The Girls of Brandon Academy – Seven on Friday

(Jessica, Margo and Janet, Helen and Leslie, Chelsea and Beth)

This is the fourth of several stand-alone stories about a strict, yet caring headmaster, Eric Davenport, and the girls at his school.

By Miss Em (from the USA)

It was the second Thursday in March 1970, about 8.30 in the evening, I had returned to my office to finish reading through the weekly discipline reports and make a list of the girls that I would need to deal with before the weekend began. Sometimes I could simply give a reminder at our Friday morning assembly, many times, I would call girls out to report to Maria Jordan, my Assistant Headmistress, or to me after assembly, and there were occasionally girls that I felt needed immediate discipline. This particular week had been full of various misbehaviors and rule violations.

First, I phoned Mrs Jordan of the various dress code violations within the lower school, as well as the six freshmen and five sophomore girls that she would need to deal with directly. I told her that a folder with the specific details would be in her office mailbox. Then, I sorted out the junior and senior girls I would handle.

I decided that dress code violations could be addressed in assembly with a stern warning and a severe consequence. Then I had five young ladies that would be dealt with shortly after the morning assembly ended; one for disrespecting a faculty member, two girls for fighting, and the last two girls cut their Thursday morning classes. Yes indeed – Friday was to be a busy day!

I placed my notes in a folder and put the folder in my top desk drawer before locking it. Then I took Headmistress Jordan’s folder to her mailbox. I locked the office before making my way to my private quarters for the evening.

After the Scripture reading and the chaplain’s prayer on Friday morning, Mrs Jordan made general announcements about upcoming events and mid-term exaMs Then I addressed the assembly of almost two hundred girls.

“I was most shocked this week by the number of dress code and make-up violations that have been recorded by the staff and faculty. I spent a great deal of time deciding how to handle these violations. I thought about requiring random uniform checks.”

“Oh no!”

“He wouldn’t!”

“Oh, he can’t.”

“Surely not.”

The moans, groans, and comments of disbelief from many girls filled the sanctuary.

“All right, girls, let’s come back to order, please.” I said firmly. I waited a moment before issuing a more direct statement. “Come back to order. Now, ladies!”

As the auditorium quieted, I toned down my voice and started again. “If the number of dress code violations continues to increase, and that includes make-up, then I can and I will order random uniform inspections. However, I hope it does not come to that. Mrs Jordan will be speaking with a number of younger girls about the dress code and I have about twenty-three upper class members with whom I will be speaking. Starting today dress code violations will be met by three strokes on the hands from the cane for first time offenders and, should there be any repeat offenders, the tawse – 4 licks on the hands, and then six across your thighs. I am going to allow a fifteen-minute break between this assembly and your first class. I strongly suggest that each of you make sure you are in complete and proper uniform, minus the make-up. Faculty, please report obvious violators to Mrs Jordan or to me in writing by noon. I will be speaking with all violators on my list before this day is over.”

I took a moment to let what I said sink in, then I continued. “I want to see the following girls outside my office in fifteen minutes: Margo Tuttle and Janet Linn; Jessica Walker; Helen Archer and Leslie Carlton. I expect to find the five of you silently lined up, facing the wall, with your hands clasped behind you.”

Again, I paused and walked to the right side of the stage. “Ladies, Mrs Jordan and I appreciate those of you who continue to follow directions, abide by our school rules and put forth your best efforts with your classes. We want you to know that your cooperation and hard work will be rewarded. We are working on something special for you at the end of the month. Now as always if you need to speak to Mrs Jordan or me, we will be at the side exits. Juniors and seniors exit to the right, while freshmen and sophomores exit to the left. Remember faculty, allow fifteen minutes before starting first period. Have a good day, everyone. You are dismissed.”

Mrs Jordan and I took our places near the exits as the girls started leaving. To our surprise, none of the girls stopped to talk. We usually have several last minute situations to deal with, so we were pleasantly surprised and after a few last minute words about the dress code, we went our separate ways.

* * *

I took time to go by the faculty and staff’s lounge to give the five girls time to fix their uniforms and make their way to my office. Dean Peterson, one of my senior literature instructors, was present. “Oh, Headmaster, I’m glad you dropped by; you’re going to save me a trip to your office.”

“What can I do for you, Charles?” I inquired, taking a seat at his table.

“Just take a look at these two papers. Then look at this one.”

I looked at the first two papers. Both were titled ‘The Life and Time of William Shakespeare’. I thought coincidence. Then I read the first two paragraphs of each; they were identical. I did not like where this was going. I flipped through both papers quickly finding that in every place I chose to check the two papers were identical. I then took a third paper that Dr. Peterson was holding for my inspection. It was dated February 1963, and had a grade of 94. I did not have to read very far to figure out that this was the same as the others and was the original paper.

“Who wrote the first two papers?” I asked.

“Chelsea Hunter and Beth Schwartz, Sir,” Charles replied. And the third paper is by Leanne Hunter, a 1963 graduate and Chelsea’s sister.”

“Do you see them today, Charles?”

“Yes Sir; they are both in my first period class.”

“Very well, send them to me as soon as you can. May I keep these papers? I’ll get them back to you at the end of the day.”

“Of course, Headmaster. Do you want me to talk to the girls first?”

“No, just tell them I need to see them. I want to hear their story before they have time to collaborate and make up something.”

Charles Peterson smiled. “Eric, I can tell you have a devious plan in mind.”

