allow that. There would be too many layers of clothing covering the relevant area of your anatomy," he told her. "In any case, if my memory serves me, I've already seen you in your underwear - in the school gymnasium. Am I not correct, Whitfield?"

Oh, no! So he did remember that episode. "Yes, but-" she stammered. Seeing the pointlessness of arguing with him on that score, she stopped herself.

"But nothing," he continued abruptly. "Such protestations of modesty are lost on me, I'm afraid, young lady. From what I've been told, you parade yourself in front of others in a darn side less that your underwear!" Definite signs of anger were beginning to emanate from the tutor's voice and general demeanour. Tanya detected this and decided to back off from any response that could enrage Arthur Barton.

His voice returning to its moderated tone, he said coolly: "So you see, I'm not imposing unreasonable conditions for your correction. It's not as if you've spent years in a convent. " He laughed. "Maybe if you had had a strict education like that you would not be in the predicament you find yourself in now"

His ideal of 'reasonable' differed vastly from her own, Tanya decided. "I suppose so," she conceded.

Openly perusing the lovely teenager, he hammered home the final justification. "Despite being considered as having old-fashioned values, I do believe in a large degree of equality between male and female pupils when it comes to the imposition of discipline" He had the ability to couch what was, in effect, cynicism, in plausible language. "Nobody complains when males are punished without their tops. Why should there be any difference in the case of girls?" If there had been any doubt in Tanya's mind about Barton's true intentions, these were well and truly dispelled.

"Your stepfather agrees with me wholeheartedly," he said. "As you must be aware, I am an advocate of the imposition of corporal punishment on naked flesh. This fact, obviously, necessitates the removal of whatever covering the pupil has over that area" He smiled. "Therefore, Whitfield, there is absolutely no reason whatsoever why you should not present yourself in the Corporal Punishment Area in a state of complete undress."

Tanya looked at the door. What indignities would befall her behind it, she mused. Whatever she would have to endure, she reasoned, would be worth it at the end. No expulsion from Edgemeadow High as originally contemplated by the school's head. No boarding school, as threatened by her guardian. With the exception of a rather tarnished reputation, she would attain a clean slate; a new beginning. She definitely did not want to return to this place either. Once she had put these few days behind her, life would be worth living again. That she was now almost in the thick of things was, in a way, more settling than waiting and contemplating what was going to happen to her.

"As I explained to your stepfather, your correction will take place in total privacy," he assured her. "I have, however, made allowance for him to be present at a few selected procedures" He made it sound so clinical.

He wet his lips with his tongue. "His presence will, in a way, also serve as punishment for the disgraceful insinuations you made against him"

"Will he see me getting punished?" she ventured. "In there?"

"Yes, he will, Whitfield," he replied.

He'll love that, she wanted to say. Judiciously, she decided not to.

Taking a few steps back, Barton made a series of popping sounds with his lips as he contemplated the anxious teenager. Sunlight shone through a high burglar-barred window at the other end of the passage, Unbeknown to Tanya Whitfield, this provided the disciplinarian with an engaging outline of her shapely upper legs and thighs through the lightweight cotton clothing.

"So much to do; so little time to do it," he remarked to himself; but for the benefit of the waiting girl. Then, to her, he announced: "This is where it begins, Whitfield. Right here, inside that room" With a tilt of his head, he indicated the door before them.

"Oh no, please... please sir," she mouthed. "Am I going to get... get it... now?" she babbled, unintelligibly. The hopelessness of her situation was beginning to sink in. She had no control over events that impacted upon her totally.

Barton ignored her protestations; he was used to pupils putting up initial resistance to their punishment. In most cases, this was simply of a token nature and was merely a subconscious attempt to prevent a total loss of control over their immediate destiny. On the other hand, he worked on the premise that the earlier the pupil was placed under 'high level' corrective measures, the more secure becomes the basis for the entire programme. He had no intention of relaxing this tenet in the case at hand.

Tapping a podgy index finger against the glass of his watch, he commanded: "You have one minute; that's sixty seconds, to present yourself, as I told you, in here" He opened the door and entered. Leaving the door ajar, he repeated: "Sixty seconds. Any longer and you'll feel the consequences"

Going a ghostly pale as she initially contemplated the implications of what she was being made to do, the schoolgirl revived her earlier intention to 'go with the flow.' Switch off. There was no other way to overcome the sense of complete helplessness that was engulfing her.

Let the Baldy Man do what he had to do, she rationalised. The sooner a thing, anything, was behind her, the closer she would be to the end. The nearer to a 'clean slate' she would be. Don't piss him off, whatever you do, she told herself as she unbuttoned the front of her dress. She slipped it off and hung it neatly on the double hanger. She was rushing to finishing, imagining the sixty seconds being gobbled up like a Pac-Man game. Not even bothering to see if he was watching her through the open door, she tried, unsuccessfully, to kick off her shoes without unbuckling them. Being unable to do so, she had to hop on one leg, loosen the strap of each brown regulation leather t-bar sandal before stepping out of them.

