A new punishment is introduced at a girls’ school
By Fenton Creek
Ruth and I knocked at the School Secretary’s door. A cheery: “Come in,” came from inside.
As we entered her office, Miss Marston looked up from her desk. “She’s running a bit late, you may need to wait a while.”
There was another girl in the room whom I didn’t recognise; a blonde girl in her school jumper and blouse, black knickers, socks and shoes but no skirt. Two jackets and two pleated skirts were hanging from a chair in the corner.
On the Headmistress’s door, a red light was showing. From inside her study we heard the muffled voice of Mrs Wilson followed a few seconds later by a soft: “Owww!” then a longer yell, then another. A few seconds of silence then the light on the door turned green, the door opened and one of the younger girls walked out. She too had no skirt and was wearing pale blue knickers. After rubbing her bottom with one hand and wiping a tear from her eye, she then picked up a skirt from the chair and began to get dressed.
Miss Marston nodded to the black-knickered girl who knocked quietly on the door and stepped inside.
The waiting was, in some ways, almost as bad as the punishment. After a good telling-off in Mrs Wilson’s office, girls had to step back to Miss Marston’s office, take skirts and blazers off, then wait to be called back in for the cane or strap. Sometimes girls were left standing in their knickers for twenty minutes as other pupils and staff members went in and out.
From inside we once again heard Mrs Wilson’s indistinct voice followed by the muffled yelps, then a gasp, then Mrs Wilson’s voice again.
There was a knock at the main office door and another pupil, Lily Chang, entered the office. It looked like being a busy morning.
From Mrs Wilson’s office came more voices, then suddenly almost a scream. Mrs Wilson’s voice again and the door light turned to green and the girl almost stumbled out, lower lip trembling, her knickers halfway down her thighs. She turned to close the door revealing a glowing red bottom. Seeming to suddenly remember her knickers, she yanked them up and went to the corner chair to get dressed.
Miss Marston nodded us towards the head’s office.
I knocked once at the door, turned the handle and we stepped inside.
Mrs Wilson, the Headmistress, was not, as the expression goes, a happy bunny.
“You were on the 216 bus, in your uniform, playing loud music on your phone. A gentleman politely asked you to turn it off. You refused and it seems that one of you called him a ‘tosser’ and the other used language which I will not repeat here. Anything to say for yourselves?”
“No Miss,” we murmured, eyes downcast.
“The incident was witnessed by a supply teacher who happened to be on the bus as well. I assume that you admit to the incident.”
“Yes Miss, sorry Miss.”
Mrs Wilson continued: “I will not tolerate the school being brought into disrepute. You are both a disgrace to your uniform. Before your punishment you will each spend five minutes in the strip cell. Out you go; one of the prefects will attend to you.”
The strip cell was a new idea introduced by Mrs Wilson. An old toilet, just downstairs from her office, which had been cleared out leaving just a lino floor and a frosted window. If you were lucky you were allowed to undress in the cell itself and hand your clothes to the prefect or teacher who was dealing with your punishment. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be so lucky.
Back in Miss Marston’s office, Lily was waiting. Miss Marston had her finger to the intercom. “Understood Mrs Wilson.” She nodded to Lily and pointed towards the door with its green light. Lily knocked and went in.
Miss Marston turned back to us. “You both need to get undressed and leave your clothes in here.”
Ruth was aghast. “What! Everything?”
“Keep your shoes and socks on, but take off everything else.”
I looked at Ruth who shrugged and started to undo her tie. As we undressed we could hear Lily talking to the Head in the other room. By the time the green light came on we were both naked.
Ruth was trying to cover her pubes and her ample breasts with her hands. I wasn’t so concerned. It was only Mrs Marston who could see us, though I did think she secretly enjoyed having half-dressed, and sometimes totally nude, girls in her office.
Lily came back in. She looked at us casually as if being naked was nothing special. “You two get strip-cell?”
I nodded. “And the cane.”
“I’ve got the strap coming,” she said as she unclipped her skirt. Underneath she had a striped red and white thong.
“She won’t like that,” said Ruth.
“I know,” said Lilly, seemingly completely calm about her imminent punishment. “But at least I won’t have to take them down.” She turned and wiggled her rear at us. “Got bare bottom already!”
Another knock and Sonia Green, the deputy Head Girl entered. She glanced at Ruth and me then asked Miss Marston: “These two for strip cell?”
At Miss Marston’s nod, she pointed at Ruth. “You first!” She then opened the main door and gestured towards the corridor outside. Ruth gave me a little grimace and preceded Sonia through the doorway.
Miss Marston’s intercom buzzed twice. She pointed to Lilly, then the green light over the door. “Better get back in there.”
Lilly knocked and entered. I heard Mrs Wilson’s voice, then four yelps as Lilly received her punishment. When she came back in, she had lost her thong altogether and was nude from socks to her blouse.
“She didn’t like my thong so she confiscated it,” said Lily as she stepped into her skirt and zipped it up. She gathered up her blazer, smiled to Miss Marston, opened the office door and was gone.
Miss Marston raised her eyes with a grin. “She makes me laugh. Four strokes then the rest of the day without any pants and she doesn’t bat an eyelid.”