“I want to give them just enough rope to trip up on, Dean Peterson, so don’t tell them anything.”

“Well, please touch base with me later and let me know what happens.” Charles stated before gathering his books and records and exited.

* * *

I made my way to my office, all the time thinking about how to deal with these girls. I now had to discipline seven eighteen and nineteen year-old girls. It was going to be a long morning. When I arrived, I saw five young women standing silently facing the wall as I had asked. “I’m glad to see all of you followed my directions. I have a few things to tend to and then I’ll speak with each of you. Use this time to contemplate why you are here.”

I entered the office and asked my secretary, Ms Jackson, to make copies of the papers I had received from Dean Peterson. While she copied papers, I went to my inner office to review my notes and straighten a few things at my desk. I retrieved the folder from my desk and checked to make sure my paddles and tawse were easily accessible. There was a knock on the door. “Enter.”

Ms Jackson walked in with the papers and copies in her hand. “Here you go, Headmaster. These are the originals and these are the copies,” she explained, placing the two sets of papers on my desk.

“Thank you, Carol. If you don’t mind, I need you to stay close by in case I need a witness this morning.”

“Certainly, Mr. Davenport. By the way, two other senior girls are waiting in the outer office. I didn’t know if they needed to be standing in the hall with the others.”

“Probably, but I’ll let it go. I’m going to bring all of the girls into my office and give my opening statements. Then I’ll send all but one or two back into your office area with instructions to sit quietly. It will be the last time a few of them sit today.”

“Should I send them in now, Sir?” Carol asked with concern.

“Give me about five more minutes,” I responded. “Then send in all seven.” I cleared the top of my desk except for my folder, a pen, and the punishment book. I decided to place five other items on the desk; the tawse and a small two-foot cane I used on hands, a three-foot cane with a crooked handle, and my small paddle as well as the large school paddle. The girls would soon realize I was in a most serious mood.

There was a gentle knock on my door. I pulled my chair up to the desk, opened my folder of notes and answered gruffly: “Come in.” As the girls started in, I gave additional directions. “Just come on over here and stand in front of my desk. You might need to move down a bit so I can see each of you.”

Chelsea Hunter, Beth Schwartz, Margo Tuttle, Janet Linn, Jessica Walker, Helen Archer, and Leslie Carlton entered quietly and formed a semi-circle in front of my desk. I took a minute to look at each one. Only Jessica looked me in the eye, the others glanced at the implements on my desk and then the floor seemed to fascinate them. All appeared nervous, some more than others.

Chelsea was the first in line; she was very petite about 5 feet 1inch, fair complexion, blonde hair and blue eyes. Next in line was Beth also petite, maybe 5 feet 3 inches, but almost the complete opposite of Chelsea in coloring. Beth had an olive complexion and dark brown hair and eyes. These two eighteen-year-olds had plagiarized; one of the top scholastic sins at my school.

Margo Tuttle and Janet Linn were my cafeteria brawlers. Margo is 5 feet 5 inches, light brown hair in a stylish pageboy cut. Margo was slightly over-weight but very attractive. Janet was a little taller, with the figure of a ballerina and very beautiful Oriental facial features, long black hair in a lose ponytail and almost black almond-shaped eyes that sparkled when she smiled.

Jessica Walker (whom you met in my first story) had beautiful auburn hair that she usually wore in one or two braids. On this particular day, Jessie had one long braid, which she was twirling in front, thus showing me her nervousness. She had a faint smile, as she looked me in the eyes.

Helen Archer and Leslie Carlton were the best of friends, almost inseparable. They usually dressed alike and tried very hard to style their hair the same. At this particular time both girls were wearing their hair long and straight, about four inches below the shoulders, and held in place with a couple of barrettes. Helen had colored her platinum blonde hair to match Leslie light brown hair. Normally coloring one’s hair would not be allowed but Helen chose a natural color and not a distracting pink or orange. Therefore, I decide not to make her hair color a battle. Helen and Leslie were both about 5 feet 5 inches and both had beautifully shaped bodies. These girls could easily have a career in modeling. In front of me, they clasped each other’s hands and stared at the canes and paddles on my desk. Of the seven girls standing in front of me on that day, Leslie was the only one with tears running down her face before I spoke and Helen had a nonchalant attitude.

After letting them stand and contemplate the punishment tools for a minute, I dismissed all but two. “In a moment you will go back to the outer office and you will either stand or sit in silence. I will deal with each of you in turn. I am far from pleased by the behaviors you have shown this week. I am surprised by some and disappointed in all of you. I assure you I will be dealing with each of you in accordance with you behaviors. Do you have any questions before I dismiss you?”

Beth timidly raised her hand. I nodded for her to speak. “Uhh, Sir, I, um, I don’t know why I’m here. What did I do?”

“I’ll talk with you and Miss Hunter first. The rest of you need to wait in the outer office; silently!” I ordered, as five girls filed out of my office.

* * *

When the door closed, I removed the photocopied essays from my folder and placed one in front of each girl. “Miss Hunter, Miss Schwartz, do these reports look familiar?”

Chelsea smiled. “Oh, yes Sir; this is my report for Dean Peterson. I think it’s really good. I hope I get an ‘A’ on it. You remember Beth; we spent two weeks working on these in the library.”

“Wow! Two weeks! Is that correct, Beth? Did it take you two weeks to finish?”

Beth sniffled and wiped her hands across her eyes. “Well, Sir, not quite. At least not for me; I think it only took me a couple of days. Why?”

