A busy headmistress deals with a girl, but there’s a problem.
By Rob Burton
The headmistress glowered at her watch; that new school secretary to interview in half-an-hour and I’ve still got Lisa Cannon to attend to. Miss Price was a hard woman to please. She set herself high standards and expected the same of all her staff at the School where she had been headmistress for fifteen years. Today had been particularly taxing. For the second day running the new girl, Lisa Cannon, had deliberately flouted school rules by not turning up in the approved white blouse and skirt. Despite the fact that she was not a third year tomboy, but a sixth former, the stern unbending Miss Price had not the slightest compunctions about punishing her.
“Come into my study this instant, young lady!”
With butterflies already in her tummy, she timidly entered the Head’s inner sanctum. There she was obliged to perch precariously on a chair, vainly endeavouring to conceal glimpses of black stocking-tops while she was lectured relentlessly on ‘standards of dress’ and how she was expected to set an example to the younger pupils. After what seemed an interminable harangue, Miss Price ordered her to her feet.
“Raise your skirt. Just as I thought! Your choice of underwear is positively indecent. Does your mother know that you come to school in these preposterous, transparent briefs?”
“Yes miss,” she gulped appealingly, her doe-like eyes meeting her. “She wears the same sort, actually, miss.” Hoping that the last piece of information would somehow placate her. In this she was sadly mistaken.
“Turn around, wretched girl! Raise your skirt at the back!” She thundered. “Do as I say!” She barked mercilessly.
Obediently Lisa turned and, raising her tiny skirt, revealed black stocking-tops, taut white suspenders disappearing tantalisingly beneath a pair of extremely diaphanous red knickers. The magnificently swelling bottom cheeks, with the tight ‘v’ of the gusset disappearing between her nether cleft were enough to melt the heart of anyone, save the merciless Headmistress! The aesthetic appeal of the derriere clearly escaped her.
“I have an unpleasant task before me. You have failed to conform to standards of dress and are about to be punished. A short, sharp lesson is what you need, young lady. I just can’t have you parading about my school in that disgraceful attire! As you will by now have realised,” the Headmistress boomed, warming to her theme. “I am a firm believer in corporal punishment for females, as I shall now demonstrate,” and seating herself on a plain wooden chair, she drew the trembling girl down across her lap until her hands and long, flaxen hair were touching the floor.
“Oh no, please! Oh my God!” But all her mumbled protestations were in vain.
“Silence, girl! This humiliating posture I’m making you adopt is all part of the punishment, and if it does nothing else it will certainly bring home to you the absurd inadequacy of the costume you are wearing.”
To underline the statement, she delivered a resounding “SMACK”! to the mini-skirt that barely covered the behind. She uttered an agonised yelp, more out of surprise than pain, her long, black-stockinged legs trailed disconsolately on the floor; white expanse of thigh gleamed; her tiny red panties peeped out from beneath the raised skirt.
Slowly, almost ceremonially, Miss Price completed, with her hand, the skirt’s ascent. The delectable bottom swelled out sensuously below her waist. Those knickers were indeed pathetically inadequate, they concealed hardly anything. With the left hand holding the skirt up to her waist, she slowly raised her other hand again and brought it down smartly, on the broad expanse of her twin cheeks. Again more yelps, but this time in genuine pain brought home sharply to the girl the unpleasant reality of her predicament.
Each point of contact left a reddening, blotchy mark on the plump white flesh. Four more strokes on the right buttock, each in quick succession. Result; a furiously blushing all-over redness. The yelps increased in urgency until they were howls. In vain she gritted her teeth; in vain she clenched her fists. The pain was swallowing her up like a tidal wave.
Then Miss Price switched to the virgin territory of her left cheek. A little more difficult this, as it was pressed fairly tightly against her side. However, with deft manipulation she soon found her target. Soon there was little to choose between the redness of either cheek.
“You’ll not want to sit down for a while after I’ve finished with you, young lady!”
The admonishments were all but drowned in the bedlam of smacking and wailings. For the next few minutes she concentrated on smacking the lower, more vulnerable area of her bottom, down to the tops of her thighs. Every inch received due attention.
After what seemed an eternity of spanks, her punishment ceased. Sobbing uncontrollably she stumbled off the headmistress’s lap and stood unashamedly rubbing her scarlet bottom. But her punishment was not yet over.
“Now remove that disgraceful undergarment and hand it to me.” She commanded.
When she had eased the offending knickers down to her ankles, she gingerly stepped out of them, trying at the same time to hold down her skirt. Then, Miss Price gathered up the crumpled knickers and placed them in the cupboard, beside other confiscated trophies. The next task involved a short journey to the clothing room from where she returned, as directed, with a pair of regulation navy-blue knickers. She was then told to put them on, which she did with the greatest difficulty, since they were at least two sizes too small for her well-rounded bottom, and the roughness of the material did nothing to ease her stinging flesh.
At that precise moment a knock was heard and, without waiting for an answer, the door opened slightly, a head thrust itself around the door in amazement, when Miss Price roared: “Get out, whoever you are! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“I came to tell you that your visitor for the post of school secretary has arrived early, but I can see you’re already acquainted?”
Caroline McBride left the office thirty minutes later with a sore bottom, an apology and a job. Not exactly what she would have wanted but at least she got what she came for. She also planned a shopping trip before starting next Monday!