Learning the Rules

A new teacher ignores the headmistress at her peril.

By Samantha (a new writer to us)

I was twenty-two years old when I got a job as a teacher at St Edith’s. I drove into the school in my little Toyota the day before teaching started. There were already some girls arriving in nice cars. I parked outside the main building and found my way to the headmistress’s office. I knocked on the door which was already half open. The secretary was a slim blonde young woman who greeted me cheerfully.

“Miss Bain isn’t it? I’m glad you’re early. She wants to talk to you. You can go right in.”

Mrs Morgan was a tall attractive woman with short dark hair, probably in her early thirties. She stood as I entered and came round the desk holding out her hand and grasping mine with a firm shake.

“Have a seat. I wanted to talk to you to explain what’s happened. As you know you are to be assistant housemistress of Pankhurst house. The present house mistress, Elizabeth Walters, will not be back for several weeks as she is recovering from surgery, so you will have to take over. I shall expect you to ask me if you have any problems, which are more or less inevitable.

“St Edith’s is one of the last schools where corporal punishment is allowed, and indeed expected by the parents. The girls here are all having trouble working to their potential, not because they are stupid, far from it, but because they are lazy, and have had bad work habits for years. They all hope to get into university, but are unlikely to do it. We are usually able to change that. Their parents pay a lot of money for this. We have small classes, some as small as four pupils. This helps, but not unless the girls are prepared to work.

“If they do not work they are punished. They will also be punished if there are disciplinary problems as there are often are with teenage girls full of raging hormones. Some of them are pretty defiant. We use the cane here, often on the bare bottom. I believe you went to a school where caning was allowed. May I ask have you been caned yourself?”

I felt myself blushing. “Yes I have, Mrs Morgan, I wasn’t particularly well behaved in my teens.”

You’re not long out of them now, so I suppose you can remember what it feels like. How many times?

“Probably five or six.”

“What’s the greatest number of strokes you ever had?”

I hesitated, wondering whether to lie. “It was twelve, twice actually.”

She smiled. “Was it bare?”

“Yes. I behaved a bit better after that. I was actually head girl and had to use the cane sometimes.”

“Good, you know what it’s like from both sides then. I’d like you to come and observe a couple of times before you start using the cane yourself. You can always refer the miscreants to me until I decide you’re competent.”

That evening I introduced myself at evening prayers and told the girls what I expected. They looked a cheerful bunch, but I didn’t think they were listening to me very hard. Well we would have to see.

I finished up with: “Don’t think that because I am new that I will be afraid to use the cane. You are all here to work not fool around, and I will do my very best to see that you do, even if it means some sore bottoms.”

Some of them looked a bit anxious, but most didn’t react. I could see that I would have to keep my eyes and ears open. I went up to the housemistress’s study, leaving the door open. The school porter had delivered a small bundle of canes that afternoon and I searched through them to select those which suited me best. There was one extra-long and thicker than the rest. I bent it between my hands and it was surprisingly flexible. I swished it through the air several times, whacking it into a cushion with a satisfactory crack. It made an ominous humming sound as it went through the air. A lissom cane for the bottoms of misbehaving lasses. I decided this one should be kept for special occasions.

I selected two more for ordinary use. Both could be bent double and I could imagine them wrapping round the backsides of those receiving a well deserved caning. I was not one of those who believed that the caning hurt the giver more than the receiver. There were three very slim canes which swished through the air in a pleasing way. They would sting like fire but only hurt for a moment. I hung my selections on a row of hooks and stored the rest in a cupboard.

I settled down going through the contents of the desk, and found a copy of the school rules, and the punishment book. A filing cabinet contained the file on each girl. The bell for bedtime rang and for the next half hour there was a lot of noise, then suddenly silence. I was just thinking of going to bed myself when I heard the sound of footsteps overhead, and giggling, definite giggling. I decided to wait to see what would happen, I was prepared to give a little leeway on the first day.

There was a clunk and more giggles coming from directly overhead. The school rule was no talking after lights out and the punishment book had shown that canings for this offence were quite common. I selected two of the thin canes and crept upstairs. The sound was coming from a four bedded room, and there was a dim light under the door. I flung the door open and switched on the light. Four girls were sitting on the floor dressed in night clothes which were definitely not regulation.