“Well, Dean Peterson and I were impressed with both of your reports.”

“But he didn’t put a grade on it!?” Chelsea blurted out.

“No,” I started to explain. “This is just a copy. Chelsea, please read the first few sentences of your paper.”

Cheerfully she complied. “Sure, Headmaster.” She began reading:

“One of the most important writers of all times was William Shakespeare. He was born in Stratford-upon-Avon, England, on April 23rd 1564 and died on April 23rd 1616. He was a poet, a playwright, and an actor during the English Renaissance Period. Shakespeare wrote a lot. He wrote 38 plays, two very long narrative poems, and 154 sonnets. Many of his sonnets were written in iambic pentameter. Shakespeare, was such a good writer, he is sometimes called England’s national poet.”

“That’s enough, Miss Hunter,” I said stopping her. “Now Miss Schwartz, would you read me the first part of your paper please?”

Beth started slowly. I think she knew what I suspected.

“One of the most important writers of all times was William Shakespeare.”

She stopped and looked at me.

“Please continue,” I encouraged.

“He was born in Stratford-upon-Avon, England, on April 23rd 1564 and died on April 23rd 1616.” Beth stopped again. “Sir?”

“Finish the first paragraph, please, Miss Schwartz.” I instructed.

“Yes Sir,” she said through her tears. “He was a poet, a playwright, and an actor during the English Renaissance Period. Shakespeare wrote a lot. He wrote 38 plays, two very long narrative poems, and 154 sonnets. Shakespeare is sometimes called England’s national poet.”

“Do you know why I had you read this?” Beth nodded. “Tell me, please.” I continued.

“Because they are both the same, Sir,” she sniffled.

“Ahh! They are the same. Do you agree Miss Hunter?”

Chelsea Hunter looked down at her feet and a very quiet: “Yes, Sir,” escaped her candy red lips.

“So tell me, did you copy Miss Schwartz’s paper?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“No, Sir.”

“Then you must have copied Miss Hunter’s paper? Is that correct, Miss Schwartz?”

“Well, not exactly, Sir.”

Chelsea quickly whispered: “Sshh! Hush! Before you get us in trouble!”

“Oh, you are both already in trouble, Miss Hunter. How much will depend on the rest of your story. So suppose one of you explain.” I could see Chelsea shut down, so I got up and approached Beth. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Headmaster, I completely forgot about the paper until I saw Chelsea working on hers in the library. That was last Wednesday and the paper was due on Friday. I asked her if I could get some ideas off her paper.”

“I see. So you did copy Miss Hunter’s paper.”

“Yes sir, but technically it was…”

“Why don’t you just shut-up!” Chelsea screamed at her friend.

“That’s enough! I know exactly who copied whose paper.”

“Okay, so I let her copy my paper. It’s no big deal.”

“I hate to disagree, young lady. It is a very big deal, as is the fact that you copied your sister’s paper.”

“That I… What?”

“Miss Hunter, here is another paper, please note the name at the top,” I requested, handing her the copy of her sister’s graded paper. “It seems that Leanne also had Dean Peterson for British Literature and chose to write on William Shakespeare also.”

“I, uh, didn’t think that, uhm, anyone would remember Leanne. She graduated five years ago. I’m sorry, Headmaster. What’s the punishment for copying, Sir?”

“Well, let’s see what the handbook states,” I replied, taking a copy of the Student/Parent Handbook from my top drawer.

“It’s at the Headmaster’s discretion up to and including suspension or expulsion.” Beth responded in a monotone voice.

I must have looked questionably at her as she offered an explanation. “I’ve been reading it over and over again since we turned in the papers.” Then Beth broke down in sobs. “Oh, Headmaster, please, please don’t expel us. I really need to graduate. I want to go to nursing school. I forgot about the paper until the last day and Chelsea let me copy her paper. I’ve never done anything like this before. Never!”

“Oh, Mr. Davenport, please! I’m sorry, too, and I’ve always done my work. I just needed a break. It’s been really hard this semester.”

“I’ll be glad to talk to you about why you feel this is a hard semester for you but I will not accept that as a reason for plagiarism. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir, I am sorry. What happens now?”

“That pretty much depends on you. I don’t want to expel either of you. You are good students. However, this is a serious breach of school rules. You will of course receive a zero on the paper. I will see you at 9 am tomorrow for detention where you will research and write a new paper on a new topic. There will be a week long suspension and before you return to class you will each receive eight swats from the paddle or six stokes from the cane.”

Both girls were sobbing and sniffling, I placed a box of tissues in front of them. “I’ll call your parents later and ask them to pick you up after Chapel on Sunday. You have until tomorrow morning to decide on your corporal punishment. We can take care of it during detention tomorrow or when you return from your week of suspension.”

“What if our parents don’t want us paddled?” Beth asked through tears.

“Have you forgotten that all students and parents signed a Discipline Form at registration? However, if you or they don’t want the corporal punishment, that’s fine. You’ll be expelled. You just pack your things and they can take you home.”

“I don’t want to be expelled and have to leave Brandon,” Beth said, continuing to shed tears.

“Neither do I, Sir.”

“That’s good to hear. I didn’t want to lose either of you. You are both assets to the school. But you have made a serious mistake and have to be punished.”

“Yes, Sir.” Both girls spoke in unison.

“All right, let’s get you two back to class,” I said as I stood and escorted them to the door. I opened it and spoke to Carol (my secretary): “Ms Jackson, would you write Beth and Chelsea notes to return to class, please?”

