Continuing the stories of The Girls of St Mary’s

Three stories by Frances Stephenson with kind permission of Penny Morton

Monday Break in the Prefects Common Room and there was the usual few girls dressed in their games shorts awaiting the slipper. Amongst them, surprise, surprise, was Charlotte Miller. Vicky, the Head Girl, was present.

“Not you again Charlotte,” she exclaimed. “Anybody would think you enjoyed having the slipper; you seem to be here so often.”

A reply was obviously needed. “No, of course I don’t enjoy it, Vicky,” said Charlotte. “But I seem to be caught more than others.”

“Don’t forget that I am authorised to use the cane and, if you carry on like this, you will be in line for a dose.”

“Yes Vicky, I will try and keep out of trouble,” said Charlotte quietly.

Zoe had again volunteered to slipper the miscreants that morning and all had received smarting bottoms and had returned to change back into their normal everyday clothes. It left only Charlotte to be dealt with.

“How many is she getting?” Asked Vicky.

“I thought eight,” said Zoe. “She skipped PT and was seen making her way, by an ‘out of bounds’ route towards the Town, also out of bounds. Two and probably three offences.”

“Anything to say, Charlotte?” Asked Vicky.

“No, Vicky,” responded Charlotte.

“Well at least we won’t have to cope with lying,” said Vicky. “Maybe I should increase the number of strokes to ten?” Zoe looked on eagerly; she had never given more than eight.

“No, NO,” said Charlotte vehemently and in some distress. “You are only allowed to give us eight strokes.”

“Charlotte, I can give up to 12 strokes with the Headmistress’s permission. She would certainly give it in your case,” retorted Vicky.

“But you haven’t got permission,” persisted Charlotte, unwisely.

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, and don’t argue with me,” rasped Vicky. “Go ahead with the eight strokes, Zoe, and Charlotte,” she said menacingly. “Report to my study tonight at nine dressed as you are now and we can discuss your rudeness and general attitude.”

Punctually at 9pm, Charlotte stood before Vicky’s desk in her games kit. Not very many girls could manage to look attractive in this unflattering uniform, but Charlotte looked really good, her great figure and soft skin together with an attractive and well-shaped bottom and really good legs combined to make her into a very desirable young woman. She was, however, very much on the defensive tonight.

Vicky resolved to be calm and firm. “First, let’s go over the St Mary’s ground rules regarding Head Girl and the prefects’ corporal punishment regime. Eight strokes of the slipper are the maximum but I can authorise up to 12. I enter it in my weekly report to Miss Howarth. Bare bottom spankings are only given by the Head. I am also allowed to cane naughty girls, with permission. I keep a log of these punishments which again goes to Miss Howarth once per week. More strokes of the cane are allowed but special permission is needed and it is also needed if a miscreant needs more than one dose per week. Is that perfectly clear?”

“So you don’t have ‘carte blanche’ to cane us as and when you feel like it?” Said Charlotte arrogantly.

“No, I don’t Charlotte,” said Vicky becoming irritated. “But I would remind you that the severity of the caning is left to me, as is the choice of cane. I’ll show you.”

With that, she produced a thin, very swishy cane, an evil, more rigid yellow one and a black one which seemed the severest of the three.

“Take care that I don’t use the black one on you,” said Vicky.

Charlotte remained seemingly unimpressed by the canes and their indicated severity.

“Just try and behave, Charlotte,” said Vicky. “Or you will be caned sooner than you think. Now let’s get on with the business in hand. Bend over the chair.”

“But Vicky, my bottom is still sore from Zoe’s spanking this morning,” pleaded Charlotte.

“Bad luck,” said Vicky. “Just bend over, right over, please.”

The games shorts strained as Charlotte’s delectable bottom strove to reach the required position.

Crash!

The first stroke landed on Charlotte’s already pink bottom and left its customary sharp sting.

Vicky was not going to let her off lightly. She proceeded to spank Charlotte’s appealing bottom with much energy and some venom. Charlotte cried out; she had been determined to remain silent and not let Vicky have the satisfaction of hearing her voice her pain but it was not to be. She was soon made to squeal and squeal again as the experienced slipper did its work. There really was no let up and she had to endure the full eight strokes, forcefully delivered, before Vicky was through.