Lynne Connor was dressed in a semi-transparent pink nightdress which would have come about half way down the thighs. She had a wine glass half way to her lips. Her long blonde hair framed a pretty but surprised face. Her long legs were not covered by her nightdress which had ridden up to her hips. There was an empty wine bottle on the floor and another had already been sampled. The room was full of tobacco smoke and all four had cigarettes.

“Where did you get the wine?” I looked at the label. It was expensive Chateauneuf-du-pape.

Lynne swallowed. “I got it from home. It was my eighteenth birthday yesterday. We all had birthdays during the hols, so I thought we could celebrate them now.”

‘And now you’re going to get a birthday spanking,’ I thought, but didn’t say.

I took in the scene. I was not much different from what I had done myself a few years ago, and been caned for. Now I would have to deal with the next generation.

“This is disgraceful,” I said crunching out the words as threateningly as possible. “You are drinking and smoking, you are out of bed after lights out and you are all wearing disgraceful night wear.”

I let the words sink in. They had seen my canes and were looking resigned. I made up my mind.

“I am going to cane you all now for being out of bed. I will have to report you to the head for the drinking and smoking. Lynne you’re first. Over here, bend over and touch your toes.”

She was a pretty slim girl and she knew what was expected. As she bent, the brief skirt of her disgracefully revealing nightie slid up uncovering most of her body and wrapping itself round her head. Before I had a chance to say anything she stood again pulled her nightie off and flung it on her bed.

“Sorry, Miss Bain, but I didn’t want it over my head.”

Well I certainly didn’t mind.

She bent over again without being told, I tapped her bottom with my slim cane and whipped in the first stroke. I am a squash player and she certainly felt it, letting out a gasp as the hissing cane wrapped itself round her pretty bottom. I paused for a moment waiting for the pink horizontal line to appear. I had never caned a girl on the bare before and was fascinated by the appearance of the mark. It was actually a double line and the colour changed from pink to red to purple. I went on steadily whipping the cane in five more times while she went from gasping to little cries. She was weeping by the time I had finished. Her bottom had six purple stripes nicely spaced except for one which was off line. She had taken the caning well. I had caned her hard and I knew from experience how much the thin cane would sting.

“Stand up girl.”

She stood and rubbed her bottom and gave me a grin although she still had tears running down her face.

“Go and stand over there.”

“Amanda, you’re the next.”

Amanda Clarke was a tall brunette with long hair, wearing baby doll pyjamas. She was looking pretty apprehensive but she stripped off the knickers of her baby dolls without being told, stepped over and bent down holding onto her ankles. I tapped her bottom taking aim and she flinched. I drew back the cane and cracked in the first stroke. She winced but made no sound. I paused, waiting for the pink line to appear, then gave her the second, and her face screwed up with pain. I gave her a full swing for the third and the supple cane hissed through the air hitting her bottom with a satisfying crack right over the second mark. She let out a gasp and tears began to trickle down her face. I aimed the fourth a bit lower and she gasped again and the tears flowed harder. I decided not to ease up and the fifth hit below the fold of her buttock in what I knew was the most tender place. She yelled and jumped up clasping her bottom, looked at me pleadingly and bent reluctantly over to finish her punishment. The sixth was a corker in the middle of her bottom and this time she yelped but held tightly onto her ankles before I told her to stand.

Lynne was grinning at her friend’s performance. Her own pain was now forgotten, as was usual with the thin cane.

Anthea James stepped forward, pushed by her friend, but determined not to be anything but blasé about the whole affair, pulled her knee length nightie up to her waist and bent over. Her bottom showed signs of a recent caning. I counted eight strokes.

“You had the cane already today?”

“Yes miss, from my dad. Mum made him for stealing from her purse.”

“Very well. I thoroughly approve. This caning will not be any less because of what happened earlier.”

I proceeded to cane her bare bottom hard, making the slim Malacca wrap round both soft globes with each stroke. She took it silently for the first four strokes then started to sob and stood up.

“Please miss, I can’t take any more.”

“You are going to have to. There are only two to go and you thoroughly deserve every stroke. If you like I can send you to the head instead.”

She said nothing but bent over again and I gave her two whizzers which made her yelp each time.