“Yes, Headmaster.” Ms Jackson replied. “Girls if you’ll step over here, please.”

* * *

While Carol took care of Beth and Chelsea, I looked at the five girls still waiting. “Margo, Janet, join me please.” I closed the door behind them. “Stand in front of my desk please. This is not going to take very long.”

The girls stood in front of my desk looked at the canes, the tawse, and the paddle on my desk. I took a seat and started to question them. “Do you know why you are standing here before me, Miss Tuttle, Miss Linn?”

“I think so, Sir.” Miss Tuttle answered.

Janet Linn replied with a quiet: “Yes Sir.”

“Suppose you tell me what you think, Miss Tuttle?”

“Well, Sir, we sort of had, uh, a disagreement at lunch.”

“A disagreement? Is that how you would describe what was going on in the cafeteria at breakfast, Miss Linn?”

“No Sir; not exactly. We were sort of having a food fight?”

“Well, the way I heard it, this was a full blown food fight and would have involved more physical contact between the two of you, if the Head Girls on duty had not pulled you apart.”

Both girls looked miserable and stared at the floor as they quietly responded: “Yes Sir, sorry,” and: “Sorry, Sir.”

“Very well. Here’s what is going to happen. You are to report to me tomorrow morning 9.00 am for Saturday detention. I will have assignments for you and before you leave you tomorrow afternoon you will each receive five licks from the paddle.”

“Sir, couldn’t we take the paddling now?” Questioned Janet, absent-mindedly rubbing her hands down the back of her skirt.

“If you want, but you are going to be doing some physical labor as well as sitting and writing. I would suggest you wait until you finish that work tomorrow because I intend for each of you to learn that fighting will not be tolerated and you will be most uncomfortable when you sit for the next two days.”

Both girls stared wide-eyed at me in disbelief. Then Janet spoke softly. “Headmaster, are you going to tell our parents about this?”

“Don’t you think they should know, Miss Linn?”

“I guess, but my dad will probably spank me again.”

I gave a little shrug. “Good possibility.” Then I turned to Margo. “Miss Tuttle, anything you want to ask or say?”

“It was my fault, Sir. I started the fight. Janet shouldn’t be punished. I thought she was talking about me behind my back. Now I know she wasn’t. Really, we’re good friends.”

“I appreciate your willingness to take responsibility, but both of you had a part in the commotion that caused us to close the cafeteria for fifteen minutes. Therefore, both of you will be here in the morning at nine o’clock sharp and before your detention is over you will be paddled. Is that clear?”

Both replied: “Yes sir.”

“Good, now we can get you back to class.” I ushered Margo and Janet to the outer office and turned them over to Ms Jackson.

* * *

Then I took Jessica back into my office. “It seems like we’ve been here a few times before, Miss Walker.”

“Yes sir,” she said, twisting her long auburn braid to front. “I’m sorry, I was already upset when Dean Nettles said I was grounded for a week. I started mouthing off. I know I was wrong, Sir, and I’ll apologize. Oh, Headmaster Davenport, I, I’m sorry.”

All of a sudden, Jessica burst into tears. It was as if a floodgate opened. I went to her and tried to comfort her. I placed my hands on her shoulders and she collapsed into my arms. I let her cry for a couple of minutes, and then had her to sit down in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. I sat in the other. “Jessica, I can’t believe you’re this upset about your punishment, tell me what’s really troubling you?”

“Didn’t you get a letter from my parents?”

“No, I haven’t heard from them since before Christmas. Why? What’s going on?”

Jessie reached into the right pocket on her navy blue blazer and pulled out a letter. “Here,” she said handing it to me. “You can read it.”

I took the letter and started reading. In a few moments, I understood. In her mind, her parents were abandoning her again. They told Jessie they would not be able to come for Parents’ Weekend and that due to her dad’s business commitments they would not be home for Spring Break (the first week in April). Jessie’s mom went on to say that extra money would be deposited in her school account so that I could find a suitable weeklong activity for her to participate in over the break. I laid the letter on the edge of my desk, and took her hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Jessica, I know you were looking forward to being with your parents during Spring Break. But we’ll come up with something fun for you to do.” I said, hoping to reassure Jessie.

“It doesn’t matter, sir. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. It’s not like this is the first time they’ve left me here for a holiday break. I don’t know why they had me; they don’t love me!” She burst into tears again.

“You know that’s not true. Your parents just happen to be in a high-pressure business that requires them to travel a lot. But they do love you.”

“Then why don’t they ever want to be with me? Do you know I haven’t seen them in over a year?”

All I could do was offer my shoulder for consolation. I let Jessie cry a few more moments before beginning her discipline session. “Jessica, we can talk about this and we will a little later, I promise, but we need to deal with your rudeness to Dean Nettles.”

“Are you going to spank me, like the last time?”

“Don’t you think a spanking is in order?”

“I guess. But I…”

“Let’s not have any excuses. Talking back to Dean Nettles was inappropriate; and you know I won’t allow it to go unpunished.”

“I know Sir. So what is it this time the paddle or the cane?”

“Well, the last time I put you across my knee for a couple of minutes. I still think for childish behavior a child-like punishment is in order. Go get the straight back chair and bring back here.”

Jessica followed my directions although she hesitated on the return. While she brought the chair over, I went to my desk and retrieved my small ping-pong-like paddle. Jessica placed the chair where I had asked and then stared at the floor twirling the end of her braided hair. “Do you want Ms Jackson to witness this?”