“That’s you spanked,” said Vicky, and Charlotte slowly unlocked herself from the uncomfortable bending over position. She was crying with pain having endured a full 16 strokes that day.

“You can get changed and go to bed now Charlotte,” said Vicky. “The prefects and I will be keeping a close eye on you so you had better watch out!”

Charlotte walked stiffly to the door. “Thank you for spanking me, Vicky,” she remembered to say before leaving the room.

2) JUST PLAIN BAD LUCK

Charlotte Miller was just plain bored. Bored with repetitive school work. Bored with piffling Rules and the seemingly vindictive endless round of punishments. She was young and bursting with health and she wanted a bit of fun. It was Saturday afternoon at St Mary’s; games had finished and the girls were expected to use the next three hours in catching up on school work, writing letters and other studious activities known as ‘Private Study’. Sport was also high on the Agenda.

‘Huh,’ thought Charlotte; who, with commendable foresight, had arranged to see her boyfriend at the far end of Carrick Wood which covered a large area and was within walking distance of the school.

Peter, her boyfriend, was a boarder at St Marks, which was about ten miles away. He kept an old motorbike in a local farmer’s barn and was thus relatively mobile. Charlotte set off with a spring in her step, looking forward to a long and satisfying snog with Peter, maybe more! He was getting awfully keen!

She had been skirting around the wood, but knew from previous experience that if she followed this path for a short distance, cutting through the wood itself, it would shorten the distance to her goal.

Excited that the meeting was becoming ever closer, she rounded a corner and came face to face with Miss Howarth and her assistant, Jessica. Both were dressed for walking and enjoying the good weather and the sounds and smells of the woodland.

“Well, well,” said Miss Howarth. “Charlotte Miller, and out of bounds, yet again. We are on our way back to the school, please join us.” This was a firm command although delivered pleasantly.

Poor Charlotte was in a quandary. What on earth had happened? A minute or so later and she would have missed the pair of them. Now she was for it and no mistake. Caught by the dreaded Miss Howarth! Of all people, how could this be?

Her thoughts turned briefly to Peter, waiting patiently, she hoped! She dragged her thoughts back to the immediate present.

Miss Howarth and Jessica were admiring a crop of wild flowers. Charlotte thought that without her usual stern expression Miss Howarth could almost look pretty as her young face softened. The walk continued until the School came into sight. Jessica excused herself as she needed to check something on her car, leaving Charlotte and Miss Howarth to carry on together.

“Charlotte,” said Miss Howarth. “I remember that your name seems to appear in the Punishment Book with great regularity. This state of affairs cannot persist, young lady. Sooner or later, probably sooner, you will be sent to me for a caning. I believe that I have a certain reputation as being able to spank naughty bottoms using the slipper very hard indeed.”

“Let me tell you that I am an enthusiastic golfer and squash player. My right arm is in good shape and I wield the cane hard and with some enthusiasm! I would mend your ways unless you want a very sore bottom. Now, regarding your latest ‘Out of Bounds’ escapade, the punishment will be more severe than usual but please remember that previous punishments do not seem to have had any effect on you. Time to up the ante.”

“You will go and find Vicky and request a meeting with her in her study this evening. Tell her you have seen me. That should ensure she should be able to fit you in! You will ask her to give you a good caning. Please use the word ‘good’; Vicky will know what I mean. I will leave the number of strokes and their severity to her. I will check in the daily punishment book to see that you have been dealt with. Off you go now.”

Her heart in her mouth and butterflies in her stomach, she sped off. Charlie called Liz, her best friend.

“Can’t stop,” said Charlotte. “I must find Vicky.”

“In her study, I think,” said Liz. “Why?”

“I’ve just been caught out of bounds by Miss Howarth herself, no less.”

“Wow,” said Liz. “It looks as though you are really for it this time.”

Charlotte found her way to Vicky’s study, knocked on the door and, when invited, went in and stood in front of Vicky’s desk. “Please Vicky, I have been caught out of bounds and request you to give me a caning this evening. I was caught by Miss Howarth herself and she said that I was to specifically request a “good caning” from you but that she would leave the severity and the number of strokes to you. Before you make your award please bear in mind that I have been punished several times for being out of bounds as well as numerous other offences.”