"Thirty seconds left" The ugly man was standing near the doorway watching Tanya Whitfield undress. His hands were deep in his trouser pockets. Balancing herself first on one leg, then the other, she plucked off the white ankle socks. Standing, she looked at him. Her pretty face contorted itself briefly into an expression of pleading. Please, don't make me go on, she appeared to ask.

Arthur Barton looked at his charge. Barefoot, clad in only white brassiere and high-cut tight fitting white panties with tiny blue dots, the well-built female made a fetching site to behold. "Fifteen to go," he counted down.

For Tanya, the passing of every few seconds heralded a new stage of subservience to this hideous person. But what could she do? Having reached this far, there was no going back. In a last-ditch grasp at her rapidly vanishing modesty, she turned her back to him before unclipping and loosening her bra. Bending slightly forward, she allowed the garment to fall away. Grabbing it before it fell to the floor, she placed it on the hook next to the discarded school uniform. Arthur Barton, from his admittedly obscured view, could discern very little drooping of her ample breasts.

Her closing plea, "Please, do I have to take them off?" was rhetorical in the extreme She didn't even sound convincing to herself. All it elicited from Barton was a stern "just over five seconds, Whitfield!"

The point of total resignation to her fate, at least insofar as this particular situation pertained, had been reached. The 17 year-old, still with her back to him, slipped her thumbs into the waistband of the tight panties and, wiggling slightly to deftly, pulled the final item of clothing down and off her shapely legs. Quickly and carefully, she snapped up the tiny garment and deposited it too on a hook.

Tanya Whitfield was bare. She was utterly bare and ready to be disciplined.

Tanya had turned slightly so that, although she still had her back to him, she could see him over her right shoulder. The disciplinarian was presented with the uplifting view of the youngster's firm buttocks. He noted how the golden sun tan of her back, legs and a large area of her bottom contrasted with a light pinkish strip straddling either side of the crack. She had obviously recently been extending her exposure to the sun, he assumed reasonably.

Get in here," rapped Barton.

Hesitantly and with initial self-consciousness, the naked teenager stepped into the room. Deliberately avoiding eye contact with the elderly man whose gaze she could almost tangibly feel upon her unclothed person, presented herself in front of him. Instinctively, she initially placed both hands over her private area but then, realising the absolute absurdity of trying to maintain her last vestiges of modesty, she resignedly dropped her arms to her sides. She detected a sudden intake of breath from the watching tutor.

Arthur Barton, maintaining what he hoped was a reasonably high degree of professional decorum, ran his eyes over the wayward young female standing before him. From his point of view, the first time the pupil had to be completely nude was probably a defining moment for the entire discipline programme. The disciplinary effect was at its greatest because it served to drive home the extent to which that she or he, as pupil, was subordinate to the tutor.

Her firm 34s, their pink nipples aiming slightly upwards, revealed no break in her tan line. Indeed, Barton observed that the only pale area of her frontal anatomy lay at the bottom of her flat tummy, a good ten centimeters south of her delicate slit of a belly button. He allowed himself extensive gazing time at this unsunned portion down below. A thin strip of closely cropped dark hair, barely two fingers wide, which accentuated Tanya's prominent mons, extended a mere four centimeters or so northward. A thoroughly modern miss, he reasoned.

Her firm thighs and shapely calves bore testimony to some degree of regular physical exercise. That she could virtually feel the hideous man ogling her stark naked form, was of no import for Arthur Barton. From the moment she stepped through his front door, she had ceased to be your average schoolgirl. She was there for one reason alone; severe correction. Stripping his pupils bare, both literally and metaphorically, was part of their road to betterment. That she made an upliftingly aesthetic image was a small price for her guardian and school to pay, he reasoned. Indeed, he rationalised further, she should be the most grateful of all.

Progressing beyond her initial numbness, the bare schoolgirl allowed her senses to take in her immediate surroundings for the first time. The room was the same size as the others she had been shown. Like the "gym" it revealed a dearth of furniture. In fact, its single, most prominent furnishing was a large wooden table that occupied a major part of the area of the small room. Alongside the table was a solitary, high-backed chair, also wooden. Her eyes widened as she took in the assortment of implements in the corner. A bunch of bamboo canes, of varying thickness, stood, like a bundle of firewood. Quite a number of these were of the hooked-handle variety; the type she recalled Arthur Barton wielding with cutting regularity during his reign at Edgemeadow High. In addition to these conventional items of school discipline, Tanya's attention was also drawn to the leather belts and straps that had been draped over the end of the table.