“Oh, gosh, no! I mean, no Sir. I trust you.”

“Right, you need to remove you blazer and that skirt and place yourself across my lap.”

“Sir, please? Couldn’t you do it over my skirt?” She asked, taking off the blazer.

“Miss Walker, I think I promised you a bare-bottom spanking. Now I’m letting you keep your panties, so let’s get on with this.”

She pleaded with her expressive green eyes. I simply waited. In a few seconds, she started to lower the pencil straight navy blue skirt. As she placed her body across my knees, I helped her lower herself. “Give me your right hand, please.” I instructed.

“Sir?”

“This paddle is going to hurt and I don’t want to accidentally hit your hand. Now may I have your right hand?” She placed her arm back and I gently but firmly placed it in the middle of her back. “Now, before I start, why are we here?”

“Because I’m stupid!”

I quickly popped her pert little bottom five times. “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!!”

“You are not stupid! Now why are you getting paddled?”

“Because I, I talked back to Dean Nettles.”

“Correct, and that was disrespectful and rude.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Keep that in mind,” I said as I started peppering her panty-clad bottom with rather quick and moderately hard strokes. Jessica bucked and moved trying to avoid my paddle. “Be still or this is going to be a lot longer and harder!” I scolded.

“NO! Please, please. I’ll be still.” She said, trying to wiggle loose.

I stopped for a moment, locked her feet between my legs, and tightened my hold on her hand. “There, that’s better.” I proceeded quickly to place ten pops to each cheek. Then I slowed down a bit. I started giving hard firm swats to each buttock and started asking some questions. “Are you going to talk back to Dean Nettles again?” POP! POP!

“Arrrgh! Oooooh! No Sir, I won’t!”

POP! SWAT! “I’ve heard that before. How do I know you mean it this time?” POP! SWAT!

“Ooooh, oooooo! Please Sir, I promise I won’t talk back any more. Eeyeow~ooooh!”

I lined up the next four swats to hit on the sit spot. SWAT! POP! SWAT! POP!

“No more plee-ease. I’ll be good.”

I placed two more in the center of her bottom. POP! POP! “Ooh! Oh! NO! OH! Please, Sir, no more!”

I was about to stop, but I try never to end a session when requested. Therefore, I reverted to a few quick, moderately hard, but carefully placed swats to each cheek. I could see a very pink bottom showing through her thin white panties. After about ten swats to each side I stopped. Jessica had gone limp, so I released my hold and just placed my hand on her back until she calmed enough to stand.

While I returned the paddle to my desk, Jessica did a little spank dance rubbing her bottom and jumping up and down in a circle.

“Oh! Ouch! Oow! That little paddle really hurts!”

“Not as much as this one,” I said, picking up the large school paddle so she could see it. “And if you come back here for rudeness or disrespect, I’m using this one and you will not want to sit for a week.”

“Yes sir. I’ll be very careful with what I say.”

“Good. Now get dressed please.”

Jessica blushed. “Oh, uh, yes sir,” she responded, looking a little startled.

When she was dressed, I escorted her to the door. “Be thinking about what you might like to do over the Spring Break, and I’ll do some checking also. Then we can talk about it one day early next week. Okay, Jessie?”

“Yes, Sir. But, Headmaster, do you think I could stay with your sister and her husband again? Maybe they would let me, like they did last Christmas. Please?”

“No promises, however I will talk with them and let you know something in a few days.”

Before I knew what had happened, Jessica stood on tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Sir.”

“Ask Ms Jackson to give you a pass to class and tell Helen and Leslie to come in.” I left the door open for the girls but returned to my desk.

* * *

I put the letter from Jessica’s parents in my in basket, intending to talk with them soon. I put the small paddle away, since I knew I wouldn’t be using it on Miss Archer or Miss Carlton. As I sat down, I saw the two senior girls standing at the doorway. “Come on in, ladies. And if you would, Ms Archer, close the door, please.”

The girls approached with hesitation. “Well, ladies, do you know why you’re here today?”

“I guess we’ve done something wrong, Sir.” Helen Archer said, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder.

“Do you have any idea what that might be?” Both girls averted their eyes and shook their heads, ‘no’. “Perhaps you need a reminder. Let’s see, yesterday afternoon about 2 o’clock. Does anything come to mind?”

Suddenly the girls became wide-eyed as they looked at each other. “Sir, we didn’t plan to be gone so long,” Helen offered.

“Where did you go, Miss Carlton?” I questioned Leslie to draw her out of her teary-eyed gaze.

“Uhm, we just went into town, Sir. I’m sorry, Headmaster, I didn’t want to be gone that long. I kept telling Helen we needed to head back. But she, she said we, uh, we wouldn’t get caught.”

“Oh, Leslie, you’re such a baby! What happens now Headmaster? Are you going to whack us with one of those canes?” Helen asked sarcastically.

“I guess you could say I’m going to whack you. But I don’t like the word ‘whack’; I’m going to paddle and cane you as punishment for your foolishness.”

“Foolishness? We were only gone a few hours; we had lunch and came back.”

“Let’s see how many rules were broken yesterday: One, leaving school without permission; two, being gone for over five hours; three, missing a grammar test; four, smoking; and five, fraternizing with some young men in town. That doesn’t even take into account that you were also out of uniform.”

Leslie was sobbing and crying hysterically, while Helen just hung her head. I decided to excuse Helen and try to calm Leslie. “Miss Archer, I need you to go back and wait for a few minutes while Miss Carlton and I talk.”