Getting over her initial surprise at this unexpected turn of events, Vicky said: “Well Charlotte, I cannot say that I am altogether surprised; slipperings seem to have little effect on you so let’s see what a sharp caning can do. Return here at 9pm and don’t be late! Usual dress; Gym shorts and no knickers and I’ll see if I can really make you squeal. I will let you know how many strokes I will award when you return.”

Charlotte returned at 9 pm and stood in front of Vicky.

“Well Charlotte, you are here to receive your caning. I have decided to award you six sharp strokes of the cane. I feel that it is important for you to mend your ways so let’s see if I can do my bit to help that process on its way.”

Charlotte waited nervously; she was mindful of Vicky’s earlier comment that she would make Charlotte ‘squeal’ which made her very apprehensive indeed.

“Bend over the chair and let’s get started.”

Charlotte did as she was instructed.

“Charlotte, I have told you before; tighter than that and push your bottom well out towards me, make a hollow in your back, that’s better.”

Charlotte’s bottom was now correctly presented, beautifully round and vulnerable. Vicky selected one of her yellow canes, flexing it in her hands, it was firm yet whippy. ‘This will make her jump,’ she thought as she lined up the first stroke; it landed with a satisfying ‘thwick’ causing Charlotte to moan and gasp.

Number two was delivered and brought a louder reaction, somewhere between a gasp and an outright cry. Number three was a drawn out cry and so very nearly a squeal.

Vicky was enjoying herself. She enjoyed the power, and wielding such a splendid instrument of pain and at such a delectable target. She also knew that Miss Howarth would thoroughly approve and that Vicky herself was under some scrutiny. She resolved to make the last three even harder and to make sure that Charlotte squealed at every one.

Charlotte was not enjoying herself, not one little bit! Vicky was putting some effort into ensuring that this caning was very painful and that Charlotte would remember it for some time. She was succeeding.

The next two were delivered with more of Vicky’s shoulder behind it, together with a small twist of the hips. ‘Thwack’, ‘Thwack’. These two delivered their painful message.

Charlotte loudly squealed at each one and was sobbing and gasping. Vicky lined up the last stroke, it would be a humdinger, she thought. She slashed in an even harder stroke right in the centre of Charlotte’s well-thrashed bottom and she was rewarded with a howl from Charlotte whose hands left the chair to which she had been so desperately clasping and went to her agonised bottom, clutching it frantically.

“Charlotte, you know the rules,” said Vicky. “Keep in place with your bottom correctly presented or you get extra strokes.”

“Please, please Vicky,” cried a distraught Charlotte. “Please no more.”

“Get you hands away this instant or there will be two extra,” said Vicky, thoroughly enjoying herself.

Charlotte managed to get her hands back and grasp the legs of the chair.

“Don’t forget to present your bottom correctly,” advised Vicky.

Charlotte made the necessary adjustments. The extra stroke arrived, making Charlotte squeal louder than ever, but she managed to maintain control.

“That’s you finished,” said Vicky. “You may get up now.”

Charlotte gently prised herself up from the position she had forced her body to adopt. Her bottom was as sore as anything, hot and tight with the individual cane marks adding their throbbing voice to the general pain.

“Well Charlotte, how did you find my thrashing? Do you think it will help you to be a better and more cooperative girl in future?”

“Yes Vicky, thank you for the sound thrashing you have given me,” said a tearful Charlotte. “I will try to be a better girl in future.”

“I hope, for your sake, you succeed,” said Vicky. “Off you go now.”

Charlotte walked, stiffly, out of Vicky’s study to find her best friend Liz waiting for her.

“Oh you poor darling,” said Liz sympathetically. “How is your poor, poor bottom? Come with me. I have some soothing cream I will put on for you.”

Supported by Liz, Charlotte made her way, painfully, to their dormitory where Liz gently removed Charlotte’s skirt and her knickers.

“Gosh, that looks bloody sore,” exclaimed Liz, looking at Charlotte’s red bottom with seven welts clearly visible and going darker in the centre. Bruising would soon show. Liz gently applied the cold cream which soothed the punished bottom. I have read that Arnica cream is also good for bruising. I’ve got some. OK if I use it?”