This is what Barton lived for. He did not see what he did as in any way perverse. Enjoyable, definitely; perverted, most certainly not, Why would his services be in demand to the extent that he could be selective as to whom he dealt with had his bona fides not been considered to be honourable? He found it a challenge to change the behavioural traits of these delinquency-bound teenagers, male and female, to the extent that they became almost different people. They would be thankful to him in time, he rationalised; although they probably would never acknowledge the part he had played in their metamorphosis.

Selecting a cane from his "collection", the disciplinarian addressed his young charge. "Whitfield, you will receive most of, if not all your corporal punishment in this room" He flexed the thin rod as he spoke, bending it almost double. "You will place your hands on top of your head until you are told what position to assume," he ordered. Tanya, rightly, interpreted this as an immediate instruction as well as a general order. Obediently, she put her hands on her head, an action that served to lift her firm young breasts, emphasising these prominences even more. Barton noticed that the girl's nipples had become slightly elongated; not unduly so, but noticeable nonetheless. He always found it interesting to observe the unintentional responses a pupil displayed when in an unclothed state. He could write a book on that subject alone.

"This is not the cane with which I had intended to administer your full quota of ten strokes," he announced, wiggling the rod under the schoolgirl's nose. "This is what we call a 'light' cane," he explained, prodding the tip of it gently against her rib cage.

"You will still receive the benefit of the medium cane, don't worry," continued Barton coldly. Circling the nervous female, he openly perused her undressed form. "Eyes to the front!" he barked as she tried to follow his movement.

"No sign of any correction here," he commented sarcastically, running the end of the cane over her buttocks, tracing a path from the tanned left cheek, over the pale inner strip split by the dark crevasse, ending up at the suntanned right globe. "That is all going to change, isn't it," he added rhetorically.

Barton's pop-eyes noted how athletic the teenager's legs were. Below her firm backside were strong thighs and shapely calves. That she was an outdoor creature was confirmed by the contrast between her pink heels and soles and the golden brown of the rest of her feet and legs.

"You will now receive two cuts," he announced. "These will only count as a single stroke because of my using the light cane"

"That's unfair!" blurted Tanya. She had momentarily lost her intended composure. "Sorry, sir," she corrected herself, too late.

"Unfair, Whitfield?" Barton scolded her, pressing his ugly face close to hers. "Fairness doesn't come into your situation" He smacked the outside of her right thigh with the bamboo rod; more to emphasise his point than to impart any discomfort. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes... yes, I do," she offered softly.

"The purpose of this session is to introduce you to the concept of formal hidings and what will be expected of you when you receive a hiding from me" he explained. "Some of these requirements have already been explained to you but, for the sake of completeness, I will recap these as well"

The former Edgemeadow master cleared his throat. "As you are aware, you are to undress completely prior to entering the room. Hands on head from the moment of entry until advised otherwise. Strokes are to be counted aloud. One, sir, two, sir, one hundred, sir, as the case may be" He paused briefly, to allow these instructions to sink in. Continuing, he added matter-of-factly: "It goes without saying that I will not hesitate to repeat a stroke where I feel this is warranted"

The teenager watched, her apprehension rising, as Arthur Barton placed two rectangular blocks, which had been neatly secreted away behind a leg of the table, on the floor, about thirty centimeters apart. These were, in fact, outdoor paving bricks, similar to standard building bricks but smaller and smoother. She was then instructed to stand with a heel on each block, the balls of her feet on the carpet. Hesitantly, she complied. The wooden chair was drawn into a position some way in front of the nervous girl, the high back facing her.

"Take hold of the back of the chair, girl," ordered the strict master. "Keep your heels on the blocks" He watched as the poker-faced schoolgirl followed his instructions. A few moments of fine-tuning followed, during which the ugly man made various minor adjustments to the pre-caning posture of the girl.

Tanya tensed as she felt the hideous tutor's strangely smooth hands grasp, touch, brush her person as he went about readying her. He moved her feet on the blocks, ensured her legs were straight, not bent and her back horizontal. But her concerns no longer lay in the preservation of her long lost modesty; her immediate anxieties focussed solidly upon the impending caning she was about to receive. That she was completely bare and utterly exposed to this man assumed secondary importance to the bending seventeen year-old.

Barton tugged at the upper sleeve of his shirt; an almost subconscious gesture of adjustment to his own attire as he prepared to deliver what was undoubtedly the girl's first ever experience of corporal punishment. He surveyed the spectacle before him. In keeping with his tenet of using the pupil's undressed state as part of the punishment effect, Tanya Whitfield's exposure was, to all intent and purposes, complete. By placing her bare heels on the carefully spaced blocks, the tutor had ensured that her firm buttocks were not only pushed upwards but also apart. Everything of consequence was revealed; the full extent of her vaginal slit, the lips slightly parted to show further intimate pink treasures. The darkly pigmented ring of her anus peeped at Barton from above her genitals.