“Yes, Sir, but Sir?”

“What is it, Miss Archer?”

“Sir, I guess I sort of talked Leslie into going with me. I told her we’d only be gone a couple of hours, but I knew my boyfriend and his friend would meet us at the café for lunch. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Well, Miss Archer, I appreciate your honesty and explanation. And when we talk in a few minutes, I’ll keep it in mind. Now if you would step out please, and close the door behind you.”

“Yes, Sir. Leslie, I’m sorry.”

When Helen left, I moved to the front of my desk and propped on the corner near Leslie. The girl was still crying uncontrollably, so I tried to console her. “Leslie, I need you to calm down and tell me why you’re so upset?” She continued to cry. I took her gently by the arms and turned her so she was facing me. “Take a couple of deep breaths.” Leslie tried, but hiccupped through her tears. “Come on, try to breathe normally.”

“I, uh, I’m, uh sorry, Sir. I, uh, don’t mean to, uh, to cry.”

I placed a finger under her chin and lifted her tear and mascara stained face. “Can you tell me why all the tears?”

“I’m scared, Sir. I’ve never been spanked.”

“Your parents have never spanked you?”

“No, Sir, and I’m really afraid.”

“Leslie, what are you afraid of?” I asked, rubbing her arms trying to help her relax.

“Pain, being hurt. The girls all say that the paddle and cane hurt a lot and that you really know how to make the pain last for days.”

“Well, Leslie, in a way what you heard is right. I do know how to use the cane and paddle, and because this is punishment you will hurt for a while when this is over.”

“Oh, Sir, I’m sorry but you can’t, I don’t think I can take the pain, Sir.”

“I need you to listen to me carefully, Leslie. I am going to paddle you shortly and tonight I will cane you. Now you can cooperate and it will be over in a few minutes. Or you can fight it and I will call in Mrs Jordan or my secretary in to hold you down and you will still get paddled and you’ll earn a few extra licks.”

“But Sir!”

“There are no buts, Miss Carlton. You can have a witness if you want, but in the next two minutes I expect those trousers down and you across my lap.” I decided Leslie was too frightened to do more than just take the paddling. At that moment, I was just trying to get her to submit to it, so I retrieved the straight-backed chair from the side wall. “Now, Leslie, I will call Ms Jackson in if you want a witness.”

“What does she do? I don’t want to be held down.”

“No, Ms Jackson would only be present to observe if you feel uncomfortable being spanked by me. She will only hold you if you don’t cooperate or fight the punishment or me.” I paused; I could see her trying to gain some courage and composure. “So what’s it going to be? Do you want Ms Jackson to come in?”

Leslie brushed tears away. “N… n… no, Sir,” she replied shaking her head.

“All right then,” I said, picking up the large paddle and sitting in the chair. “I need your trousers down and then place yourself across my lap.”

“Yes Sir.” Leslie turned her back to me as she fiddled with the button and zipper on her navy trousers. She lowered her slacks a little, then approached me.

“No, ma’am. I need them down to your knees.”

Obeying quickly, Leslie then almost dove into my lap. I decided to anchor her legs between mine. “Grab hold of the chair legs and don’t reach back. I don’t want to hit your hands with this paddle. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.” She squeaked.

“Tell me why you’re being punished.”

“Because we left school… sniff… and went into town… sniffsniff… and we were with some guys… sniff… and we were smoking.”

“Keep that in mind, young lady. I don’t want to find you sneaking out again.” With that said I pulled the paddle back and popped it solidly on her well-shaped bottom clad in navy blue panties. She yelled and bucked, but I held her firmly in place and applied a second stoke in the same place. Again she screamed and jerked her body in an attempt to get away.

“Be still or this is going to take a lot longer,” I scolded before quickly popping her twice.

“Aaaaahhg. Please, no more Sir,” she cried. “I can’t take any more.”

Because she was over my lap, I could not use a full force swat and because I had to apply the paddle in the same place with each swat, I was concerned with bruising her especially since Leslie had never been spanked before. Since I was going to have to cane her later, I did not want to prolong this and I needed to make sure she would accept further discipline from me. I slid her forward towards the floor so I could place the last two smacks lower, on her sit spots, which I did quickly.

When I released her, Leslie jumped around, up and down. She did a spank dance, like a four year old. You would have thought I had given the girl 20 or 30 swats. I let her continue for a few minutes, while I made a few notes.

Then I went to Leslie, who was still rubbing her bottom and jumping up and down. I forcibly had to stop her by putting my hands on her shoulders. “All right, that’s enough. Calm down and be still.”

“Oh, Sir, I hurt so much.”

“It was a punishment, Miss Carlton. The pain is supposed to be a deterrent from future misbehavior. However, I did not apply nearly the level of pain you probably deserved. And we are not finished, young lady.” I said sternly before turning her loose. “Now fix your clothes and come sit down.”

She looked a little frightened, but followed my directions with a weak: “Yes Sir.”

It was obvious Leslie had not been spanked before; she plopped down in the leather chair and popped back up immediately, rubbing her bottom. Then she carefully lowered herself onto the chair and tried to sit on her hands to cushion her bottom.

“I was very lenient with you, Miss Carlton, you only received six swats. your friend out there is going to get ten. Then tonight I expect both of you back here after study time, let’s say eight-thirty. You will be given the third part of your punishment. And detention tomorrow, you will complete the punishment.”