Now I was on my own, naked, on view to anybody with business in the School Office, and with a sore bottom to look forward to. I watched as the clock over Miss Marston’s desk ticked slowly by.
After a couple of minutes the door opened again. I hoped it was Ruth coming back but instead it was Mrs Fox, my PE teacher, obviously between classes in her netball skirt. She’d no doubt seen me nude in the changing rooms or shower before, but being seen like this in Miss Marston’s office made me very uncomfortable. She looked me up and down and gave a little grimace of disapproval before she left.
After seven minutes had passed, the door opened again and Ruth came back followed by Sonia. “Your turn,” she said, holding the door open. I stepped out on to the little landing outside the office, then down the stairs to the passageway, praying that nobody was about.
As Sonia ushered me out of the door I glanced up and down the corridor and was relieved to see it was empty. Just a few steps to the cell.
Sonia had just opened the door when: “Sonia, wait there just a second,” came the familiar voice of Miss Watling, the Deputy Head.
I turned to see that Miss Watling was accompanied by a girl in an unfamiliar school uniform and a woman in her forties; presumably a prospective pupil being shown around the school. The girl was looking at me with some puzzlement but her mother barely raised an eyebrow, as if teenage girls escorted through school corridors in just their shoes and socks was an everyday occurrence.
Miss Watling continued: “As I have said, the school offers considerable rewards, but for errant pupils there are various punishments which are both painful and humiliating. I don’t know what Jessica here has done, but she will spend a few minutes without her clothes in that little room.” She indicated the Cell. “To think about her misdeed, and then no doubt be returned to the Head Teacher’s office to receive the cane before she is allowed to get dressed again.”
“Are all girls stripped for punishment?” Asked the mother.
“No, it is the exception rather than the rule. For minor offences, especial if it’s the first time, they are caned over their pants. If it’s more serious then they have to take their pants down. For something major then they might have to strip naked, or be caned in front of their classmates or even the whole school.”
The mother nodded her understanding. “Can I see a punishment in progress? So I can judge the severity.”
Miss Watling was thoughtful for a few seconds. “We’ve never been asked that before. I’ll see what I can do. Sonia, carry on!”
“Yes Miss.” Sonia ushered me into the privacy of the Cell. I was hot with embarrassment. I had heard that a blush stops where one’s clothing starts and was certain I was bright red all the way down to my socks.
The Cell was chilly with nowhere to sit down. I wandered up and down the narrow space for what seemed some time until the door opened and Sonia beckoned me out. As we set off for the return journey two younger girls passed the other way, each trying to suppress a smirk and a giggle.
Sonia followed my up the stairs. Back in Miss Marston’s office, Ruth was still in the nude.
“Just knock on the door and go straight in, both of you,” said Miss Marston. Ruth knocked on the door then opened it, and I followed her in.
To my horror Mrs Wilson was not alone. Seated at her desk were the girl and her mother from the corridor.
“Ah, come in girls,” said Mrs Wilson. “Mrs Hanway here has come to look over the school for her daughter and wants to know more about our punishment procedures. I thought that a practical demonstration would be a good idea.”
I felt a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. We were going to be caned in front of a couple of complete strangers including one who was our own age.
“You first Ruth,” said Mrs Wilson, she turned back to her visitors. I normally make them bend over a chair but as you can see they are all occupied. “Ruth! Turn round, bend over, hands on your ankles.”
Ruth obediently turned and bent over, her large breasts dangling. She could not quite reach her ankles and had to bend her knees a little which made her buttocks flare thus denying her what tiny modesty she might have had left.
There was a strap and a cane on the desk. Mrs Wilson selected the cane, tapped it lightly against Ruth’s bottom, then there was a quiet swish as she delivered the first stroke.
Ruth gasped and her breasts swung to and fro. She managed to stay quiet for the second. At the third she let out a low “Ow!”, then longer “Oooww!” for the fourth. At the fifth, a longer “Eoww!” and she stood up, rubbing her bottom. Mrs Wilson tapped the cane lightly on Ruth’s shoulder. “Down please Ruth.” Ruth bent down again. The last stroke caused a quiet “Aaah!” followed by a muffled gasp as she tried not to cry.
Ruth stood up, rubbing her bottom.
“Jessica, your turn”.
Ruth and I swapped positions and I reached down, grasped my ankles and waited. I heard the swish of the cane a fraction before it struck. I really didn’t want to yell or cry in front of the girl and her mother and managed to keep silent for that first stroke and for the second. The third stroke made me cry out and after the fourth everything went blurred as my eyes filled with tears.
At this point, the telephone rang on Mrs Wilson’s desk. “Stand up for a minute Ruth.” I stood up. “Hands by your sides.”
As Mrs Wilson picked up the phone I could sense several pairs of eyes focussed on my redenning bottom. Mrs Wilson spoke into the phone for a few seconds then put the receiver down. “Bend over again, Jessica.”
I reached down and clasped my ankles again. Then “Owww! Oooowww!” as the last two strokes came.
Mrs Wilson looked from Ruth to me and back again.
“I hope you young ladies have learned your lesson. Dismissed!”
We made a hasty exit anxious to be back in our uniforms again.
© Fenton Creek 2014