“Anything that you think might help,” whispered Charlotte.

Part 3.

Charlotte Miller and Liz Cooper were both pupils, or inmates, as they liked to call themselves, at St Mary’s School for Girls. Both girls were in the lower sixth and looked forward to the time when they would be free of the constraints of school life.

Charlotte had formed a friendship with Peter Dickinson during the holidays and the two saw each other frequently and were delighted to learn that their respective schools were no more than five miles apart.

“That’s really great,” said Charlie. “There should be scope for us seeing each other. It may be limited but still worth it.”

Peter was equally enthusiastic. “I’ve got an old second-hand motor bike which I keep in a local farmer’s barn which should help us get about,” he said.

“Fabulous,” said Charlie. “We can do all the arranging by email. Do you want to bring a friend? Do you want to bring a friend, because I would like to include my best friend Liz Cooper. She’s great fun and very pretty.”

“Great,” responded Peter. “My best friend, Ed Winterton, would, I am sure, be only too pleased to meet a pretty girl. We could have a picnic by the lake in Clancy Wood and see what develops.”

The email duly arrived in Charlie’s postbox suggesting a meeting at midnight on Thursday. They would bring something mild to drink and maybe some sandwiches to stave off pangs of hunger. The inference was plain; a serious snogging session was to be top of the menu.

Clad in dark tops and jeans, the two girls made their way out of School and along one of the paths which led to the ‘B’ road which served to link two villages. There was a pub named ‘The Jackdaw’ close by and, sure enough, there were Peter and Ed.

Greetings were exchanged and Peter suggested they make a move, which they did, arriving at the lake some 15 minutes later. They soon found a suitable spot and opened two bottles of beer which they shared between themselves. Charlie and Peter moved a short distance away and proceeded to lock onto each other, each having been deprived of the company of the opposite sex for some weeks. Ed and Liz, paying lip service to introductory niceties quickly followed suit.

Time passed only too quickly. Peter called over: “I say you two, we really should think about calling this delightful session to an end. It’s just gone 3 am and it will be nearly 4am before we are all back in our lonely beds.”

After 5 minutes they set off, dropping the girls off at ‘The Jackdaw’ first and giving them a juicy goodnight snog. The girls made their way back the way they had come. They were just about to climb the back stairs to their dormitory when the light came on.

“And about time too,” rasped Dawn Wareham, their House Parent. “What ever have you been up to? Come with me, now.”

The two girls dejectedly followed Dawn along the corridor to her study.

“Now let’s have a good look at the pair of you,” she said, noting the tousled hair and dishevelled appearance. “Take off your clothes, and let me have a closer look.”

Neither girl had a chance to check herself over after the strenuous petting session with the boys. Off came their dark tops and with it some grass, leaves and the general detritus associated with fields and woodland.

“Oh really,” said Dawn sarcastically. “Part of the New Look, is it?”

The girls peeled their jeans off, revealing more foliage and, horror on horrors, the fact that Charlie was not wearing any knickers! Both girls had a number of love bites, Liz having two on her left breast. All in all, the girls presented a picture which indicated their amorous activities of the previous few hours.

“Off to bed with you,” said Dawn. “I have noted all the clues associated with a heavy petting session and will report them to Miss Howarth tomorrow. You may be sure she will send for you!”

The girls went to sleep quite quickly but woke up full of trepidation and dread, knowing that there would be full retribution for their only too brief interlude. Both had thoroughly enjoyed their session with the boys but were much more concentrated on their immediate problem.

“Oh Charlie, that dreadful Miss Howarth is really going to punish us,” said Liz. “She has a fearsome reputation with the slipper. Do you think she will use it on us?”

“I doubt it,” said Charlie. “She will, in all probability, cane us.”

“Oh no!” Gasped Liz. “My poor, poor bottom, and yours too, darling,” she said to Charlie.

The summons duly came at 2pm and they dejectedly made their way to Miss Howarth’s study to be met by Jessica Morgan, Miss Howarth’s pretty young Assistant Secretary. She looked kind and sympathetic. She knocked on the study door and, having received permission, opened it.