“Third, Sir? Don’t you mean the second?”

“No ma’am, the third. I’m about to administer two licks to your hand for wearing make-up.”

“Headmaster, please I won’t do it again. I promise.”

I picked up the small cane, about two feet long, very flexible, and walked in front of my desk. I need you to hold out your non-writing hand.”

“Sir, please?”

“This is for the make-up you are wearing; I gave you plenty of time to remove it after assembly.”

She held up her trembling, left hand. I positioned it over her thigh. “Place your right hand under it for support.” She did as I asked. “You need to hold your hand right here; if you don’t the cane will strike your leg.”

“Yes Sir.” I brought the cane up to my shoulder. Then with a flick of my arm and wrist, the cane fell. Leslie had withdrawn her hand and the cane struck her thigh.

“Yee-ouch!” She screamed and rubbed her thigh furiously.

“You still have two strokes coming, young lady. Left hand in position again and close your eyes.” I directed with a no-nonsense tone.

Again, Leslie followed my directions. I lifted the cane and as soon as her eyes closed, I let it fall precisely across the middle of her hand.

Leslie screamed and shook her hand wildly. “Please! No more! My hand feels like it was cut in half.”

“One more, Miss Carlton. Come on, left hand out and close your eyes.”

“Sir, I can’t, please.”

I placed the cane across her legs. She gave me another pleading look. “Either extend your left hand or prepare for five more strokes on your legs.”

“Five! Why so many?”

“Because you are wearing trousers. Now my patience is well worn, Miss Carlton. Hand or legs?”

Leslie held her left hand up and out. She glanced at me before closing her eyes. I pulled the cane up and let it drop quickly on her hand and luckily, it landed across her palm next to the first stroke that had now formed a red welt.

Leslie stuck her hand under her right arm and cried. Then pulled it out and shook it vigorously.

Having spent much longer with her than expected, I wanted to get her back to class. However, she was a mess. Her hair was tasseled, wet with tears and mucous from her crying, her faced was streaked with black mascara and blue eye shadow, and of course, her clothes were disheveled.

I went to the door and asked Ms Jackson to come in. Glancing over at Helen, I could see fear written all over her face. This was not good; not the way I intended.

With Carol inside, I closed the door. “Ms Jackson, if I could implore you to assist Miss Carlton, so she can return to class as soon as possible.”

“Certainly, Headmaster. I’ll see that she gets cleaned up and then I’ll escort her to class.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.” Then I turned to Miss Carlton. “Leslie, I want you to go with Ms Jackson. But I expect to see you back here at eight-thirty, tonight, understand?”

Leslie nodded and tried to speak through her tears. “Yes, sir, and I, uh, I’m sorry I, I acted like su-such a b-baby. I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me.”

I took the girl in my arms, gave her a hug, and rubbed her back. “I’m not angry with you, Leslie; I am disappointed at the behaviors in which you chose to participate, but we will talk some more about this later. Miss Archer has been waiting a long time.”

At that point, I nodded to Carol, who came and took hold of Leslie, picked up her blazer, and ushered her out of my office while whispering some reassuring words to the senior girl.

I followed and asked Miss Archer to come in. “Stand in front of my desk, please.”

“Yes Sir, but Headmaster, is Leslie all right? She looked…”

“Miss Carlton will be fine. Ms Jackson is with her.” I interrupted. “We need to talk about you and your punishment.”

“Whatever you decide, Sir; I know I was wrong. The whole thing was my idea, skipping classes, meeting the boys, smoking, and even ditching our uniforms yesterday. I don’t understand how we got caught. I thought I planned it so well. Who saw us? Or reported us?”

“I had several staff members reported seeing you sneak back on campus. And don’t forget your names appeared on the absentee list for second, third, and fourth periods.”

“Oh, I kinda forgot about that,” she replied, looking again at the canes and paddle on my desk, before looking at me. “So what’s my punishment?” Helen asked with a bit less sassiness in her voice.

“Your punishments will be spread out. A paddling for leaving school, a caning on your hand for the make-up you are wearing, a caning on your bottom for smoking and being with the boys, and you will join my detention session tomorrow.”

“That’s four punishments, Sir.”

“Yes ma’am and you’re getting off light. I haven’t included any punishment for being out of uniform or encouraging another student to break the rules.”

“I am so sorry, Sir, and I’m not trying to get out of anything. I just wasn’t expecting you to be so severe. The last time I cut class you gave me detention and a spanking.”

“Well, this time is different. You obviously didn’t learn the lesson or you were deliberately disobedient, having no regard for me and the rules of this school. Maybe it’s a little of both. But I promise you, young lady, by the end of tomorrow’s detention you will have a lot more respect for me, the rules, your friend, and yourself.”

For the first time that day, I saw true concern on her face. Helen noticeably tightened her body, shifted back and forth, and she bit her lower lip.

I decided to get her over the desk quickly. “Well, we need to get started. In a minute, I’m going to ask you to lower your trousers and lean over my desk. You will get ten swats for leaving school yesterday. Then I’ll give you a little time to recover before I cane your hand for wearing the make-up. This being the third time this year, you will get three strokes.”

“Yes Sir,” she answered softly. “Do I have to lower my, my panties, too?” She asked as she started to unbutton her trousers.

“No, but you may want me to bring in one of the ladies as a witness?”

“Oh, no, no Sir. Besides, you’ve spanked me at least twelve times, maybe more over the years. My dad said he was going to tell you to take a belt to my bare-bottom.”