"You will remember to count, Whitfield," he reminded her. "You will remain bending until I instruct you otherwise," he added.

Her heart was in her mouth as she listened to his instructions. Instinctively, she tensed her buttocks in readiness for the unknown. She closed her eyes and waited.

Slowly and deliberately, the left arm of the tutor lifted. Then, in an almost scooping motion, the cane traversed an arc with a slight whistle. THWACK! Tanya flew forward, knocking the chair away from her. "Ooww! Shit!" she exclaimed as the intensely sharp, stinging pain encompassed her rear end. Straightening up, she began rubbing the affected area furiously. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Get back down, Whitfield!" shouted Arthur Barton cruelly as he pushed the chair back. "We haven't finished yet" He watched as the naked schoolgirl, despite her obvious distress, reassumed the required posture. He noted the thin pink welt across the lower part of her backside. "How many was that, now?" he asked sarcastically.

"One," she replied, sniffing.

"One, SIR," he corrected her. "Make that mistake again and I'll re-administer the stroke," he warned.

Struggling to contain her sobs, For what it was worth, Tanya shut her eyes and her mind tightly to the horror of her reality. The only problem was that, for a second time, the whistle and pain of Barton's cane brought her back to reality instantly. WHACK! This time, though, she handled the trauma with relatively more dignity and composure than she had the first time. She let out a coherent grunt and an "ouch!" as the bamboo scored its second line across the white, unsunned part of the girl's bare posterior. It stung like hell, again; but she remembered to appease the leering tutor. "Two, sir," she uttered, sniffing

"Two, but one... Nine to go" remarked the disciplinarian somewhat cryptically. "Nine at least," he added. Somehow, he reckoned, the brat - he considered Tanya Whitfield to be a brat supreme - would receive the 'benefit' of more than only ten cuts during her period of correction.

"Stand up straight," he commanded as he placed the cane on the table. Tanya complied to the best of her ability. Naked and sore, she struggled to understand why she had consented to being sent there. Could she have refused? Was there a way out, even now? Thoughts tumbled about inside her head. Her backside stung horribly, but she exercised valiant self-restraint by not rubbing that area of her anatomy. Don't give him any excuse, if he did need an excuse, to increase her punishment, she decreed to herself. On the other hand, if he was given the impression that the caning had not been effective enough there was the possibility that he could increase the severity with which he administered subsequent hidings.

The teary teenager was relieved of this dilemma of indecision by Barton's curt "Hands on your head, Whitfield" Without hesitation, she obeyed him. True to his modus operandi, he reinforced his authority at each juncture; never let the delinquent think that because they've been through unpleasantness that a time of relative laxness will ensue. Not that he needed to create any pretext, he seized on the necessity of having to evaluate his handiwork as an opportunity to literally press home his absolute authority over the youngster. Tanya tensed as she felt the hideous tutor's hands move over her bare behind, his fingers tracing the length of the raised welts caused by his cane; much the same way as a blind man would read Braille. Except that Arthur Barton was not blind; he could see everything. And touch all he had to. It was all part of his assigned task.

Then, giving the firm cheeks a brief, circular-motion rub with the palm of his podgy left hand, he assured her, cynically, "Don't worry, you won't be scarred. Sore, yes" Circling her, he positioned himself directly in front of her. With her hands on top of her head, her large breasts were consequently thrust up and outwards, almost obscenely. The nipples, he noticed, still revealed the slight elongation he had observed earlier.

"You won't, of course, be able to parade your bare backside to all and sundry in your typically disgusting way for some time," he declared with a sneer. "Unless, of course, you want to advertise the fact that you've been brought down to size at last," he added, sarcastically.

Utterly humiliated, the tears continued to flow down the teenager's face and she sobbed and sniffed intermittently. The discomfort of the hiding she had received was bad enough; and it promised to become even more severe. But having to be bare was the ultimate demoralisation. She was sure now that if she hadn't done those silly things and said those unnecessary things to her stepfather he would have, at least, made sure that she would not have had to be put through this additional humiliation.

And Barton had a knack of extracting every drop of humiliation from a pupil, male or female. Some would ascribe this talent to an inherently sadistic streak; he preferred to follow the tenet that the end justified the means. A teenager, devoid of all clothes with their private parts exposed totally and repeatedly, was more likely to make a serious attempt to mend their ways. That Tanya Whitfield was gorgeous made her enforced nudity all the more traumatic for the schoolgirl.

"Gym time, young lady," announced the man, surveying the teenager's athletic legs.

(To be continued)