“Very well, you may stand up.” I had left her bending for several seconds, wondering whether she was to get extra strokes for standing up.

Alicia Singh stood waiting, I nodded to her. She was looking very worried, having seen what I did to her three friends, but decided there was nothing she could do about it and removed the bottoms of her pink silk pyjamas, stepped forward and bent over holding on to her ankles. I took aim at her round bottom and the cane hissed down cracking onto her backside. She winced and opened her mouth but made no sound. I repeated the dose lower down, the supple cane sinking into her soft buttocks, but she still remained silent.

I made her wait a few extra seconds for the third, and her body jerked with pain, but she maintained her silence. The fourth had plenty of wrist in it and caught her just below the fold of her buttocks and she let out a loud ‘ow’, jerking almost upright, looking round as if for the help which wasn’t going to come. There were tears in her eyes and she bent over again. I only paused for a moment before I made the cane hiss down again. She gripped her ankles fiercely and her head jerked back as she yelped and began to cry hard. The sixth was a cracker and she jumped up holding her bottom, and dancing across the floor.

I made them carry the wine bottles down to my study and also collected several packets of cigarettes before sending them back to bed. By this time they had stopped sobbing and were actually smiling. The thin cane is like that, the pain has gone in moments.

In the morning I brought my breakfast tray to one of the round tables in the teachers’ dining room, and was joined moments later by a slim dark haired young woman dressed in a blouse and skirt.

She dumped her tray on the table and held out her hand. “Hello I’m Tessa Rowntree, I teach maths. You’re Sheila Bain?”

“Right. English and history.”

Tessa sat down, poured some tea and took a big mouthful. “Aah, that’s better. How was your first night?”

I told her about the party and how I had dealt with it.

She gave me a long look. “If I were you,” she said, “I would go straight to the head. You don’t have authorization to use the cane yet, and you have to have instruction from her. I did the same thing last year and she threatened to sack me. The alternative was to take a caning myself.”

I gave her a long look. “You’re still here.”

“Yes, I let her cane me.”

“Oh!” I considered her answer for a moment. “How many?”

“Twelve, on the bare, very hard.”

I gulped.

“Oh shit.”

“It was worth it to me. Have you ever been caned?”

“Yes, actually. It wouldn’t be a new experience.” I stood up. “Here goes.”

“Good luck. You must show me the marks.”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

On the way to see the headmistress, I was scared. I wanted to keep my job and a caning would be humiliating and twelve strokes would be very painful. I found my bottom tingling at the prospect. I hadn’t had a caning since I left school although my boyfriend had spanked me once. I found myself wanting to have my bare bottom caned again although I dreaded it too.

Her door was open, I knocked and walked in. She was sitting behind her desk and there was only a hard wooden chair for me.

“Sit down Miss Bain. Why are you here?”

I told her my story and she didn’t look pleased.

“Very well. You have disobeyed my instructions and I take this very seriously. The governors would certainly expect me to dismiss you immediately. We are, however, short of staff and on some occasions I have been allowed to keep a teacher if I she has submitted to a severe caning.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You evidently don’t listen.”

I paused for a moment. “How severe is the caning?”

“You are an adult. You will be caned hard, twelve strokes bare. There will be penalty strokes if you don’t behave well.”

I nodded.

She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hello Helen, it’s Gloria. Yes, another one jumping the gun. Yes, she agrees, yes twelve bare. Yes I will.” She put the phone down. “That was the chairman of the board. She said make sure I cane you properly, not that I wouldn’t have.” She stood up and opened the door.

“Jane, go for coffee please.” She locked both doors. “It’s soundproof when the doors are shut.” I had already removed my skirt and knickers, and stood waiting naked below the waist. She looked a bit surprised.

“Miss Bain, you don’t follow Instructions well do you? You do not undress in my study unless I tell you. You will have two extra strokes.”

I looked at the floor, smiling slightly, watching as she selected a long yellow cane and flexed it between her hands. I have not told you to remove any clothing yet. However, since you are ready you may bend over the desk.”

I did as I was told, the wood of the desk cold against my bare belly. There was a moment’s pause then the familiar swish, crack as she brought the cane down hard on my unprotected bottom.

The End


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