“He did, and I told him that I rarely administer a bare-bottom spanking. But if you cut classes again or if you are caught in make-up again I will have Mrs Jordan give you one. Clear?”

Helen nodded vigorously as the seriousness of her actions started to register. “Very clear, Sir. No make-up and no more skipping class, I promise.”

“I hope you can keep that promise.”

A tear escaped Helen’s right eye as she spoke: “I will, Sir.”

“Well, I suppose it’s time for us to do this. Lower those trousers and lean over my desk, here.” I stated, pointing to the section I had cleared earlier. “I need you to hold on to the other side. If you get up or try to interfere; one, you will get extra swats; and two, your hands could get injured and neither of us want that. Understand?”

“Yes Sir, thank you, Sir.” She lowered her slacks and leaned across my desk.

I went to her left side, after picking up the large paddle. Helen had been here several times before for cutting classes, so I was not planning to be lenient, however she had taken responsibility for talking Leslie into breaking the rules. I adjusted the tail of her blouse so it was out of my way and then I began. The first swat was firm and landed across the very center of her bottom. Helen didn’t move or make a sound. I swung a second time landing the paddle in the center again.

A low “Arrgh!” escaped her and she wiggled her legs. I placed a third swat slightly lower. Another moan, another wiggle. Swat number four was directed to the area below where her hips join the thighs and I made it a little harder.

Helen jerked her head up. “Ooooooouch!” She screamed, came up off the desk slightly and stomped her feet.

“Be still,” I cautioned, placing my hand on the middle of her back and gently pushed her back down. I really did not want to give extra licks. I quickly gave her three more swats as close to the center of her round, animated panty clad bottom. She was in one long screeching scream.

I gave her a moment to recover, because the knuckles of her hands were ghostly white as she gripped the back edge of my desk. When I saw her relax a bit, I brought the paddle back for a full force swat to her sit spot. She jerked her head, her body slid forward on the desk and she screamed with all her might. “EEEOOOOW!”

I decided eight strokes were enough, especially considering she would be caned later in the evening. After a few moments, I coaxed her up. “All right, Miss Archer, get up and fix your clothes.”

“Yes Sir,” she replied pushing herself up and back from the desk. She was moving very slowly and as she eased herself off the edge of my desk, Helen winced in pain. “I’m sorry Sir, but my bottom really stings.”

“I’m sure it does; I meant for it to.” Her mouth dropped open, but no words escaped. “Now get your pants pulled up and sit down so we can finish and get you back to class.”

Helen eased her navy blue slacks up and over her well-developed legs and hips. After fastening them, she eased herself down into one of the leather armchairs. “What’s next, Sir?”

“What is the school rule about make-up?” I queried, picking up the small cane on my desk, and making my way back to the front of my desk, where I propped, waiting for Helen to answer.

“We’re not supposed to wear make-up, Sir, but I wanted to look nice for my boy-friend.”

“Hmmm. Then I guess you felt the make-up was worth the cost of a caning?”

“Sir?”

“You are about to receive a caning on your hand, so wearing the make-up must be pretty important since I gave you fifteen minutes this morning to correct any dress code violations.”

“Yes, er, No, er, I mean I thought it was, but not now. Sir, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“I hope not. Each time you break a rule I have to make the consequence or punishment more severe,” I told her in a very matter-of-fact way. I stood and flexed the two foot cane. “I need you to hold out your non-writing hand and brace it underneath with the other. You will receive three stokes since this is the third time we’ve had this conversation. However, I need you to understand that if there is ever a repeat of make-up, before graduation, you will receive the tawse across your thighs. Do you understand me, young lady?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good. Then let’s get finished. Hand out.” Slowly Helen raised her left hand and put her right hand under it. I adjusted the position slightly, then brought my cane up and let it fall with a ‘snap’ across the center of her hand.

“Oh,God!” She screamed and shook her hand rapidly in the air.

“Let’s be very careful, Miss Archer. You don’t want extra for your language.”

Still shaking her hand, Helen spoke through her tears. “I’m sorry, Sir; I didn’t mean anything by it, except that it really hurt. Please, Sir, I’ll be more careful.”

“Put your hand back out, left on top of the right. And let’s leave them there, this time, so we can finish.” I instructed.

She followed my directions, but as soon as the cane whipped her hand, Helen instinctively shook it and placed it in her armpit as if that would make the sting go away.

I cleared my throat loudly, and Helen started pleading: “Oh please, Sir, I, I won’t use make-up again. Please, I promise.”

I waited. Momentarily Helen offered up her left hand for one more painful stroke, which brought a few tears to her eyes. Again, she shook the hand vigorously, before stuffing it under her arm.

I placed the cane on my desk and started walking to the door. Helen wiped her tears on the sleeve of her blouse and followed me. “When does detention start, Sir?” She asked warily.

“I expect you to be sitting out front at 9:00 am sharp, but remember you and Leslie are to come here this evening at 8:30, after study time.”

“Yes Sir, I’ll be here. Do I need a pass to go back to class?”

I opened the office to see if Ms Jackson had returned. “Good, you’re back; please give Miss Archer a pass to class. Then come in, I need to dictate a couple of letters.”

“Yes, Headmaster Davenport, I’ll be right there,” Carol replied.

The End of Part 4

This series about The Girls from The Brandon Academy will continue with ‘An Evening Visit to the Headmaster’s Office’ and ‘Davenport’s Saturday Detention’.e


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