educationofelizasmith_full

Extract From:

The Education of Eliza Smith

by JANE FAIRWEATHER (Amazon Author Page Click)

(Published by Stormy Night Publications)

The two girls were outside his door, waiting like boys who were in trouble. When last seen they had been in tears, which, Henry thought dryly to himself, happened with boys who had managed to get to the apogee of the school’s elaborate discipline system more often than you might expect. He drummed his fingers on the great oak desk. He would just give them a note and send them to Mrs Wiley. He would just give the bare facts and let her deal with it, which would mean their automatic dismissal; but at least it would not be his decision.

He stood up to do this, then thought this was very like Pontius Pilate sending for water to wash his hands. Really, was there any reason that he should not deal with this himself? But how? Perhaps he should talk to the girls first before deciding what to do. Very undecidedly, he strode to the door and opened it.

The girls sure enough were both in tears. Henry paused long enough to notice that one of these unfortunates had red hair and the other’s was curly and black. Both were wearing the dark dress with protective brown pinafore that the school provided them with out of their far from large wages. Both must be in the region of nineteen or twenty, give or take. He beckoned them in with his thumb as he had beckoned in many boys. Somehow, he never liked to say anything at this point. He went and sat at his desk, and they shambled in front of it.

“Sorry, but you will have to remind me of your names.”

“I am Mary. She’s Liza,” said the redhead in a very uncultured accent.

“I expect you have surnames as well?”

“Yeh, I am Mary Peters, and she’s Lisa Watkins.”

Somehow, Henry did not insist on being addressed as “sir”, which he certainly would have done with a boy.

“Well, Lisa and Mary, you are in a bit of a jam, aren’t you? I don’t like to do it, but I suppose I ought to send you to Mrs Wiley and let her dismiss you.”

“You really hurt them boys, tisn’t fair!” Lisa burst out very unexpectedly. “All we woz doing was giving them a bit of a cuddle!”

Henry, in spite of himself, felt genuinely guilty.

“Well, leastways the boys stay and don’t get thrown out like we do!” Mary exclaimed, equally angrily. “But he wouldn’t have the guts to whip us. He’s a gentleman and they don’t touch girls. We’re the weak sex. Better get off to Mrs fuckin’ Wiley and get it over with. No use staying here. Sod you!”

Henry was not used to being sworn at in his own study, and for a second he stood there in disbelief. The girls had turned on their heels and were about to walk out of his study without so much as a by-your-leave. However, he recovered quite quickly.

“Stop, both of you. We have not finished our conversation. Stop now!”

The girls rather reluctantly turned on their heels and faced the desk again. Henry felt a touch bewildered. He was out of his depth and he knew it. The only thing to do was let the situation develop.

“What more is there to say, you sod?” demanded Lisa abruptly.

“Quite a lot, Miss Watkins. For a start, I do not like being sworn at, and if you want any other way out of the mess you are in than being shown the door by Mrs Wiley, then you had better apologise.”

“Better apologise then,” said Mary with a touch of hope in her voice.

Both the girls apologised for swearing, though Henry noticed Mary sounded more genuinely contrite than Lisa.

“Right, now having got that out of the way, are you saying if I offered you a whipping then you would take it?”

“It’s no more or less than my dad would do,” replied Lisa phlegmatically. “I’ve tasted my dad’s belt on my backside often enough, and Mary’s felt hers more often than I have.”

Henry reflected that this was a different universe. Most of the women of his upper class acquaintance rarely seemed to have had corporal punishment as children, certainly nothing more than a spanking with the hand.

“Well, it would be the cane and not the belt,” Henry found himself saying. “Would you take that?”

“Of course we fuckin’ would. Better than losin’ our jobs, ain’t it,” Lisa retorted abruptly and Mary nodded.

Henry decided not to say anything more about swearing, for Lisa was doing it without even thinking about it.

“How are you used to having it?” he enquired, not at all sure of the answer.

“Seat of our flippin drawers of course, if you are not too much of a gentleman to want to see them.”

Henry shrugged. In ordinary circumstances, he would not have dreamed of looking at a girl’s drawers, but this situation was not normal. He opened the large glass-fronted cupboard in the corner of his room and took out a cane of perhaps two feet, six inches that he frequently used on boys from the fourth and fifth forms, whose behinds he thought were probably not that different in size to Mary and Liza. He swished it around a bit, hoping he was getting the two girls’ attention, but they seemed oddly matter of fact about it.

“Right, haul your skirts up, Miss Watkins, and lean forward over my desk.”

Lisa complied. Henry tried to avert his eyes from the girl’s plump, full buttocks, which were very visible through her ankle length, red striped flannel drawers, but after a second he decided he would have to look to get the strokes in the right place. He got the first lash neatly in the middle, and there was a suppressed squeak of pain and slight involuntary movement of the buttocks. The second he aimed equally precisely at the meeting of buttocks and thighs.

“Sod! That stung!” said Lisa.

Henry neatly placed the third stroke halfway between the first two. There was something approaching a screech, and the buttocks thrust forward and back. The fourth and fifth he landed neatly more or less on the third. Lisa gave a yell each time. Henry paused a second, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Mary was watching the proceedings with unease. He suspected she had expected something much milder.

“Is that it?” asked Lisa through her tears.

“No, one more to come. Stay there.”

As he always did with the sixth stroke, Henry lined it up very carefully to cross as many of the previous strokes as possible and then executed it as hard as he could. Lisa’s whole body jerked, and she screamed several times.

“Right pull your skirts down and make yourself decent,” said Henry, feeling very odd himself. He was getting a very large erection. He noticed the girl’s knickers were very damp round her crotch, which fascinated him, but he hurriedly passed on.

Lisa seemed to be unable to let go of her buttocks, but she dealt with it by retiring into the corner and facing Henry so she could still clutch at the pain but he could not see her drawers with the skirts at the front allowed to fall down.

“Me next?” asked Mary very nervously.

Henry nodded, wondering why she had asked such a redundant question, but then decided it was fright; she must not have expected Lisa’s punishment to be so obviously agonising. Mary pulled her skirts up, looking very frightened, and leaned over the desk. The stripes on her drawers were blue instead of red, and that seemed to be the only significant difference. However, her buttocks were quite different to Lisa’s. They were small and round and without a huge amount of flesh. Henry went over to his cupboard and took out a shorter, but very whippy, cane which he felt was more suited to this very different posterior. This time he administered two sharp swishes to the top of the buttocks, one lower down, one into the meeting of buttocks and thighs, and two into the thighs. Lisa cried and pleaded throughout the punishment and wriggled a great deal. She also squealed after each of the last three strokes. Again, Henry noticed this curious damp patch round the girl’s crotch. Were they wetting themselves? But there did not seem enough liquid for that. It was very odd.

Henry let the girls stand around till they were a little recovered, which took nearly half an hour, for he did not want questions being asked in the school. Then, when they were a little calmer, he gave them some money and suggested that they go down to the village and fetch him some tobacco. It would, he suggested, save them from any awkward questions.

“Thank you, sir. You are a real gentleman,” said Lisa archly.

Henry was a little baffled. Surely the girl had not got a crush on him after he had caned her so severely. Really, he would have to see these two minxes got jobs in the near future somewhere else than this school. They could well be trouble.

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