“Miss Miller and Miss Cooper to see you, Ma’am.” She said.

“Come in you two,” said the cold voice of St Mary’s youthful disciplinary mistress. “Stand there.” She indicated the front of her desk. “I think you were seeing Peter Dickinson and his friend Edward Winterton last night. Am I right? Answer me!”

The girls were aghast. How did she know?

“Answer me, or the punishment I am going to award you will be more severe.”

Both girls remained silent.

“Your silence is noted,” the headmistress said. “You might like to know there was a small fire at St Mark’s (Peter and Ed’s school) last night. Nothing serious, but two senior boys were unaccounted for. The Headmaster phoned me this morning as a bit of a shot in the dark, but things seemed to tie in with you two The fact that one of the boys lives near Charlotte Miller seems to stretch coincidence a little too far. It was you two who were with these two boys, weren’t you?”

Faced with all this evidence, the girls could only shamefacedly agree.

“Yes, Miss Howarth,” they both said quietly. “We are both very, very sorry.”

“Dawn Wareham said there was much circumstantial evidence that some, if not all, of your clothing had been removed and that there was evidence of some sexual activity. Jessica,” She called out.

“Two glasses of water please. I want to see you take a precautionary ‘Morning After’ pill and see Matron if a follow up is needed.”

Both girls swallowed the proffered pill.

“I would tell you that both boys have been well caned for a number of reasons, but they did not let on that they had seen you two. Now, that takes care of all the technical aspects of last night’s foray. It only remains for me to punish the pair of you. You have no doubt heard that I deliver a hard slippering. I firmly believe that slipperings and canings should be given as hard as one can, thus there is no need to give nine strokes or even more when one has delivered six of the very best on to the bottoms of naughty girls. Four strokes forcefully delivered is usually quite adequate enough. You have broken many rules and I will therefore give you six strokes on your bare bottoms. Now go and return here at 3.45, and report to Miss Morgan who will prepare you. It will hurt a great deal but it will be no less than you deserve!”

The two girls left, hardly acknowledging the sympathetic look from Jessica Morgan.

“This can’t be happening to us, Charlie,” said a plainly scared Liz, reaching out and holding her friend’s hand.

“I am afraid it is, darling,” replied her friend. “We are going to have very sore bottoms in less than two bloody hours and there is nothing, but nothing, we can do about it.” She gave Liz a cuddle.

Both girls were shaking, scared at the thought of their coming ordeal and, frightened at the thought of the strict Miss Howarth administering their punishments, both unconsciously rubbed their bottoms.

The time passed all too quickly and they knocked on Jessica Morgan’s door and were ushered in. Jessica seemed almost as nervous as they were and in fact there was only five years in age between them.

“Please take off your skirts,” she said. “And tuck your blouses well up. Miss Howarth will be annoyed if anything gets in the way of her caning, so please make sure. Have you decided who will go first?”

They hadn’t, but Liz, with a pleading glance at Charlotte, indicated that she should go first.

“Charlotte Miller to see you, Ma’am,” announced Jessica. Unfortunately, she had forgotten the cane and so she returned hastily to the outer office and picked up a wicked looking yellow cane, firm but with some give in it. She placed it on Miss Howarth’s desk.

‘Oh God,’ thought Charlie. ‘That looks a real swine of a cane.’

“Miss Morgan, see that she is properly prepared please.”

Jessica sweetly asked Charlie to join her by a conveniently placed chair.

“Stand here, Charlotte,” she said, and then proceeded to lower Charlie’s knickers to her ankles. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she took them right off. “Bend over the back with your head well down, legs about one foot apart and stretch your hand out to grasp the chair legs as low as you can. Hold on tight this will be very painful but we want it over as soon as possible, don’t we?”

Charlotte felt both vulnerable and secure as she hung on like grim death. She heard Miss Howarth pick up the cane and take up position behind her.

“Stay in position, Charlotte,” said the Headmistress. “Get up or try to avoid the cane and you will get extra. Here it comes.”

Miss Howarth slashed the first stroke across Charlie’s bottom; she gave it plenty of swing with her shoulder behind it and plenty of wrist to finish it off. The effect was instantaneous. An agonising stripe of pure pain branded itself on Charlotte’s bottom.

“OH NO, OH NOOOO,” she cried. “ARGH, ARGH,” as she tried to contain the pain.

The second stroke arrived all too soon and imprinted itself just below the first stripe. Miss Howarth was deadly accurate; the pain was beyond belief. Charlotte cried out unable to contain herself.

‘Hell, four to go,’ she thought. Her bottom was hot and sore and the strokes already throbbing.

Number three arrived accurately above the first stroke and made parallel lines of three Could it be any more painful than the first two? Yes it could! And she squealed and squealed again, now breathing heavily she struggled with the pain.

She concentrated on keeping her hands and feet in place; the spectre of an extra hiding becoming more more real by the moment. Number four put her resolve to some test as it slashed in, just below the first stroke; again she cried out, louder this time. Her head was close to the seat of the chair and she tried to obtain some relief by banging her head on the seat. It didn’t help.

She yelped as the fifth stroke again raised the pain stakes as it landed on her overhang; she tried writhing her hips in an effort to cope with these painful and stinging strokes.

The last stroke was a true humdinger and landed on her crease between her bottom and her legs. This was the most painful yet and Charlie squealed loudly, several times, but she still had control, but only just. She had escaped penalty strokes. Her bottom was very sore indeed and, worse, it was throbbing. Every stroke seemed to be a separate focus of pain, as indeed it was!

Jessica came and gradually helped Charlie to her feet. It was difficult as Charlie had locked herself into the caning position and was trembling so much with pain and reaction. She gently explored her bottom which was so wealed it felt as though it belonged to someone else. The excruciating pain was real enough though. She hesitantly thanked Miss Howarth for her caning and was rewarded by a brief smile and a nod of the head.

She was then helped from the room by Jessica who left her standing by the desk before she turned to Liz. Charlie managed a brief smile for Liz’s benefit before Jessica took her in to receive her thrashing.

Liz was more vocal than Charlie. There could be no doubt whatsoever that both girls had received a severe thrashing. It was over quite soon and a red-faced Liz appeared in the doorway.

A much recovered Charlie immediately went to her assistance, giving her a cuddle and whispering reassuring words to her and watching her cope with the pain.

At last both girls felt able to think about being on their way. Their immediate reaction was to put their skirts on but leave their knickers off. This did not prove to be a good plan as the skirt material rubbed against their sore bottoms, so they both very carefully indeed eased their knickers on to their bottoms.

“I think we might live, Liz,” ventured Charlotte. She received a watery smile in return.

They went to ask Matron if they could have some soothing cold cream.

Meanwhile, Miss Howarth had called Jessica in to see her.

“You were witness to a good caning. How did you find it?”

“You certainly thrashed those two girls very well, Ma’am,” said Jessica, looking adoringly at the stern mistress.

“Jessica, I have tried to impress on you the importance of adhering to a routine in these matters.” Helen snapped. “The cane is the central part of this ritual and seeing it strikes fear into the recipient. You forgot to bring it in and then had to go and get it. I am not pleased and will punish you. Go and lock the outer office door and come back here, quickly now.”

Jess scampered off, soon to return. “I am so sorry to have made that mistake,” she said. “Please punish me as I deserve.”

“Take your skirt off and bend over the chair exactly like you instructed the two girls.”

Jess hastened to obey, displaying a charming pair of pink knickers.

“Those must come down,” instructed the stern young mistress.

Jess waited, hoping it would not be the cane, but in a strange way she rather hoped that it would be.

Crash!

No, it was the slipper, laid on with Helen’s customary energy. Eight times the slipper landed, causing Jess to squeal and whimper and leaving her bottom red and blotchy. It would certainly bruise later. She got to her feet and quietly and prettily thanked the strict mistress. Gathering up her knickers, she made good her exit.

“Make no mistake, Jess, you will be on the receiving end of a good thrashing in the not too distant future, so make sure you behave,” said Helen.

“Yes Ma’am, and thank you ma’am. I am sure you will and that I will deserve it,” whispered Jessica.

The End

© Frances Stephenson 2013